Chapter Thirteen
Abby
“So, are you going to give him a chance?” Cody asks, leaning back against the cutting table like this is casual conversation and not the emotional equivalent of defusing a bomb.
I pull a roll of ivory silk from the shelf and flop it onto the table a little harder than necessary.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “On one hand… I really want to. I love him. I always have.”
“But?” Lila prompts gently.
I exhale slowly and smooth my hands over the fabric.
“Let’s say I do,” I continue. “Let’s say I lower my shield and go back to being the girl who pined after the man who didn’t want her.
What happens if he changes his mind again?
What if I say something wrong? Do something he doesn’t like?
What if he wakes up one day and decides I’m too much? Or not enough?”
Cody’s expression softens.
“I can’t survive another rejection from him,” I whisper. “I just can’t. The first time nearly broke me. The years after? That slow burn of him keeping me at arm’s length while I stood there loving him anyway? That did something to me.”
Lila steps closer, resting her hip against the table.
“But he’s not that man anymore,” she says.
“Isn’t he?” I shoot back. “Or is he just guilty?”
The room goes quiet.
“I don’t want to be someone’s guilt,” I add softly. “I don’t want to be the girl he chooses because something bad happened to me. I want to be the woman he chooses because he can’t imagine breathing without me.”
Cody tilts his head.
“And do you think that’s what this is?” he asks carefully.
I hesitate.
Because that’s the part that scares me most.
“When he looks at me now,” I admit, “it’s different. It’s not pity. It’s not guilt. It’s… hunger. Regret. Determination. Like he finally understands what he almost lost.”
“And that terrifies you,” Lila says.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Because if I let myself believe him… If I let myself fall all the way, and he changes his mind again?”
I shake my head.
“There won’t be anything left of me to pick up.”
Cody pushes off the table and walks around to stand in front of me.
“You’re not that girl anymore,” he says firmly. “You’re not the one who begs for scraps. You’re not the one waiting by the phone. You’ve built a business. A name. A life.”
Lila nods.
“And if he walks away this time,” she adds softly, “it won’t destroy you. It’ll hurt. It’ll wreck you for a while. But it won’t end you.”
I swallow hard.
“Love shouldn’t feel like a cliff,” I whisper.
“No,” Cody says. “But sometimes it feels like jumping. The difference is whether you trust the person at the bottom to catch you.”
“And do you?” Lila asks gently.
I close my eyes for a second.
I see Tank’s face when he thinks I’m not looking. The way he hovers without suffocating. The way he steps back when I need space. The way he looks at me like I’m already his future.
The same way I looked at him for years.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
And that might be the most honest answer I’ve ever given.
“You said you were the girl who pined after the man who didn’t want you,” Cody says quietly, all the usual sass stripped away. “But that’s not entirely true, is it?”
I frown. “Of course it is. I stood there for years wishing and praying Tank would open his eyes and actually see me.”
Cody shakes his head slowly.
“No. The part about him not wanting you,” he says. “That’s the lie you’ve told yourself, so it hurts less.”
I blink at him.
“Tank has always wanted you,” he continues gently. “He’s loved you for a long time. Even I can see that, and I barely know the man.”
I scoff, but it comes out weak.
“Abby,” he presses, stepping closer, “he didn’t reject you because he didn’t want you. He pushed you away because he wanted you too much.”
Lila nods softly.
“He was scared,” she adds. “Scared of what loving you meant. Scared of failing you. Scared of losing you. So he built excuses. Your innocence. Your brother. The club. Your safety. Anything that made it sound noble instead of terrified.”
My chest tightens.
“That doesn’t make it better,” I whisper.
“No,” Cody agrees. “It doesn’t. It still hurt you. It still left you standing there feeling unwanted.”
He reaches for my hands.
“But don’t rewrite history in a way that shrinks you,” he says firmly. “You weren’t pining after a man who didn’t want you. You were loving a man who was too cowardly to admit he loved you back.”
The words land somewhere deep.
“I begged him,” I say, shame creeping into my voice. “I told him I loved him over and over again.”
“And that takes courage,” Lila says immediately. “Not weakness.”
Cody nods.
“You were brave enough to love out loud,” he says. “He wasn’t. That’s on him. Not you.”
I swallow hard.
“So what?” I whisper. “Now he’s brave, and I’m the coward?”
Cody’s mouth curves softly.
“No,” he says. “Now you’re cautious. There’s a difference.”
Lila steps closer, brushing her shoulder against mine.
“You don’t have to be the girl who waits anymore,” she says. “If he wants you, let him prove it. Let him show up. Let him earn the version of you that survived his rejections.”
My throat burns.
“He says he knows his words don’t mean much,” I murmur. “But that he would prove himself to be with his actions.”
“Good,” Cody says. “Then let him.”
Silence settles between us, but it’s not heavy. It’s thoughtful.
“You weren’t unwanted,” Cody says one last time, softer now. “You were loved by a man who didn’t know how to love you properly.”
And somehow…
That truth hurts less than the lie I’ve been carrying.
***
Twin One walks me to the gate while Twin Two lingers back with Mike, murmuring something low.
“You know, Twin One,” I say, crossing my arms as we approach the gate, “your vehicle is literally five feet away. I’m fairly certain I could survive that trek without an escort.”
“Don says protect you,” he replies in that flat, unbothered tone. “The Don gets what he wants.”
I roll my eyes as the gate buzzes open.
“Good to know this is coming from the heart,” I mutter, stepping inside. “And for the record? Your Don is just as much a pain in my butt as the rest of you.”
“I’ve killed men for saying less.”
I shriek and jump back so hard I nearly trip over my own feet.
Luckily, a strong hand catches my elbow before I can fully embarrass myself.
Maverick steadies me, one dark brow arched in amusement.
“You’re going to give me a complex, Principessa,” he says smoothly. “That was almost insulting.”
“You can’t just materialize out of nowhere like some well-dressed assassin!” I snap, pressing a hand to my chest. “Normal people make noise when they walk. Something you and your men seem to forget. Which only confirms my alien theory.”
“I was making noise,” he replies mildly. “You were busy complaining about me.”
Fair point.
He releases me once I’m steady, hands sliding casually into his pockets.
“Were my cousins on their best behavior?” he asks.
“If by ‘best behavior’ you mean refusing to let me pee without first checking the bathroom for threats, and then one of them refusing to leave the dang room,” I say dryly, “then no.”
Maverick’s mouth twitches.
“They are thorough.”
“They are terrifying,” I correct. “One of my customers nearly fainted when Twin Two blinked too aggressively.”
“They take their job seriously,” he says. “You are important.”
I narrow my eyes. “To who?”
His gaze flicks toward the clubhouse, then back to me.
“To all of us,” he says. “Both Shadows and the Italians.”
For a second, the teasing fades.
Then he tilts his head slightly.
“And for the record,” he adds, tone going silk-smooth again, “my cousins may not do this from the heart… but I do not assign protection lightly.”
My irritation dims just a fraction.
“Still doesn’t mean I enjoy being shadowed by two brooding alien gargoyles,” I mutter.
Maverick smiles slowly.
“Gargoyles are traditionally placed to guard something valuable,” he says. “You should be flattered.”
I sigh dramatically.
“If they abduct me and take me to their home world, I’m blaming you.”
His laughter follows me as I head deeper into the compound.
And despite myself, I feel safer knowing the gargoyles are watching.
“Bye, alien gargoyles!” I call over my shoulder.
And immediately run face-first into a wall.
A very warm. Very solid. Very muscular wall.
Hands clamp down on my hips before I can bounce backward.
“Careful, babygirl,” Tank rumbles above me.
I freeze.
Because his hands are not ‘helping-me-balance’ hands like Maverick’s were.
They are firm. Possessive.
He bends to meet my height, his body blocking the sun like he was handcrafted by some higher power that said, Let’s overdo it.
“Hey,” he adds, smiling down at me like I didn’t just almost concuss myself on his chest. “How’d things go today?”
I blink up at him, trying not to notice how warm his palms feel through the thin fabric of my dress.
“If I asked you to kill someone,” I say sweetly, “would you?”
“In a heartbeat,” he answers without missing one.
“Even if it’s someone you know?” I press.
His expression sharpens instantly.
“This person hurt you?”
“Annoyed me,” I correct.
“Then yes.”
“Without too many questions?” I test.
“Without hesitation,” he adds.
I nod solemnly. “Good. You’re hired.”
“You’re not hiring Tank to kill my cousins, Principessa,” Maverick’s amused voice drifts in from somewhere close behind me.
Tank’s hands flex slightly at my hips, like he forgot they were there…but he doesn’t remove them.
“Brother,” Maverick continues lazily, “will you let Spike know we’ll be back in the morning?”
“I wasn’t going to hire him,” I say, turning to glare at Maverick affectively…accidently…removing Tank’s hands from my body.
And I absolutely mourn the loss of contact.
“I was going to make a strong suggestion,” I finish primly.
Maverick laughs.
Tank doesn’t.
“Did they give you trouble?” Tank asks, his entire body already coiled like he’s prepared to dismantle someone on my behalf.
“They wouldn’t let me pee without conducting a tactical sweep,” I deadpan.
Tank’s jaw twitches.
But not in the murderous way I expected.
In the amused way.
“I told them to keep eyes on you at all times, baby,” he says, voice lowering just slightly. “I’m sure they had their backs turned.”
I open my mouth to argue…dramatically, I might add…but stop.
Because technically… he’s right.
They were obnoxious.
Not inappropriate.
“Well, I’m going to fire them,” I declare instead.
“No,” Maverick says lightly. “You won’t. They did exactly what they were told.”
I cross my arms. “I am not a high-profile political figure.”
“No,” Tank says quietly.
His tone shifts.
“You’re something far more valuable.”
The teasing evaporates.
Heat climbs up my neck.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Maverick says smoothly, already stepping back toward the gate.
“Everything else okay?” Tank asks.
And just like that, I remember exactly why giving this man another chance feels like stepping off a cliff.
Because he’s gentle when I least expect it.
Because he pays attention.
Because he sounds like he means it.
All things I’ve been hoping and praying for from him…for years.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Everything’s fine.”
He studies me for a long moment, like he’s trying to read the parts I’m not saying out loud.
“Good,” he says finally.
But he doesn’t touch me again.
Doesn’t reach for my hand.
Doesn’t tuck a strand of hair behind my ear like he probably wants to.
He just stands there.
Waiting.
And for some reason, I miss the weight of his hands on my hips more than I want to admit.
“Want to come have dinner with me?” I ask before I can overthink it. Because apparently, my mouth and my heart have formed an alliance against my pride.
His expression softens.
“Not tonight, babygirl.”
I blink.
Frown.
Wait.
Isn’t this what he’s been pushing for? Isn’t this the part where he eagerly says yes and looks smug about finally being invited?
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He doesn’t look annoyed. Doesn’t look relieved either.
He looks… steady.
“I’ve got club business tonight,” he says quietly. “And if I sit across from you at a table right now, knowing I have to leave in the middle of it? I won’t concentrate on anything but you.”
My frown deepens.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does,” he says gently. “You asked me. That means something.”
My stomach flips.
“And I’m not going to take your first offer and rush it,” he continues. “Not when I’ve spent years messing this up. When we do dinner, I want my full attention on you. No distractions. No phones. No interruptions.”
He steps just a little closer…not touching me.
“You deserve more than scraps of my time, Abby.”
The hurt I didn’t know was rising inside me… settles.
Oh.
He isn’t rejecting me.
“I thought…” I start, then stop.
“You thought I was changing my mind already?” he asks softly.
I don’t answer. I don’t have to.
His hands twitch like he wants to reach for me, but he keeps them both at his sides.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “But I’m also not going to rush you. Or take what you offer when I can give you better.”
My chest feels too tight.
“So… another night?” I manage.
He smiles…slow, warm, patient.
“You pick it,” he says. “And I’ll clear my damn schedule.”
And suddenly the cliff doesn’t feel quite as terrifying.
Still high.
Still risky.
But maybe…
Maybe he’s building something at the bottom to catch me after all.