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My thoughts jumped to how he made me feel, even after everything. Whenever he was around, I still felt like that lovesick teenager, pining over a man who didn’t want me. Even though he did seem to want me now. What the hell was that about?
For a moment I thought about calling Jessen, waking her up and unloading all this on her. It wouldn’t be the first time I called her in the middle of the night when I had problems sleeping because something weighed on me. She was always there, with her calm demeanor that could somehow stretch through the phone. She pressed for more information in a way that made me want to tell her everything. She was the team’s emotional support human. I palmed my phone, thinking about where to even start.
It all went back to what Reaper had said all those years ago—I was a burden to Redemption. Just like I had been to my birth parents. Too much work. Too needy. Had to be careful not to upset the president’s girl.
My leaving must have been a weight off their shoulders. No more pretending. That was what cut to the core. A wound that had scabbed over time but was still tender. Easy to tear back open if given the chance. After the day I had, that wound was oozing, reminding me what true rejection felt like.
When I found out I never had to go back to my parents, all I felt was relief. With Redemption there was only heartbreak.
The loud roar of an engine cut through the silence. To anyone else, it would have been indecipherable. But I knew that motorcycle. It had once driven up and down my block multiple times a day, and I’d heard every crank of the engine as it was being built.
What did he want? Couldn’t he leave me to my spiraling thoughts? No, because he was a self-centered asshole. He didn’t think about anyone but himself.
Jumping up, I untangled myself from the blanket and stomped to my front door. It crashed against the wall and bounced off after I yanked it open, and I crossed my arms over my chest, leaned my hip on the doorframe, and waited. Reaper climbed off his bike and stalked toward me, his steps eating up the ground between us.
The words to send him on his way sat on my tongue, ready to be unleashed, but they died when he came into the light and I saw the flakes of dried blood stuck on his beard. He had a cut on his lip and light bruising under his eye that would turn purple by morning.
With Reaper bloodied and bruised on my porch, a tenderness I thought long dead roared back to life. Called for me to take away his pain. To make his eyes twinkle with laughter. Something. Anything.
Stop. Who cares if he got into a fight? Figure out why he’s here, and get rid of him.
Right. Focus. Get him talking, then get him gone. I had a first aid kit inside. He could talk while I cleaned him up.
No.No taking care of him. That wasn’t my job. It never had been, no matter what teenage delusions I’d had. He no doubt had someone waiting at home to kiss away his boo-boos. The thought of Reaper leaving and sliding into bed with another woman snapped my mind back to focus.
Reaper was a large man, and he seemed to deflate in front of me the longer we stared at each other without speaking.
“Is he alive?”
“They,” he corrected in a rough voice. “They are still alive.”
“They?” I parroted back.
“Some lessons can only be beaten in. And sometimes a man has to hold people accountable and fix his mistakes by fighting for the only thing he has to his name.” Reaper’s words would be cryptic to anyone who hadn’t grown up in the world we did.
“Like honor?” My heart raced as I waited for his answer.
“Exactly.” Reaper took one step closer to me, eyes never wavering from my face.
They. I focused on the word. He’d called out more than one brother tonight, brothers he thought had broken their code of honor. It was not only his right but part of his role as enforcer. Though enforcer challenges were rare, I knew how they worked, and they only happened when a brother leapfrogged so far over the line that the only other option was exile.
In all the time I’d lived with my aunt and uncle, it had only happened once.
Questions on top of questions filled my mind, each vying for the top spot. Finally, I just said, “Why?”
The unexpected devastation on his face twisted my stomach in knots. He took another step closer, putting us barely a foot apart, and pulled his hands out of his pockets, placing them on either side of the doorframe.
His heavy sigh ruffled the hairs at the top of my head. “How could you ask me that? Accepting my challenge was the least they could do to regain their standing in the club. You deserved better than that from us, Peyton.” Reaper’s eyes locked on my face like he was trying to see into my mind. “You were right earlier, what you said when you were screaming at us. We were dicks when you first came home, and we never got any better. The longer it went on, the harder it was to figure out how to bring you back. It was all true, and we should have realized how wrong we were. Instead, every single one of us, were complete fuckers.” He closed the last bit of distance between us. “I don’t have to ask if you’re okay, because I know the answer. But I would do anything to make sure you never feel this way again.”
“Enforcer challenges seem a bit excessive if you ask me.” My mind couldn’t seem to comprehend the fact that he’d fought his brothers overme. But my traitorous heart leaped, completely ignoring the damage he had done to it and how long it had taken for me to stitch it back together.
Reaper let out a soft laugh. “That, Einstein, is why you’re mine. You don’t bat an eye at the violence inside of me. How I was born to solve problems with my fists. You don’t make me explain myself, or my choices, because youunderstandin a way no one else could.
“I know I said really stupid shit to you. I was pissed off and couldn’t figure out another way to tell you that it wasn’t our time yet.” He huffed a laugh. “I guess I could have just said it wasn’t our time yet. But I knew I wanted you then, even if I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t the man you deserved or needed back then, but I am now.” He licked the cut on his lip, and I balled my fist at the desire to trace it with my own tongue.
He cupped my face in his hand and pulled me closer, then brought his lips down, pressing them hard against my forehead.
“I’m sorry for all of it, Einstein. I promise I’ll fix it.” He angled my face up, and we stared into each other’s eyes.
