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I looked at the exit where Smoke was patiently waiting for me.
“Yeah, nice,” I agreed.
“I’m dying to know… Are you dating any of them? All of them?”
I snorted out a laugh. “Let me guess. You read romance novels?”
She grinned. “Is it that obvious?”
“Kinda. I’m not dating any of them.”
“You sure? The one at the door looks like he wants to be dating you.”
Her words shot a quiver through me—a thrill I quickly squashed. “It’s complicated.”
She sighed. “Isn’t it always?”
With a wave goodbye, I went to meet Smoke. He held the door open for me.
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely appreciating the gesture.
“It was Knox, wasn’t it? Who was blowing up your phone.”
“Yes,” I said quietly as we headed to his motorcycle. The other guys were already straddling their bikes.
“See you back at the clubhouse,” Smoke said to them as he handed me a helmet. “I’m taking Logan car shopping.”
They revved their engines and then drove out of the parking lot.
“You don’t have anything else you need to do today?” I asked as I placed the helmet on my head.
“Several things,” he said. “Including getting you a new phone.”
“A new phone? I don’t need a new phone.”
“You need a new number.”
“I can’t—if I change my number, I’ll have to tell my parents why…”
“Logan,” he stepped closer and grasped my hips. “I saw your face when you read those texts. You went pale and you looked terrified.”
“I did?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah, you did. We all saw. Don’t let Knox fuck with you. Get a new phone. A new number. You’ll feel better. Trust me.”
Chapter 21
“Aside from an affordable reliable car, do you know what brand?” Smoke asked as we walked across the used car lot.
“Nope.”
When I’d started dating Knox, he’d made it clear he didn’t like my car. It was old, and he didn’t think it was reliable. Six months into our relationship, he’d bought me a car. He’d picked out the make, model, and color.
At the time I thought it had been a thoughtful gesture. Looking back now, I saw it for what it truly was. A manipulation tactic. He’d been slowly giving me things, nice things, so that I’d grow accustomed to the luxury and wouldn’t want to leave when I inevitably found out he was a cheater.
And every time I accepted something he’d chosen for me, I’d helped outfit my gilded prison by accepting his gifts.
“Logan?”
