Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Haze
My neck is sore when I wake up because I was the idiot who opted to sleep on the couch.
I don’t know why I chose tonight to be a fucking saint, but deep inside a part of me knows that if we really want to make things last this time, we have to go about them differently.
I want nothing more than to be in bed with my girl, but I also know that this isn’t just about our physical attraction.
It’s so much more than that. If I tried to break it down into words, they’d never come, but I know how I feel, and I know she does too.
I meant every word I said, including that Willow doesn’t have to say it back.
The fact she told me she’s always loved me was enough, but it also made me think about that time and what we’d both been through.
I’m also battling with the fact that I’m lying to her about the threats.
I know it’s for her own good, but the guilt flooded through me when I made that speech about honesty and communication.
She’ll nail my ass if I don’t come clean, but I need some rock hard evidence before any of that happens.
I’m not here because of that — just to protect her.
I’m here because she’s my wife and I intend on keeping it that way.
I roll over, yawning. I left Crunch in his crate — it’s the size of Manhattan for a rabbit, but I don’t like to leave him for long periods of time.
If I’d thought about it, I should’ve brought him here for the night, not that I’ve introduced him to Willow.
I don’t know what she’d think of him, though, she’s always been an animal person.
It’s in her nature to be kind, but having a job like hers leaves her with no time for a pet.
She grew close to Callaghan’s dog, Calli, when they were partners, and she sees them both often. But rabbits aren’t like dogs or cats, they’re way less needy.
I yawn again, rubbing my eyes with both palms. I check the time. It’s still early, but I have to get up and go to the gym.
I shoot a text to the prospect group chat to find out who’s on Willow watch and I get a message back in a few seconds. Lucky for them. We take shit seriously at the Rebels, and we train the prospects properly. If they fuck up, ain’t no way they’re ever gonna get a patch.
Streak
I’m across the street with Base
Two of the newer prospects, but both are reliable.
Me
Good. Make sure you stay out of sight
Again, I push my guilt down because I know this is me protecting her the way I know how. It’s for her own good.
“How did you sleep?” Willow’s voice sounds across the room.
I slide my phone onto the coffee table and sit up. “Got a crook in my neck that may never be ironed out, but other than that I’m good.”
“I can’t believe you slept on the couch.”
“I told you I’m serious about this. Does it mean I regret what we already did? Not a chance, but this is me bein’ real, to show you I’m serious.”
She shakes her head, bemused. “I think not having sex with anyone except for me is enough to show me that you’re serious.”
“I don’t wanna fuck it up.”
“Then we need boundaries,” she says. “But before that heavy talk, coffee?”
I rise, stretching out. I don’t miss the way her eyes skate down my body, landing at my crotch. Well, I’m a briefs guy, and it is morning. My wood can’t be helped.
“My eyes are up here,” I say with a smile.
“If you expect me not to look when you hang around my apartment looking like that first thing in the morning, this ‘getting to know each other’ is going to be extremely difficult.” She shakes her head, turning on her heel and heads to the kitchen.
And I follow. “We did have a marriage pact,” I remind her. “Remember?”
“You’re reminding me of that now, before I’ve had one single hit of caffeine?”
“Uh, huh.”
Well, we did. Not just our vows. A pact. If neither of us had moved on in five years, we’d get back together. I wonder if she even remembers. At the time, she was angry, so I sincerely doubt it.
She sets about making coffee in a french press and I marvel as I watch her work.
Why can’t she see how easy everything is between us?
Even the bickering makes for great makeup sex, I can see that nothing has changed there.
Punishing myself, however, seems like the most obvious way to go because, deep down, I know I shouldn’t have left.
I was trying to overdo the Mr. Nice Guy act that I’d never even contemplate doing now. Not if it meant letting her go.
“I trust you take your coffee the same?” she asks.
“You remember?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not rocket science, plus, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
“That’s pretty accurate.”
Our eyes meet. “Sometimes we change. I take half and half now.”
“Well, I like things just the way they are,” I say.
“Which is extra creamer, and one spoonful of sugar, extra strong.” Okay, she did remember. That’s just how I like it. “Haze, some things are just etched into one’s memory.”
Like the good times. Man, there were so many good times.
“I agree.” Taking my coffee, I groan at how good it tastes because she made it.
My dick swells at the thought of taking her on the kitchen counter while she brews her cup of coffee, but I’m the one who made these new rules, and I want to prove to her that our connection isn’t just physical. It’s so much more than that.
“Like the time you swiped Brew’s truck for a few days without telling him and he thought it had been stolen,” she laughs.
I laugh too. “Man, I haven’t thought about that in years. He was so proud of that piece of shit. He’d saved up all summer just to impress some girl.”
“I never thought Brew would be loved up in a million years.”
“You’re tellin’ me.”
“Erica is good for him,” she says. “He’s a family man now.”
“Well, he always did want kids.”
“What about you, has your stance changed on that?”
I glance up. Here we are, sharing coffee and casually talking about kids. What kind of twilight zone is this?
“Nope. I mean, just look around, the world is pretty fucked up.”
“Tell me about it,” she agrees. “Some of the shit I see makes me scared as an adult, much less having a child out in the world.”
I swallow down the secret I’m keeping. She has plenty to be scared about if that letter is actually legit. But I’m not gonna let that happen. Not on my watch.
“So you still don’t want kids?”
She shrugs. “I haven’t thought about it too much, but I kinda like my childless life if I’m being honest. Not that you can say that out loud without people getting mad at you.”
“Tell me about it, my mom is always hintin’ about settlin’ down. Thank god Erica is pregnant so she’s got a diversion, otherwise, me and Logan would never hear the end of it,” I grunt.
Willow takes a sip, smiling to herself. “How is your mom?”
I sigh. “The same.”
“Ball busting and swearing like a trooper?”
“Nailed it.”
She laughs, clutching her mug with both hands. “She was always nice to me.”
That she was. My mom loved Willow, and coming from her, that was something. Mom doesn’t really like too many people.
“Of course she was, she adored you.”
“I guess we kinda just understood one another, which was weird in itself because we’re nothing alike.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “You’re both good at ball bustin’.”
“Ha-ha.” She checks the time on her phone and says, “I’ve gotta get ready, heading into the office this morning to debrief.”
“I call shotgun. Gotta quickly use the gym downstairs, and if we can stop at my place so I can check on Crunch, that’d be great.”
She frowns, and I know she’s about to chastise me about using her facilities when I don’t even live here, then she picks up on the last part. “Crunch? When did you get a dog?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I didn’t. Crunch is a rabbit.”
Her eyes widen. “You got a rabbit? When?”
I shrug. “A while back. He’s a rescue, and really sweet. Thinks he’s a dog. Loves the girls and belly rubs.”
She eyes me as if trying to work out if I’m pulling her leg. Shaking her head, she sets her mug down on the counter. “This I have to see.”
“Don’t poke fun until you’ve actually met him, he’s a character.”
“Who says I’m poking fun? I’m just wondering how you managed to keep something else alive other than yourself.”
“Funny.” I swat her ass as she turns to leave, then adjust my cock as I watch her walk away.
This is fucking fucked.
What was I even thinking about taking things slow?
Now I have to suffer through my own exile for absolutely no reason.
It’s bullshit, but it’s my own doing. I also have a busy day of my own investigative work to do if we’re going to try and move forward with this bullshit mystery man who’s sending my girl death threats she doesn’t know about.
While Sinclair is tracking down anyone in the force who may have a grudge, I need to look into any ex’s she may have had, aside from this two-date Connor dick I still have to deal with.
I’ll be damned if he’s going to get away with showing up at her workplace after she’s shut him down.
That’s the trouble with some assholes today — they just don’t get the hint.
But he’s going to be very aware of it when I spell it out for him.
Assholes like Connor just go around thinking they can schmooze women because of their prestigious job, their designer suits and flashy white teeth, but deep down he’s probably one of those guys who would run away and leave his date if it came down to protecting her.
He’d save his own hide each and every time.
I’m her husband, for better or worse.
I head back to the couch to recover my clothes. I have my gym stuff in the saddlebag of my motorcycle, not that I wanted to be a foregone conclusion bringing a change of clothes with me up to her apartment. More like two birds, one stone.
Willow gets called in earlier than expected, so I tell her I’ll see her at work — which feels kinda weird to my own ears, truth be told. She can always come over to meet Crunch later. I know he’ll adore Willow.
First up, I have to check in with Sawyer, as well as Rock and Jett, to see if anything is out of the ordinary on the cameras. It’s a tedious job, but since the Nomad Brothers add significantly to the club coffers, this is pay dirt for them as well.
My phone rings and I glance at the screen. I don’t expect to get a call from Max. And I definitely don’t expect him to know exactly what his father and I are up to. I guess I didn’t give his punk ass enough credit for paying attention.
“Cut City Boys,” he says down the line. “We need to talk about that.”
“I’m listenin’.”
“Not over the phone. Muso’s,” he says, referring to Hustler’s cafe. “I figure it’s safe territory.”
“This better be worth my while. I’ve got shit to do.”
“It will be if we’re gonna figure out what the fuck to do next.”
We.
I frown a whole lot more. Frankly, I don’t want Max being involved, but here we are.
I’m stuck with the little shit, and now I wanna know what he knows.
“I’ll be there in half an hour. Don’t be fuckin’ late.”
“You got it.”