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“What about you and me?” I asked.
He lifted a brow, the teardrop tat on his left cheek stretching. “What about us?”
“Are we good now?”
He chuckled. His smile grew darker, and his icy eyes glowed. “You took bullets for me, wild thing. We’re a little more than good. I got your back. Always.”
And then he left the kitchen, leaving me there, thirsty and shocked.
Zayne Wilder, a.k.a. Joker, and I were cool. I never thought I would see the day.
THAT NIGHT, Koah was late getting home. I didn’t leave the room to ask Crow or Joker if they knew where he was, and I didn’t bother to text him. Instead, I sat in the bedroom, letting every worst-case scenario make me sick to my stomach.
I hated the idea of Koah out there on his bike. I had just lost my sister, and Trooper hadn’t made it either—both had perished because bikes were dangerous. Motorcycle accidents happened all the time, and while I had pulled away from Koah some, I still didn’t want anything to happen to him.
When he entered the bedroom, I was so worried that I found myself in his arms and holding him to me. His arms wrapped around me, and he held me tight, sighing in the air above me before breathing me.
“I miss this,” he whispered.
And I knew what he meant. We slept close to each other every night, but as much as I wanted to be my usual loving self, I couldn’t do it. I was stuck inside myself while living outside myself, watching. It was weird and something I couldn’t explain, but I was a mess.
“Where were you?” His shirt muffled my words. “I was worried.”
“I’m sorry, babe. I had to work a little late. I didn’t notice the clock. Otherwise, I would have texted to let you know I would be late.”
I stilled and pulled back to look him in the eye. “Work?”
Since when did Koah have a job other than racing and drug-slinging? I had assumed that was what he was out doing every day when he left me … dealing. Then again, it was strange that he would do that without Crow or Joker, who remained by my side when Koah was gone.
“Yeah. Skull and Everly opened the shop. I’m working there with him now.”
I had been so out of it that I hadn’t even noticed. The scent of motor oil wafted around him, and when I pulled back to look at him, it was to see he was wearing a uniform instead of his usual jeans and T-shirts. I blinked and pulled him close to me again. I felt terrible. In my moment of grief and loss, I had all but been ignoring Koah and his needs. I didn’t even realize he was working.
“I’m sorry,” I said when I realized what an awful girlfriend I had been. “I’m trying to be myself again, but it’s hard.”
He pulled away from me and captured my cheeks in his hands. “You’re perfect. You’re doing what you need to do to get through this. I’m here, and when you finally come out the other side of the dark tunnel you’re living in right now, I’ll be there waiting for you.”
His words rushed through me, and I couldn’t help myself. I pressed up on my tiptoes and kissed him. He kissed me back, a soft feathering of his lips over mine, but never pushed for more. When we broke apart, he tugged at his oil-covered shirt and backed away.
“Let me shower and grab something to eat, and I’ll be back. Have you eaten? Do you need anything?”
My heart tightened. There he was again, thinking of me.
“I’m good. Just hurry back to me.”
I was slowly rising above the tide. I was still drowning, but the idea of Koah holding me through the night sounded warm. I was tired of feeling cold inside and out and wanted his warmth.
THE REST OF THE WEEK was much the same. Except I came out of the room most days and even found myself on the couch watching a movie with Joker. I still wasn’t talking much, spending too much time in my head, but when I found myself sitting on the front porch breathing fresh air instead of drowning, I knew I was slowly coming back to life.
I watched cars drive through the neighborhood, some going much too fast, and I enjoyed being outside until it was time for Koah to come home. He had promised to text if he was going to be late, and since I hadn’t gotten a text from him, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I heard his motorcycle approaching.
So when a car I didn’t recognize pulled into the driveway, and I saw Koah in the driver’s seat, I was a little confused. He got out, not noticing me on the front porch, locked the car door, and started toward the front door. He paused on the cracked walkway when he saw me.
“What is that?” I asked, pointing at the gray four-door that looked more like a grandmother’s car than Koah’s.
He was a tattooed hot biker who owned the streets and killed people who hurt those he loved. He was dark and sexy, tall and muscled. The car didn’t match him at all. It was all kinds of wrong.
“It’s a car,” he answered, his brows lifting like he wasn’t sure I was okay.
