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Fuck. I should have stuck to the plan.
Chapter Four
Samara
"I'mkillingyourhusband,"I inform Troian, pacing back and forth in front of the window overlooking Rice University. This late, the University looks more like a park than an institute of higher learning. Aside from a few handfuls of students, the various courtyards are all but empty.
"You can't," Troian says. "I'm not raising his boys alone. They're too much like him."
"He could have warned me that Tate is in a freaking motorcycle gang!"
She laughs quietly. "It's not a gang, Samara."
I grunt, not so sure I agree with her. Whether they call it a club or a gang or something else, it checks the same boxes. Maybe they aren't selling drugs or prostituting women, I don't know. I feel like an idiot for what I said this morning though. He's been nothing but kind to me, and I insulted him and his friends! He probably thinks I'm a bitch. I'm not entirely convinced he's wrong. I'm not entirely convinced he's right either. As soon as he told me the truth, my heart stopped beating.
For the first time since I met him this morning, I felt genuine fear. I know he saw it. Ihatethat he saw it. I hate that it hurt his feelings, and I know it did. But the emotion was instinctive, there before I could call it back. I'm not afraid of him, not exactly. But I'd be lying if I said I weren't afraid.
He says his club is different. I want to believe him. I just…. Did Siobhan want to believe the same thing when Danny introduced her to his club? Did she think they were just a bunch of guys who enjoyed riding together? I don't know. I'm not my sister, and Tate isn't Danny, but trust has never come easy for me, especially when it comes to men.
I never knew my real dad, and my mom's boyfriends tended to be alcoholics and addicts with anger problems. She never let them hit me or Siobhan, but they roughed her up plenty. After growing up around them, dating has never high on my list of priorities.
Making up perfect men for the story apps I write is easy. Putting my faith in the real version is terrifying. I want to believe Tate when he says his club is nothing like the men who killed my sister, but what happens if I'm wrong? What happens to Scout if I'm wrong?
"Tate is a good guy," Troian says, sobering. "You know I wouldn't have left you there alone if I didn't trust him implicitly to take care of you and Scout."
"I know," I whisper, laying my forehead against the cool glass and exhaling a sigh. It immediately fogs over a patch of glass beneath my nose. Guilt trickles in, adding to the cacophony battling for dominion in my mind. She's right. "I feel like a jerk. He's been great, and I basically called him a criminal today."
"He'll forgive you. Besides, a little humility will do him good," she says with a chuckle. "He's cocky, isn't he?"
"He's bossy."
"That too." She laughs. "Give him a chance, Samara. He's an incredible surgeon, and a good man. He'll be good for you and Scout."
I frown, not sure I like the way she said that. "You mean for Scout."
"Sure, that," she says. "How is she today?"
"Worse," I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes. Every day, she's worse than the day before. I hate leaving because I'm so afraid something will happen while I'm gone. Her heart is struggling. Her lungs are struggling.She'sstruggling. They keep telling me that she's a fighter, but she shouldn't have to fight at all. No baby should.
"I'm so sorry, Samara."
"Me too."
"Do you have a surgery date yet?"
"Tate's working on it." He left her room to start making calls not long after Daisy, her nurse, arrived. He still hadn't returned by the time visiting hours ended. I decided to walk back to the penthouse to clear my head. Hopefully he'll have a date for me soon. "I'm not sure how much time he needs."
"If anyone can get it worked out for her, he can. She's in good hands now." She pauses. "That's what they call him, you know. Hands."
"Really?"
"Mmhmm."
An image of him running his hands across my body floats through my mind, his emerald eyes locked on my face. A shiver rolls through me. I bite my lip, fighting a groan.
Stop thinking about his hands, Samara. Stop thinking about him.
Except…I can't. All day, he's been stuck in my head. It's starting to stress me out. The walk here didn't help. Nothing has. Ever since this morning, I've been obsessing about him, and I don't know why. He's not the first gorgeous man I've met. There are plenty of those in California. But he's the first one that I've ever wanted to know.
