CHAPTER 6
Fuck, this week has been a long one. My body does not want to keep the day going, but I’m not missing out on a DSMC party. I need to go and spend some time with my best friend. She’s been acting cagey and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.
Wrenley isn’t the only one who has been a little off for the last few days. Even though Apostle has tried to put up a front, I know there is something going on. It’s in the way his eyes will lose their focus here and there. He’s always there, present, when we’ve been at his place together, but it’s like something is missing.
I probably shouldn’t be as bothered by it as I am. I’m the one who has been saying there’s nothing between us while mentally counting down the days until I have a clean bill of health in order to resume my normal life. And move back into my place.
Still, I hate that he’s been distracted for the last few days.
Something happened after he brought me lunch at school a few days ago. I have no idea what it is though and that’s just pissing me off. I’ve never been good at letting something go.
It’s one of the things that makes me a great friend, especially to someone like Wrenley who had to hide her pain and hurt over the way her parents emotionally, and to an extent physically, abandoned her after the death of her sister. If I hadn’t been persistent as hell in not allowing my best friend, someone I consider my soul sister, to fade away I don’t know where she would be right now.
She probably wouldn’t be as blissfully in love as she is. Even though it’s kind of gross.
Fine, not really, but I resent the little sliver of jealousy I feel when Prodigal dotes on her.
You could have the same thing if you would stop trying to push Apostle away.
Thank you, little voice in my head that won’t let me keep my heart in one piece. Not gonna happen.
As I zip up my second boot and stand, I force my shoulders back and place my fists on my hips. It’s a power pose which, apparently, can change your whole mindset. I don’t think it’s helping much, but who am I to argue with the random internet article I read once upon a time?
When I hear a knock on my door, I don’t get the chance to drop my hands before Apostle opens the door and strides into the room. He takes in my stance and a small smirk lifts one side of his far too fucking sexy mouth. Damn this man.
I shriek, “What if I was naked, Apostle?”
The man growls and strides toward me like he’s a hungry predator on the edge of going feral. The need and desperation in his eyes have my thighs squeezing together. Don’t judge me—it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any and the night that I shared with the man in front of me was the best sex of my whole life.
“Sioux,” there’s a warning in his voice, “the next time you call me by my road name, I’m going to put you over my knee and spank your ass until it’s red and you’re begging me to stop or fuck you for the rest of the night.” I gasp and go to take a step back, but his arm shoots out and wraps around my waist. His eyes are intense and fully focused on me as he hauls me against his chest. “And if you were naked when I walked in then we’d be skipping the party.”
I suck in a sharp breath and my mind completely blanks. I’m not sure if it’s because of the promise in his voice or his threat to spank me. I should tell him I’m not interested, but we both know it would be a lie.
After a few days of him being distracted by something, it feels disgustingly good to have all his focus. Internally I preen at the attention while fighting to keep my face neutral. From the way his eyes sparkle, it’s clear he can see right through me.
Fucking hell. This man.
“I’m not even sure what to say to that,” I murmur softly, the words escaping before I can really think about them.
It’s not my fault that my brain has turned into mush. It’s all his fault. With his big body pressed against mine. His delicious leather with a hint of citrus scent wraps around me and makes me feel like I’m floating in the clouds.
I can admit, if only to myself, that I love the way his hands feel on my body. After the night we spent together I knew I was ruined for all other men. That doesn’t mean I was willing to give the man my heart on a silver platter. Hell no, been there done that and it was nearly impossible not to lose myself in the pain of it all.
And that was with men who don’t mean nearly as much to me as Crosby does. Losing him would destroy me.
It’s better to keep my distance and not risk it.
Right?
“Firefly,” he croons softly, pulling me from my thoughts and spiraling emotions. This man has the ability to throw me off balance completely and he’s not even a little bit ashamed about it considering the way his eyes are alight with mirth. “There you are,” he praises when I focus back on him. My cheeks flushing is something I have zero control over even though I wish I did. “You don’t have to say anything, I know your heart and I know we’re meant to be together.”
That doesn’t just shake me out of the lust and euphoria, it catapults me back into the land of the living with my sanity fully intact. I step backwards out of his hold and ignore the way my heart sinks when he lets me go. His dark eyes study me but give nothing away.
“You can’t say things like that to me,” I lick my lips and then force his name past them because tempting fate is not on my agenda for the night, “Crosby.”
“Why not?” His eyes narrow in a way that would have most people hearing warning bells going off in their head, but I know this giant man is no threat to me. He’s proven it over the last few months. Even though I can feel his frustration, even a hint of annoyance, his voice is calm, “I’m only speaking the truth. You’re mine, Sioux,” there’s a finality in his words that has my heart melting even as I stand tall.
I smooth my hands down my torso and over the tops of my thighs, wishing the floor would swallow me right about now. It’s becoming more difficult to resist this man every day. There is a huge part of me wondering why I’m fighting so hard against it. But then the rational, self-preservation focused part of me kicks back in with reminders.
“I’m not yours,” my voice is soft in the hopes it will soften the blow of my words.
Even though Crosby has been at my side to help me while recovering, he’s never pushed me to talk about the night we spent together or the chemistry we share. I’ve been grateful for the reprieve, even though it’s done nothing to lessen the tension that arcs between us.
His large hand cups my cheek as his eyes go soft and fill with understanding. There’s something so strong and sure about the man in front of me. I could fall.
I desperately want to fall.
“We both know that’s not true,” Crosby’s voice is a coaxing lull and as much as I want to force my feet to move even farther away from him, I don’t move. “You’ve been mine since the moment I saw you, Firefly. You started to push me away out of fear and then I gave you the space you needed to recover,” his words are little truths that hit against the flimsy wall I’ve built around my heart.
“But now I’m basically recovered,” I whisper the words, more hope than I want to recognize filling each one.
He nods slowly, a smile lighting up his face. I know I’m the only one to get this side of him—when he relaxes, when he’s softer, when he’s showing me that I’m his priority.
Apostle is full of strength and stoic loyalty; it’s sexy as hell and he makes my body light up in a way it never has before. But I also get Crosby, the man encased in a leather cut and who has memories of growing up in a small town without the mantle of being an enforcer for the DSMC.
Yeah, we’ve shared more than I’m willing to recognize during my months of recovery. How the hell did he manage that? I thought my walls were layers of concrete blocks. Now, I’m finding it was made out of wet cardboard the entire time.
Damn him.
“But now you’re basically recovered,” he repeats my words with an edge of finality. “I wasn’t going to put your recovery in jeopardy. You’re too important.” He swallows hard and his eyes become haunted. “Seeing you on the ground,” he shakes his head, his voice shaky, “I’ve never been more scared in my life.”
Without even thinking about it, his strong jaw is in my hands and I’m staring into his eyes, so he can see the truth in my words, “I’m okay now.”
The way he closes his eyes as pain contorts his face has tears welling up in my eyes. I can feel the terror he felt in that moment like it’s a physical thing in the room with us.
But the thing is, I don’t want to live in that moment. I can’t. I need to move forward.
And he does too.
When his eyes open, they’re glassy with unshed tears and my heart skips a damn beat. “You’re more than okay,” he murmurs. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”
Fuck.
“Many times.” Because he has. He’s been a better cheerleader than I deserve, especially with the way I tried to put distance between us after the night we spent together. “You’ve kept me going, Crosby. Thank you.”
I wish it felt like the goodbye I know it should be, but my words are simply about gratitude. And not nearly enough. I’m not sure anything could really be enough to express how much I appreciate what this man has done for me.
He leans forward and kisses my forehead as he speaks against my skin, “Always.” When he pulls back, something changes in his expression as his eyes sweep down my body and then back up again. “As much as I wish I could talk you into staying home tonight because you look fucking delectable, I know you need some time with your girl.”
I glance down at my outfit, knowing he’s seen how my jeans are molded to my body and how the halter top that I’m wearing hugs every one of my curves while showing off the girls fucking perfectly. Then there are the boots which bring me a few inches closer to Crosby’s height. I’m still shorter than him, but, unfortunately, the way he towers over me only adds to the man’s appeal.
As if he needs any help in that department.
I narrow my eyes as if my best friend is standing in front of me and hiss, “She’s been hiding something and I’m going to find out what it is.”
Crosby chuckles and offers me his elbow like a fucking gentleman. Something settles—a rightness—when I hook my arm through his and allow him to lead me out of my room and then the house. I’m surprised as hell when he leads me over to his bike instead of his truck.
Anytime he’s needed to take me somewhere he’s never even looked longingly at his bike while taking me right to his truck. Now we’re getting on the back of his bike?
We never really had the chance to do this before I was shot. We were too busy flirting before having an explosive night together. Then I was putting distance between us.
I know what it means to be on the back of his bike.
When I look up at him, my eyes wide and full of questions, he simply flashes me a devastating grin and kisses my forehead. He grabs a helmet, one that is bright blue with glitter, out of his saddle bag. It doesn’t match his aesthetic at all, and I know, without a doubt, that he got it just for me. Why does that make a lump form in my throat?
Instead of focusing on the way he’s caring for me, even in such a seemingly small way, I watch him. I don’t even try to hide the way I watch his muscular body flexes as he throws his leg over his bike.
With his free hand outstretched, offering so much more to me than steadying me for when I climb on behind him, I know I won’t be able to deny what is between us for much longer. Even if I want to. Even if the prospect of it frightens the hell out of me.
“It’s where you belong,” he prompts me gently when I take a moment too long to put my hand in his.
But then I do it and that feeling of rightness grows from an ember to an inferno inside of my chest.
Crosby may be my ruin, even more than I knew Apostle would be. It’s strange how two men can exist inside of one. But I see it now clear as day.
Sliding onto the seat behind Crosby’s large body feels like home. As I wrap my arms around his muscular torso, barely stopping myself from caressing his cut abs, my life seems to click into place.
Fuck. My head wants to fight against the feeling, but my heart is another matter altogether.
Why can’t I give into this and enjoy it, even if it only for one night?
One night that turns into a lifetime.
I shush the inner voice in my head that is firmly on the side of my heart instead of the logical side of my brain as I snuggle against Crosby’s back. His leather cut is soft against my skin and the edges of his DSMC patch remind me just who this man is.
He’s a force of nature—strong and full of contained violence. But he’s shown me another side of himself all these months.
He’s a man capable of so much care that recalling all the times he’s stepped up, even when I didn’t want him to, makes my eyes water. I’ve spent so much time pushing him away.
And for what?
There’s no denying that he’s still right here. Standing tall and strong in the face of my defiance. It doesn’t even piss him off. In fact, I think he finds it amusing. Which should really piss me off, but it doesn’t.
It makes him all that more attractive.
I slip the helmet that is clearly mine on when he hands it back to me and then we’re roaring down the road. I grip him tighter and allow my body to relax, taking every turn and allowing him to lead me in way that has my heart soaring in my chest.
Have I ever felt this free?
Have I ever felt so right?
I can’t recall a time if I’m being honest. Is this living, truly living? I’m almost positive I could get used to this.
The wind rushes past us and not even the sounds of the city encroach on our little bubble. The light in the sky is fading quickly and the oranges in the sky remind me that life is worth living.
This.
This is what I fought for as I tried to come to terms with the pain rushing through my body after being shot. It was such a strange experience—to notice all the little things in a rush while time seemed to slow and then stand still.
I know I’m missing part of those memories, which I’m grateful for, but the wild look of turmoil on Crosby’s face when he saw me bleeding out on the ground is clear as day. It’s a memory that sometimes wakes me up in the middle of the night.
Not the pain of the bullet spearing into my abdomen. Not the screaming and tears from my best friend.
No. It’s his face that wakes me up in a cold sweat. Still, even months later, it haunts me.
I allow the reason why to take purchase inside of my soul. I take it out and examine it for what it is while we fly down the streets of New Orleans which is being touched by the rebirth of spring. I take solace in the way time has kept going and the world has continued to turn.
Because there was a moment in my life when I honestly did not think I would get to experience it. I remember the feeling of regret and sorrow because I had spent so much time denying what was right in front of me.
Then when I woke up in that hospital room, I kept going down that path instead of changing my stars.
It’s not too late.
No. No, it’s not too late.
Crosby’s large hand finds my knee, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and gives it a squeeze. I’ve never told him, but the truth is that I live for the connection between us.
It was regretting the distance between us that kept me fighting for my life. Because I wanted to make it right. But then fear crept in again and I remembered why I had not allowed myself to give into him.
It’s not too late.
I snuggle deeper into his back, and I feel him take a deep breath as his relief washes over me. It was only moments ago he told me this is where I belong. He’s shown me the same thing time and time again with his actions—that being with him is where I’m meant to be.
But I’ve denied it in the hopes of protecting myself. In reality, was I only hurting myself? And him?
His deep timbre echoes in my mind as he offers me so much more than a seat on the back of his back, “It’s where you belong.”
Maybe he’s right.