Chapter 10
It was late Monday morning, and I was out in my backyard with a mug of coffee in one hand and my garden hose in the other. The weather was perfect. The skies were clear. The breeze hit just right—but I was hardly aware of any of it, my mind stuck in a moment I’d lived twenty-four hours ago.
I woke the previous morning with a start on Twister’s couch, still tucked underneath his arm, the sun pouring in through his coverless windows.
To my surprise, at some point during slumber, he shifted, taking me with him.
Rather than stretched out in front of him, his legs were propped up along the sofa, and he laid on his back.
I was smushed between him and the back cushions.
While it wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable physically, it left me feeling mentally compromised, and I knew right away I needed to move.
How I would manage to do such a thing without waking Twister, I wasn’t sure—but I knew I needed to try.
I didn’t get two inches before his arms tightened around me.
‘Where do you think you’re goin’?’
I lifted my coffee to my lips, needing something—anything—to bring me back to the here and now.
I didn’t want to think about how sexy his voice sounded upon waking.
I didn’t want to think about how cozy I’d been pressed up against his solid, warm chest. I certainly didn’t want to analyze what it meant that I slept soundly and all night beside a man for the first time in longer than a decade.
And if I was honest with myself—maybe the first time ever.
‘I got you, sparky. You’re safe.’
I barely knew him. I knew of him. I understood his reputation as much as I understood the reputation the Stallions had as a collective.
I’d seen it time and time again the way they stood up for the weak and the innocent.
I’d seen the way they protected the ones they loved.
But a part of me knew, in spite of what I could assume, there was more to Twister than what met the eye.
I didn’t know him nearly enough to believe so unquestionably I was safe with him. Experience had taught me, there was a monster in all of us. I didn’t know what could wake his, which meant I shouldn’t have felt so safe lying next to him—but there was a part of me that couldn’t help it.
Or maybe I didn’t want to.
At first, I thought I was able to fall asleep with Twister because we were on a couch rather than a bed, but I knew it didn’t matter.
On a couch, in a bed, on the floor, in a fucking cell with Sean chained to the wall, it made no difference.
Once he showed me who he really was, I knew I wasn’t safe.
He could turn on the charm, he could shower me with gifts, he could tell me how much he loved me, but it was all a lie.
I knew nothing of romance.
I knew nothing of love—except that it was for people far different than me.
What Twister and I were doing, it wasn’t love. I couldn’t say whether or not it was romance, either, but I knew I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
And it would have been pure and utter bullshit to say I didn’t like it.
For once, I felt normal.
We exchanged numbers before I left. The goodbye kiss which followed wasn’t one I’d soon forget. I could still feel the embers of it flickering pathetically in my belly.
It was strange, how foreign all these sensations were to me.
As a woman who had once been married, it was overwhelming to understand how much I’d settled by choosing my husband and the monster he was.
I was smart enough to have run; smart enough to accept the mistakes I made; smart enough to learn to live with the consequences and to not let history repeat itself.
But in some ways, I felt like I didn’t know anything—like I was a novice when it came to navigating anything that even so much as masqueraded as romance.
My phone began to vibrate from within the side pocket of my leggings. I cut off the hose, set it at my feet, and fished out the ringing device.
It was Georgia.
I stared at the screen, going back and forth as to whether or not I wanted to hear what she had to say. Her name hadn’t graced the screen of my phone since Saturday night. I knew she and Tommy were gone, but I didn’t know how . After a few seconds, my curiosity got the better of me.
“Hello?” I answered.
“I thought maybe you’d call, but clearly you couldn’t give two fucks! ” she screeched in greeting.
I immediately regretted answering.
She was right.
I didn’t give two fucks.
“Why would I call?”
“What, they didn’t tell you? Those bastards beat the living hell out of Tommy.
He needed a doctor after they were through with him.
But they chased us out of town—told us if I was going to take him to a hospital, it wasn’t going to be in Gillette.
They followed us for nearly an hour, Ali-Mae!
I had to drive Tommy all the way to Caspar.
We’re just now leaving the hospital with a bill you know good and damn well we can’t afford.
“This is your fault! I can’t believe you’d send them after us. What the hell did we ever do to you? Huh? All I ever did was provide for you. And this is the thanks I get? You ungrateful, little?—”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and disconnected the call. When my phone started vibrating again, the thought occurred to me that I could tell her. I could answer and tell her exactly what Tommy had done to me. I could tell her exactly why I hated him—why I hated them both .
Except, even in my anger, I could feel myself as I began to tremble; and the trembles weren’t a result of my hatred, but a reminder of the pain. The shame. The resentment. The fear.
When my eyes grew blurry with tears, I rejected her call and instinctively went to my contacts and blocked her number. I then lowered myself onto the ground, held my coffee mug with both hands, stared at the flowers in front of me, and drew in a deep breath.
I wasn’t a girl anymore.
I wasn’t trapped anymore.
I was free.
My vision was just beginning to clear when my phone buzzed with an alert.
Triggered, I snatched the device up in anger—but then I saw his name, and it was as if I’d been injected with a syringe full of calm .
How about that date?
I frowned at my screen even as a feeling of lightness filled my lungs with my next breath.
You mean the other night?
That wasn’t a date. That was a hang.
Now it’s Monday.
A hint of a smile played at my lips as my mother’s voice in my head dissipated into the distance.
Kind of short notice, don’t you think?
You got other plans?
Was thinking of starting a new book tonight…
Right. I’ll pick you up. What’s your address?
I shook my head, but I was still smiling as I set aside my mug so I could text with both thumbs.
You don’t need to pick me up. I’ll just meet you out.
I didn’t spare a thought for how he’d barely had to work to get me to concede to leaving home for the night.
Wrong again, sparky. I’m picking you up.
This time, I hesitated, my smile slipping a little as I considered his text.
The last time someone picked me up for a real date, I was nineteen.
Then, he pulled up in a Porche. I much preferred the idea of a Harley—but even still, I wasn’t so sure.
Whatever we were doing, I knew it was temporary.
Whatever memories we created, I needed to be able to lock them away when the time came.
This meant he didn’t get to come inside my home.
There were some boundaries best left uncrossed.
Before I could think of a reply, my phone began to ring.
It was Twister calling.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Baby—not to freak you out, but I think we both know, if I really wanted to find out where you lived, I wouldn’t need your help. And I’m not talkin’ about askin’ Mustang, either.”
I curled my legs against my chest, wrapping an arm around my shins as I thought about what he said. He was right, and I wasn’t completely ignorant. The Stallions had their ways—whatever they were.
He’d found Tommy. He beat the living hell out of him. His monster sought its prey and won. Now, while it was possible his comment should have raised a red flag, the fact that he’d been so transparent about it made me trust him more. Not less.
‘I got you, sparky. You’re safe.’
“I won’t even come to the door if you don’t want me to,” he continued reassuringly. “But I’d like to pick you up. It’s my turn to take you for a ride.”
I hid my smile from no one and narrowed my eyes at him, even though he wasn’t there to see me do it. “I’m not dressin’ up. You know that, right?”
“Phoenix—I drive a hog, not a state coach. Don’t care what you wear.”
My belly tingled in excitement, and I knew then I was only delaying the inevitable. Truth of the matter was, I wanted to go out with him. I wanted him to pick me up. I wanted to be the kind of woman worthy of the chase—even if only for a little while.
We’d started something. Not on purpose, but he was right. It was real.
Even just the sound of his voice made my belly twinge with anticipation.
I pulled my phone away from my ear, typed out my address in our text thread, and hit send. Lifting the device once more, I asked, “What time?”
“Seven.”
One word. Two syllables.
How was it possible I heard his smile in that one word? In two syllables?
How was it possible that hearing it made me grin?
“Fine. See you at seven.”
I didn’t give him the chance to say goodbye. Playfully, I hung up without another word then grabbed what remained of my coffee and stood to my feet. Not two seconds later, I got another text alert.
Later, sparky.
I rolled my eyes. But— damnit —I did it smiling.