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Or at least try to be.
Pushing the thoughts away, I shoved the article into my bag that was sitting on my desk and headed toward the front of the office. When I had left Sans Verta, I never thought that I would miss the place, but there I was...
Missing it like hell.
So much that my mind conjured up the sound of a motorcycle as I pushed through the lobby doors. It made my stomach flip, but it wasn’t the first time I had thought up such a thing. My eyes stayed down at my feet, the sound only intensifying.
It’s just another motorcycle.
With that, I forced myself to look up, my heart nearly stopping as I recognized the bike parked at the curb—and the biker turning off the engine.
“Viper?”
Bright, piercing green eyes met mine. “Hey...”
Part of me was angry at the sight of his tall, broad, shoulders and just how fucking handsome he looked there, the late day sun shading a portion of his square jaw and dark stubble. However, the other part of me was trying not to break down right then and there—and then run away.
So, I found the middle ground.
“Why the hell haven’t you answered my calls?”
Okay, maybe nottotallymiddle ground.
“Listen, Hannah. I read the article...” his voice trailed off as I stormed right up to him, my arms folded across my chest. “That night... You were drugged. I had no idea—”
“No idea of what? That I loved you? That I wanted to stay? You didn’t give me a chance to say any of that stuff the night that you just shipped me off in Vinny’s car, the night that I almost fuckingdied.”
He raised his eyebrows at me but didn’t argue. “I get it.”
“And then Itriedto call you.”
“Yeah, but I thought that it was just best...” He had guilt written all over his face, and as much as it tugged on my heartstrings, I just wasn’t going to let him have it.
“That’s not even fair to say, Viper.” I was so angry tears were forming in my eyes. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me or what I want. I’m a grown ass woman, and Iwantedto stay with you. I thought you felt the same way that I did—and I guess that I was stupid for that. If you loved me, you would’ve answered my phone calls.”
“I was trying to protect you from—”
“From what? The biker life? Oh comeon, Viper,” I argued, shaking my head at him. “I might not look like whatever you think a woman in the club should, but I amstrong,and I don’t take shit—not even from you.” I threw my hands up and spun on my heel, heading away from him.
“Jesus, Hannah, wait,” he grabbed my arm, stopping me and turning me around. “Icareaboutyou, andthatis why I sent you away. I was trying to protect you fromme,and maybe,” he paused, looking away from me for a moment. “Maybe I was trying to protect myself from you a little, too. I don’t know, but you’reallI think about. Yeah, I dodged your calls—but I couldn’t even think about talking to you and not telling you to come back.”
A lump formed in my throat as I saw his face contorted with emotion, his jaw muscles tensing up beneath the stubble. Hemeantwhat he was saying, and for some reason, I guess I kind of understood where he was coming from.
“So why are you here today?” my voice came out quiet and soft.
“Because I need to know,” he dug into his vest pocket, “if this is true.” He held out a hard copy of the article—well, story—I had written. “I get that this shit is all fiction, I read that, but notallof the stuff in here was fiction. I need to know if, you know, if thelovepart of the article is true... Or if you just added it for the readers or whatever.” His voice was nervous and strained, and it dawned on me that it was taking more courage for him to ask me than it had to nearly die for me.
“I meant it.” My words sounded flat, but it was only because I was on the verge of tears as I stood there, his fingers setting off a fire in my arm. It was a reminder of what wehadbeen—of what we could’ve been.
He nodded but hesitated, running his free hand through his hair. “Maybe we should talk more about it.”
“About what?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You read the story, and it was basically me puttingallmy feelings out there. I painted our story out to be some sort of amazing romance—and it was—but just like in the story, you were the cowboy that rode away into the sunset, and I was left to pick up the pieces.” I pulled my arm away, realizing he wasn’t even admitting thathelovedme.
I still look like an idiot.
I turned away from him just in time for a rogue tear to slip down my cheek, my hand flying up to bat it away. Taking a step toward my car parked on the far side of the lot, I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders.
“I love you, Hannah.” The words were meek and barely audible over the noise of the traffic driving past the office.
