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“Yeah.” A sad laugh falls from my lips. “I was so pissed when I found out he’d joined. He was such a good kid. He had such a bright future ahead of him, and then he just threw it all away by joining that bunch of thugs.”
“Why did he join?” Toby asks, pushing his plate back, resting one elbow on the counter and placing his other hand on my thigh in support. His warmth seeps through me and gives me the push I need to continue.
“Honestly, I have no idea. He was never big into bikes when he was a kid. But suddenly at fifteen, he declared he wanted lessons for his sixteenth and it went on from there. Each year he got a bigger engine, and then before we knew it, he was wearing a freaking cut and getting covered in ink. It was so unlike him. At one point, he wanted to go to uni to do engineering, and then he spent his days elbow-deep in bike oil. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” I quickly add. “It just never really seemed like that was his calling in life.”
“I guess people are good at hiding themselves,” Toby mutters.
“I thought I knew him, you know. And then right before my eyes, he morphed into this man I barely recognised.”
“That must have been tough.”
“Not as tough as losing him,” I mutter. “He was shot,” I say, remembering that his death was how we got on to this conversation. “He got into some kind of trouble with the club and they took his life.”
“Shit, babe. That’s tough.”
“Yeah, it’s not been a great few weeks.”
I pick at some more of his incredible breakfast, but after that conversation, I battle to force much more of it down.
“It’s okay,” he says, noticing my struggle.
“I’m sorry. It’s incredible. I just—”
“I shouldn’t have asked you all of that while we were eating,” he says, dragging my stool closer to him, spinning me around and encasing my legs with his. “I’m sorry life’s been so shitty for you. I wish I could help make it better,” he says sincerely.
“You are, Toby. You have no idea how much you’re helping. You appeared in my life when I needed you the most. You’re my guardian angel.”
He smiles at me, his eyes bouncing between mine and my lips.
“I’m no angel, baby.”
I bite down on my bottom lip as thoughts of all the things we’ve done together flicker through my mind like a movie.
“You might be right there,” I mutter, my focus dropping to the inches of bare skin before me. His bruises still look more than a little bit painful, but they have lessened since yesterday. The cuts on his face also look better despite the fact that I never actually managed to fix him up.
“I need to go shower,” I say before either of us gets carried away and he ends up eating more than his breakfast in his best friend’s parents’ kitchen.
My cheeks blaze at the thought.
“I think I like where your mind just went, Demon.”
My eyes find his and I try to dig up some kind of argument, but it falls flat.
“How about I clean up and then come and find you? You’re pretty dirty; you might need help.”
A lust-filled laugh rumbles up in me. “Oh yeah, totally filthy.”
“Go and get naked and wet. I won’t be long.”
I walk away to the sound of him putting everything into the dishwasher. There’s a part of me that wants to smile, because being here with him is the most incredible, weightless feeling. But then I’m hit with reality, my grief, his pain, and I feel like I’m drowning all over again.
I step onto the first floor with a heavy sigh, my eyes set on the room he claimed for us at the end of the hall, but the one sitting ajar beside me catches my eye as I move past.
I have no idea what it is, but I find myself moving closer.
Pressing my hand to the door, I push it open and step inside.
Realisation hits me almost immediately as to who this room belongs to. It’s got ‘teenage boy’ written all over it.
