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Despite the man’s gruff responses and anger issues, I desire him as well, and that is more from just that one earth-shattering kiss. I thought about that kiss, wanting it long before he ever brushed his lips against mine. Knowing he’ll never do it again makes me want it even more.
His eyes dart to my lips one last time, heating my skin, before he drops my hand and walks away.
I stand in the kitchen until the sound of his motorcycle fades into the distance before making Aria a bottle and preparing some rice cereal and smashed bananas for her.
The sun is barely peeking above the horizon, and I’ll have probably another hour or so before she wakes, so I wander the house, noticing just how empty it feels once again now that he’s left for work.
I stop in front of his room. He’s left the door open either by mistake or maybe because he’s grown used to leaving it open. Where I close my door at night, he leaves his standing open. The house is small enough that even with our doors closed, we wouldn’t miss Aria crying in the night.
I stare into the empty room, having not been in here since the first day he returned. The bed is messy, the sheets and comforter tangled on the side he obviously sleeps on. The decorative pillows line the other side as if having them there as a mock secondary person in the bed makes things easier for him. I’d consider he pretends Lana being in here with him if it wasn’t for the picture on his bedside table facing the wall as if seeing her is hard but putting it away completely is impossible.
Emotions clog my throat as I consider his loss and what it means for not only him but also for Aria.
I complained to Boomer about my mom’s hovering, but I have no idea what I’d do if I had to grow up without her. The little girl is lucky she doesn’t have a dad like mine, and although he has to leave occasionally for work, that work means something. He helps people while he’s away. He gets women back to the people that love them. He isn’t using work as a way to escape his family and at-home obligations the way my own father has my entire life.
I inch my way into the room, feeling guilty for invading his space, but the draw is just too much to ignore.
I drop to the bed just as the first sob rattles from my chest.
I can’t imagine his loss and the pain that comes along with it. I’d never have the strength to wake up every day and put on a brave face for those around me the way he has since his wife’s death.
I sit on the side of the bed and cry.
I cry for the little girl who’ll never know her mother the way she should.
I cry for the man who is hurting more than any one person should.
I cry for myself because Lana got him first.
I cry because he’ll never be mine.
Chapter 18
Harley
“You’ll tell me if you’re struggling,” Kincaid says after pulling me to the side. It’s a demand, not a question.
We’re getting ready to enter a compound in Argentina, and although I feel focused, his doubt is making me doubt myself.
I’ve noticed several of the guys watching me, and Slick seems ready to talk to me at any given second, although she’s kept her distance.
“I’m good,” I vow, looking him directly in the eyes as I say the words.
This is only my second mission since joining Cerberus, but I know that Kincaid is here because of me. He, along with all the other original members aside from Kid, have entered into a form of semi-retirement, where they work but stay around the clubhouse to do it. Kincaid is on this mission to make sure I don’t lose my shit.
He claps me on the back and gives a quick nod before walking over to Hound to go over last-minute details.
I reach for my phone, the familiarity of the action still odd since it’s only my second time out with the guys. I promised I’d give timeline details, but then it feels like my chest caves in. Those promises were made to Lana who once voiced her concern that she couldn’t go for days, or even hours, worrying whether I was safe or not.
My fingers hover over the face of my phone as I wonder if Ali would appreciate the same courtesy.
I asked her to stay at the house rather than keeping Aria at the clubhouse because I was afraid she wouldn’t return to my house once I got back. I may struggle with guilt and daily regrets, but I know I’ll hate it if she’s not there.
I pocket the phone, but immediately pull it back out and fire off the text.
