Chapter Twenty-Seven
MONROE
Iwake up alone and have no idea what time it is.
With no windows in Crew’s room, I have no way to judge if it’s still the middle of the night or early morning.
I reach for my phone that Crew had placed on the end table next to me, seeing it’s after two a.m. I have a missed text from my mom, so I open it up.
Mom: I’m glad you’re having a good time. Grandma loves him. Be safe, and I’m here if you need anything
Huh? I sit up in bed, resting my back against the headboard. I look at the above texts, confused.
Me: I’m going on a date tonight and just wanted to let you know so you didn’t worry. I probably won’t be back home until tomorrow.
Did Crew send my mom a text at some point? I know I didn’t send that, so he must have. I don’t know how he got my phone unlocked or when, but the thought is touching and not at all creepy. He cared enough about me to check in with my mom. Something I probably should have done, in hindsight.
I put my phone back down on the end table and look around the room.
I don’t know how long he’s been gone, but I don’t plan on going to look for him in this place.
Everyone seemed nice enough, in a rough-around-the-edges kind of way, but they’re still a club of ruthless bikers, and after lewd comments got someone stabbed tonight, I’m not comfortable taking my chances.
So much has happened in the last two days, and I feel like Crew and I are rapidly falling for each other. Or maybe it’s a high. Whatever it is, I can’t get enough.
Crew’s bedroom is simple, with bare walls and no real personal items that could give me further insight into him. Something tells me he’s simple, just needing the bare minimum. I suppose after the childhood, or lack thereof, that he had, it would make him a humbler man.
I can’t wrap my head around the types of humans his parents had to be to abuse him like that.
I’m not sorry they’re dead, but I am sorry that Crew had to be the one to do it.
That he was pushed so far that he snapped.
We can only take so much trauma before we either give up completely or start to fight back.
I’d say I don’t believe in complacency, but that’s exactly how I’ve been living after my own trauma.
I don’t want to live like that anymore.
I want Crew and me both to step out of the shadows we’ve been living in and enjoy the light.
I don’t need to release myself of the guilt I have over surviving that accident when my friends didn’t.
I need to let go of the pressure of living wrong or doing the wrong thing because all eyes are on me.
Crew and I just need to live. And I really want to do that together.
He may be unconventional and slightly unhinged at times, but I’ve embraced it from the first moment he stood in front of me in the preparation room and ran his fingers down the bridge of my nose.
Should I be more concerned that he stalked me and broke into my house while I slept?
Probably. But he’s curious and guarded, and he was exploring me the only way he felt safe to do so.
I wouldn’t change a thing about how we started, and I’m determined to make this a happy ending for both of us.
I pull the sheet up over my chest and wait for him to return, dozing on and off.
I know he doesn’t sleep, and I understand why now, but it doesn’t seem right that he would leave me the first night he’s had me over.
Especially after how he slept so soundly next to me in my bed last night.
A gnawing warning settles deep in my belly, my pulse beating at a higher rate.
Something doesn’t feel right, and that worries me.
Is this what life would be like with him?
I haven’t met Jesse’s widow yet, but hearing Crew talk about how she’d stay at the clubhouse, how she’s all of their responsibility now, was heartbreakingly beautiful.
They’re a family here. I just wonder how the women handle the fear of something happening to their men, like what happened to Jesse.
My eyes grow heavy, and my head bobs every time my body starts to give back in to sleep, but I don’t lie back down.
I need to know he’s okay before my body and mind can completely settle.
It shouldn’t be possible after such a short time together, but I miss him.
I want to be wrapped up in his arms right now.
I’m craving the steady beat of his heart and the slow, controlled cadence of his breathing.
I feel him return before I see him, recognizing his presence as he walks into the room.
Silent as a breeze in the night, Crew appears in the doorway of his bedroom.
His silhouette is bathed in darkness, a menacing presence looming at the edge of the room.
Silent, foreboding. Energy pulses off of him in waves, nearly choking me with something thick and heavy.
My veins turn to ice beneath my skin. Is he hurt? Where was he?
I quickly flick the bedside lamp on, the light assaulting my eyes.
I squint at the onslaught, blinking to get my vision to clear.
Crew stands unmoving in the doorway as I pull the blankets off of me, my bare feet making contact with the cool concrete floor.
I yank at the sheet, carrying it with me to keep my naked body covered.
I really wish I had clothes on right about now.
There’s something so incredibly vulnerable about standing in front of him like this with nothing but a sheet to hide behind.
My eyes meet the man in front of me, his head cocked to the side as he looks at me, but he’s not seeing me, of that I’m certain.
Crew’s naturally dark brown eyes are near black, soulless, and empty, and they’re looking right through me.
I stumble on my feet, my hand moving toward my stomach as my heart sinks into the pit of it.
The man in front of me isn’t Crew. This man?
This is who he warned me about. This is Malice.
He’s wearing black combat boots, ripped denim jeans, and his leather vest, sans shirt.
But there’s so much blood. It stains his blond hair, streaking down his face, arms, and his bare abdomen.
He’s something straight out of a horror movie.
I’ve never seen so much blood covering one person before, and I don’t know if it’s his or not.
He doesn’t move, and while I can’t see the rapid rise and fall of his chest in the dim light, I can feel how strung out he is. Whatever happened tonight, it wasn’t good.
He needs me.
I take several steps in his direction, coming to the very end of the bed, standing a few feet in front of him. A deep, warning growl releases from his throat, more animalistic than man. I should be scared. I should run. I should scream for help. But I won’t do any of those things.
“Crew?” I say hesitantly as I slowly reach my hand out to him in offering.
“Aren’t you scared, pixie?” His voice is strained, pained, deeper than normal, like he’s using every fiber of his being to stay in control despite the warring emotions and adrenaline pulsing through him.
“I’m only scared of you getting hurt.”
“You need to leave. I-I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s worried about me?
“You would never hurt me, Crew. I trust you.”
“Pixie . . . please, go.”
Never. I won’t abandon him.
“I’m not leaving you, Crew. We’re going to get through this.”
“I can’t hurt you.”
“Shh, you won’t. I know you won’t hurt me. Are you okay?”
Crew’s head cocks to the side again, regarding me, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he stands frozen. “I-I don’t know.”
“Come here.”