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It takes a second for the words to register in my brain, and I slowly turn to look at him. “Something forme?” I clarify as he nods once, short and sharp, and I scoff. “Is it a gravestone with my name on it or something because I’m going to be honest, I really don’t want one.”
Maggie chuckles at me like it’s a joke, but I’m dead fucking serious. This man clearly doesn’t like me, so him giving me anything is a major red flag. My life is definitely on the line.
He rolls his eyes at my dramatics, a move I’m sure he’s done a hundred times before in my presence behind his sunglasses, but this time, I get to see the swirl for myself. “If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t give you anything for people to remember you by,” he grunts, turning toward the door and waving for me to follow after him. “Come.”
Fucking asshole. Is this a joke?
Maggie nods at me to follow after him. There’s a knowing glint in her eyes, a pull I can’t describe that has me taking my coffee mug and trailing after him. I step out of the kitchen to find him holding the door to the bar open, waiting for me.
I step through the space, taking longer than necessary as I make sure not to brush up against him. The memory of the night he was passed out replays in my mind and the words Gray said to me. It’s for his trauma and my fucking sanity.
The second I’m through, he’s heading for the main doors, long strides making it hard for me to keep up with my mug in my hands. “Asshole,” I mumble, but he stops at the door, turning to face me with his brow quirked.
“What was that?”
My stomach clenches, hating that this motherfucker is calling me out. I might be lost in my own thoughts and feelings right now, but if he’s going to kill me, I’m going to go down saying exactly what’s on my mind. I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of him. “I said you’re an—”
The rest of my sentence is lodged in my throat as my eyes skim past him and land on the piece of metal standing a few yards behind him. I shove my mug into his chest, not caring whether he catches it or not as I sprint, barefoot into the yard.
I can’t breathe as I fall to my knees, my face pressing into the perfectly stitched leather that makes the seat on my bike.
My. Fucking. Motorcycle.
Mine.
How?
I run my fingers over the front wheel, still unable to truly comprehend what is right in front of me. Swallowing a handful of times, I manage to loosen the lump in my throat enough to croak out a few words. “Please tell me this isn’t some kind of joke.”
“I’m funny, but not that funny,” Axel grumbles back, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Although, if I had known how dramatic you were going to be, I wouldn’t have gone for it.”
I look at him. Really look at him. He’s staring at me intently, his jaw tight, hands stuffed in his pockets, and his forehead marred with frown lines. Yet the look in his eyes is… softer?
That can’t be possible.
“Why?”
It takes him a moment to answer. “You were right last night. Trauma doesn’t give a shit how or when it affects you. I still think you’re shady as shit, but I thought you should at least have your bike here with you.”
My heart soars, my cheek pressing into the leather as I take a deep breath. It’s shitty as hell, but the truth remains the same; trauma knows trauma.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how—”
“You’re right, you can’t. Your dramatics are getting on my nerves.”
There it is. The barrier back in place as he slips his glasses from his pocket and covers his eyes. Abrupt, short, and snarky, I shouldn’t expect anything else from this man.
I rise from my crouched position and instinctively run my fingers over the handlebars. The rumble of an engine catches my attention as a pick-up truck comes to a stop a few feet away.
“Finally,” Axel mutters, moving toward it just as the rear door opens and Gray steps out. Moments later, the doors to the front open too and Ryker climbs out with Emmett coming around the back of the truck.
I’m confused as fuck by the small gash over the bridge of his nose and the black eye that marks his face. Those sure as shit weren’t there when he left last night, so what the fuck happened?
Before I can ask anything, Axel slaps his hand and they man-hug, murmuring among themselves as Gray moves to the other side of my bike.
“Who does this hot thing belong to?”
My mouth spreads into a wide smile as I beam. “Me.”
