Hollywood (Steel Demons MC #7)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Winter

E nvy, deep green and tightly coiled, worked its way through my body as I watched all the women who were happy and in love with their men. Peyton wrapped her arms around Rocky, who held their daughter Rosie in his beefy arms. Ellie and Diesel snuggled at a table in the corner, their son Leo was playing with Chopper, the huge bulldog who lived at the clubhouse, and their twin girls, Lucy and Lila, were sitting between them, while Hawk and Laura hugged near the bar. They were all happy. All in love. All free and open to express their love for one another.

And then there was me and Hollywood. We weren’t a couple even if our lives were very couple-y right now. We lived together. We shared a bed, most meals, and spent most of every single day together. Everything on the surface screamed couple , yet I wasn’t free to wrap my arms around him or kiss him in public.

His brothers knew what was going on, or at least they suspected. The women knew outright. But still we paraded around as if there was nothing between us.

What if it was nothing? What if it only meant something to me?

“We need to talk,” I told Hollywood, interrupting whatever it was he was saying to me.

He let out a frustrated sigh and nodded. “Yeah, okay. But I’m explaining to you how things will work with Winston for the foreseeable future. Slate set him up with a series of rotating car rentals in different names, along with corresponding reservations at hotels in and around Steel City. He’ll be constantly on the move, but it will keep him safe until we handle the Jade Devils MC once and for all.”

It sounded good but risky. “As long as he’s safe I don’t need the details. There’s something else I want to talk about, Hollywood.”

His blond brows dipped low. “What’s more important than the plan to keep you and Winston safe?”

“Us.” It seemed silly when he talked about matters of life and death, but this was important to me, and I hoped it was at least a little important to him too. “I want to tell my father about us.”

“Now?” His tone was incredulous, and I understood—even if it stung.

“Yeah, now. Why not? If something happens to him or to me, I want him to know that I’m happy and in love. I need him to know that.”

He shook his head immediately. “Now isn’t a good time, Winter.”

I scoffed. “Let me guess, there will never be a good time.” I saw the writing on the wall. I could share a bed with this man for the next fifteen years and he would still find an excuse to keep this—us—a secret from my father.

“Not never,” he growled. “Just not now.” He raked a hand through his beautiful hair. “Shit Winter, he was beat to a fucking pulp and all he cared about was how you were doing. I can’t tell him. Not now.”

My heart ached at the idea that my dad had been hurt again, but it all sounded like excuses to me. “Not now. When?”

He shoved away from the table, his whole body vibrated with anger. “I can’t deal with this shit right now Winter. I have more important things to worry about.”

His words sliced through my heart leaving it shredded and in tatters. Disappointment coursed through my veins as the truth settled in. I wasn’t as important to him as he was to me. I was a fool. “Right. Okay. Yeah.” There was nothing else to say, nothing that would make a difference anyway. Once again, I was an unwanted burden to man I loved.

It shouldn’t hurt but it did.

It really fucking did.

“Winter,” he began as I shoved away from the table and bit back my tears.

I took a big step back and held my hands up and away from him because I knew his touch would only hurt me even more. “No, it’s fine. I got it, Hollywood.” I squeezed my eyes shut because I didn’t want to see the guilt in his eyes and because I couldn’t look at the other happy couples and maintain my composure. “I understand.”

He reached for me and this time he was faster as he wrapped a hand around my arm. “Come on, Winter.”

I yanked myself free of his hold, at least physically anyway. “You got what you wanted, Hollywood. This conversation is over. Go worry about more important things.” As much as it hurt, I was used to it. I’d been little more than an afterthought for years after my mom died. It stung like hell, but I was used to it.

I was stuck here with Hollywood until this mess was over, which meant I only had one choice—protect myself from falling more for the man who was too ashamed to tell the world we were together.

It was fine.

I wasn’t fine—yet—but I would be. Soon enough.

Until then I drank my weight in tequila and then I curled up on the sofa in the room I had no choice but to share with the man who’d just broken my heart and shattered my dreams of a happy ending with him.