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Chapter Twelve
“What a waste of good makeup.” She dragged the tissue under her eyes, cleaning up her smudged mascara and liner. She’d made a point of wearing extra makeup tonight. It was a fruitless effort. Everything about tonight had been useless. She snagged a few more tissues and blew her nose. She cringed at her reflection in the mirror, with her red eyes and blazing red nose. She was an ugly aftermath crier. It would take at least another twenty minutes to get her blotchy face back to normal. Who cared, anyway? She tossed the tissues into the trash and then washed her hands before unlocking the latch and opening the door. The hallway was dark, but she would have to have been blind to miss Trax leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the curve of his muscles bulging from the hem of his shirt.
His stare was thoughtful, any remnants of humor gone. The corner of his mouth curled, and he drew in a breath. “I’ll take you home or to the club, your choice.”
Good, this was good. “The club so I can pick up my car.” She glanced down at the floor and mumbled, “Thanks.”
“I wanna show you something.” He stopped abruptly and lowered his voice. “If it’s all right?”
This was a different Trax. She had the feeling if she’d said she wanted to leave immediately, he would have taken her. The ball was in her court. For everything that had happened tonight, she still held a little faith in him. Or maybe it was wishful thinking.
“Okay.”
He pushed off the wall and reached out, taking her hand in his and intertwining their fingers. The hand holding again. With him, it seemed to be her downfall. It was such a simple sign of affection, yet her belly swirled every time their fingers intertwined. She glanced down and couldn’t stop her smile creeping up her lip. He led her down the short hall and through a doorway. The room was small and cluttered with cardboard boxes on one wall and a small old desk in the corner. The walls were a pea-green color and completely bare. He let go of her hand and leaned across the desk, grabbing a frame. He stared at it before handing it to her.
She recognized the bar in the club and the two men standing in front of it. They were dressed with their leather vests and smiling at the camera. A younger Trax was the man on the right. The man on the left?
Cheyenne smiled and peeked up. “You and Mick?”
He nodded. “Day I patched in.”
She smiled, tracing her finger over the glass. “You look happy.”
“I was.” He stepped toward the desk again, moving a box from the top down to the floor. “Meg took the picture and framed it. She’s got the same one at their place, except it’s hanging on the wall.” He fumbled with another box, setting it on the floor before sitting on the desk, staring back at her. “I knew I wanted in from the first time I hung out with them. Me and Mick, we just got each other. He knew me better than my own family. Took me in, all the mentoring shit, vouched for me. Prospected for thirteen months until that day.” He pointed to her holding the frame. “Finally, a brother. I belonged to something.”
She clamped her lips closed, not knowing what to say. The last thing she’d expected from Trax was for him to open up to her.
“Stood up as my best man when I got hitched.”
She glanced up. He’d mentioned he had been married, but him talking about it surprised her. He smirked and lifted his chin. “He offered me five hundred bucks not to marry her.” Trax laughed, shaking his head. “Saw something I didn’t, and fuck, was he right. Stood at the altar, watching her walk down the aisle with Mick in my ear, saying, ‘There’s still time, brother.’” Trax folded his arms over his chest and gave a sad smile. “Good advice I shoulda taken.”
“You must have loved her, though, right?”
He shrugged. “I was twenty-two, getting regular pussy. So, yeah, where I was back then, I loved her. But she wasn’t loyal. Found out she was fucking around a month into my stint in prison. She stopped visiting.” He scanned her face. “When a weekly is all ya got, it becomes the only thing to look forward to. It keeps ya going. She took that from me.”
She averted her gaze from his stare and glanced down at the picture again. Mick and Trax. It seemed so strange that a man she only knew for a mere ten minutes, she felt a connection to. Maybe it was the way Trax spoke of him. She glanced up again at Trax.
“It must have been hard.”
He raised his brows and nodded.
“I got word from those close to me she had guys in and out of our place. Got any idea how that fucks with a man’s head? She sleeping with guys in my fucking bed while I was locked up.” He shrugged. “Made her wait, though. Wasn’t divorcing her while I was on the inside.”
“Why?” Wouldn’t he want to be rid of her?
“Wanted to see her face when I handed her the papers. Did it at my homecoming party.” He winked. “Meg’s got a picture of that too.” He laughed, and Cheyenne snickered. It was a picture she’d love to see.
She leaned a step forward, handing him the frame. “Bet that one isn’t hanging on her wall.”
Trax grabbed the frame and smiled. He had such an amazing smile, though she rarely saw it. It softened his face, making him seem less dangerous. There was a part of her that wished she could just forget everything that had happened between them up until that point and have a do-over. Well, not everything.
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
His smile faded, and he scanned the room. Cheyenne wasn’t sure if he was looking for something or just avoiding the question.
“I don’t know.” His eyes softened as he pointed toward the door. “I guess you pouring out your soul back there reminded me of what a bastard I am, and for once, it bothered me.” His head bowed. “Swore I’d never fall again.” He looked up with a tense face. “Made a vow to myself, no woman would ever get in here.” He rested his hand over his heart and smiled. “Then you showed up.”
She sucked in a breath and gulped.
