Chapter Three
Two days later, my truck idles outside of the bar Indy works at. My jaw tics as I look down at the last message she sent me, the one where she shoved her hand into my chest and ripped my heart out.
Indy
Yeah, I started seeing someone.
It’s why I’m here. To see for myself.
Andromeda glows in red neon; a stark contrast against the darkened sky, acting as a beacon to the citizens of Ridgewood who dare enter the glorified biker bar.
The building itself is black, a worn-down hole-in-the-wall with paint-chipped siding, no windows, and an oversized parking lot, which, to my surprise, is nearly full.
No less than forty motorcycles take up the first two rows of parking, and the rest of the spots are filled with a collection of vehicles—new and old—all empty as the patrons enjoy themselves inside.
I, on the other hand, have been sitting here for thirty minutes. My stomach turns as I continue to debate whether to get out of the truck.
Driving to Ridgewood was a foolish mistake. One I make more often than I care to admit. But this time my excuse is legitimate—Dylan’s words got under my skin.
The thought of Indy having a boyfriend tears me up inside. And if it’s true, all I want to do is throw caution to the wind and talk some sense into her.
She’s mine. She has to be. I haven’t given up on this yet.
But I know it’s not my place, nor is it my business. I know that.
And I fucking hate it.
It’s been thirteen years of knowing each other, and neither of us have ever been in a serious relationship. I know I can’t speak for her, but I know exactly why I haven’t had that urge to settle down with someone, or hell, even give it a second thought.
How can I when every fiber of my being yearns for her?
I knew the moment my lips touched hers back when I was seventeen years old, she ruined me.
Even now, I will gladly fall to my knees in her presence and worship the ground she walks on if it means getting to enjoy her company for even just a few minutes.
There’s nothing I want more than for her to feel the same as I do.
But if she has a boyfriend…
Movement from across the parking lot catches my attention, and my head snaps to the entrance of the bar.
Magenta soaks my vision. Indy’s hair falls down her back in vibrant waves, bouncing slightly with each step she takes further from the door.
She’s alone, and once she reaches the edge of the building, I practically see her breathe a sigh of relief for the solitude. Leaning against the wall, her eyes close.
Instinctively, I scan the parking lot, but there’s no one around to bother her.
No one except me.
My heart rate accelerates. Should I confront her? Ask her why now? Why this guy?
That’s what I came here to do, right?
In a brief moment of insanity, my hand grips the door. I don’t take my eyes off of Indy, but the moment I engage the handle and it clicks open my phone vibrates with an incoming message.
Austin
Yo, any chance I left my practice cleats in your truck? I can’t find them for the life of me.
My face crumples. Pulling the door shut, I glance over at the passenger side floorboard. I don’t even remember the last time Austin was in my truck, let alone him leaving something behind.
No, I don’t see them.
That was fast. Thanks for looking. Where are you at this hour?
He’s nosy as ever, but Austin doesn’t know anything about me and this little predicament I find myself in.
Instead, I find myself texting Jensen to see if he can talk me out of doing something stupid.
Can you take a call?
The message barely has time to show as delivered before my phone rings a second later. The greeting I give him comes as a huff of annoyance.
“Do I even want to know?” Jensen laughs, not missing a beat.
“Probably not, and I can think of a few choice words you’ll call me when you find out.” Tipping my head back, it hits the leather headrest.
“I don’t understand why you don’t just tell her you still want her,” Jensen tells me.
I know what he's thinking. In his mind, it’s a no-brainer—just go get my girl.
But in reality, it’s not that simple. “I’ve heard you talk about this chick since I met you.
You never date. Hardly ever crawl into another woman’s bed. So what is the problem?”
I rub my hand down my face. “You’ve met the problem. Remember? Six feet tall, hundred and eighty pounds, messy blond hair. Name’s Dylan.”
My gaze reverts to Indy, who now has her arms up over her head, stretching.
God, she’s sexy. She’s wearing a black skirt with a black and pink flannel shirt opened to expose a low-cut top, and her signature combat boots.
Still the same style she’s had for years, and I love she hasn’t strayed away from it—it’s her.
Jensen’s laughter rumbles through the phone.
“Look, I get not wanting to piss her brother off when you were young and dumb teenagers, but now you’re an adult, and arguably in a much better position in your life than you were at when you were eighteen.
Do you really think Dylan would be anything but happy for you? ”
“It’s not solely up to me—” I start to argue, but he cuts me off.
“Yeah, I know it’s up to her too. But without even having a conversation, how is she supposed to change her stance?”
“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” I don’t tell him where here is—he already knows. It’s where I’m always at when he has to talk me off a ledge, except, usually, he’s trying to convince me not to make a fool of myself and to go home.
But tonight… tonight’s different. I told him everything Dylan said about her having a boyfriend.
“You are, but are you actually going to go in this time?”
My gaze lifts to where Indy is still standing against the wall, except now she’s looking down at her phone. The screen illuminates her features, and despite the distance I can still make out every aspect of her. The curve of her delicate nose. Her sharp cheekbones and perfect, pillowy lips.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I make my decision. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say, then I hang up without waiting for him to respond.
The driver’s side door flies open as I push it, stepping out into the warm spring Ridgewood night. My Nikes hit the pavement, the gravel crunching below the soles as I slam the door shut without bothering to lock my truck.
Without taking my eyes off her, I trek through the parking lot, weaving through cars. With each step, my heart thunders harder, anticipation growing.
I have no speech—no plan.
Two rows separate me and the love of my life, and for a second, I wonder if I’m making a mistake. Ignoring the trepidation growing inside me, I let the memories of us flood my mind.
The first time I saw her, when she was just an eighth grader and I was a freshman, her ocean eyes were so vibrant and large, she didn’t look real.
Watching her descend her staircase before the homecoming dance her freshman year, the jet-black dress she wore full of fluffy fabric that billowed down her in choppy layers, the top so tight it accentuated the curves she’d started to get.
The first time I realized I wanted her, when I was a sophomore and she had a crush on Nathan Wells, one of my baseball teammates.
The urge to take a baseball bat to his kneecaps just because she liked him festered in my mind every time I had to practice with him until she finally brushed off that crush like she did the rest of them.
The memories with Indy are endless, spanning throughout our teenage years and well into adulthood, although considerably less once I went to college.
Rounding an old Subaru, I step into her line of sight, but she hasn’t seen me yet, still too engrossed in the cell phone in her hand.
Pulling mine from my pocket, I send her a message, then lean against the hood of the Subaru. The owner shouldn’t mind, it’s not like it's a Jag.
I want to see you.
I’m bordering on desperate at this point, but it’s true. Technically, I haven’t seen her for a few months…
Her fingers dance across the screen, a smile touching her pouty lips in a pursed grin.
I’m close enough to see her eyes track each word, her long eyelashes cast down.
She’s using her thumb to play with a ring on her finger, and her teeth sink into her bottom lip.
She stops, thinking for a second before she types out a reply.
Everything she does sends a jolt of electricity straight to my dick.
Nothing good will come from that, Golden Boy.
“You sure about that, Trouble?” I call out, pushing off the hatchback.
Her head snaps up, gaze meeting mine, as I close the final few steps between us. I turn my hat backward as I stride right into her space.
When I reach her, my hand sweeps into her hair, and I press my thumb against her jaw, tilting her head back.
“What are you doing here?” she asks breathlessly, staring up at me.
“I told you I missed you.” Nerves spike through my bloodstream, but she makes no move to retreat or get out of my hold.
“Gareth—”
My name on her tongue ignites the pilot light that’s always burning for her. Slanting my mouth against hers, I kiss her hard.
There’s nothing hesitant between us, and I feel everything as she sighs and melts against me, parting her lips enough for our tongues to tangle together.
I forgot how much I missed the way she tasted. Like mint and vanilla, and everything I’ve always wanted.
My heart pounds in my chest, her own pulse fluttering beneath my thumb as I hold her jaw, deepening the kiss as I take a step and back her against the wall.
And she kisses me back, reaching between us to dig her manicured nails into my chest and pull me closer, gripping onto the fabric of my shirt.
She moans softly, and I brush my tongue against her lower lip, our bodies against each other, connecting like magnets.
Then she pushes me off her.
Her eyes blaze as I take the step back that she’s demanded of me, my messy hair falling over my eyes a little. I’m lust-drunk on her, my dick aching and begging for more.
But there’s never more.
Just stolen kisses and desperation so palpable it should be illegal.
Indy’s eyes dart around us, looking for something—or someone.
Clenching my jaw, I wait for her gaze to return to mine and shove my hands in my pockets, waiting.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she says, voice tight. Her eyes flick back to the entrance of the bar again. “You need to go.”
“Why?” The word feels like sandpaper in my throat, rough and raw. Pain spears through me like a knife twisting in my heart. I already know the damn answer. I shouldn’t have kissed her this time, but the thought of her with someone else is tearing me apart.
What type of person does that make me? Kissing someone I know is taken?
But she kissed me back.
Annoyance flickers through her irises. “I know Dylan told you. Please don’t make me say it out loud.”
“Just the fact that you won’t say it aloud tells me it’s not serious.”
“It is this time, Gareth. What Zach and I have is new, but he’s a good man.”
“He can’t give you what I can,” I argue, and fuck, all I’m doing is digging myself a deeper hole in pathetic-town cemetery.
“You can’t give me anything, Gareth. Not without betraying Dylan, and I won’t do it. I can’t.”
It’s the same argument we’ve been having for years.
At sixteen. At eighteen. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-six. Seven months ago.
It’s always the same. One of us breaks and seeks out the other. We allow ourselves to indulge in the sweetest sin, then we’re whipped back into reality.
“We’re both adults, don’t you think he’d be happy for us?” I echo a paraphrased version of Jensen’s words.
Sadness passes through her features, and she drops her head, staring at the ground. The slight shake of her head has my heart catapulting to my stomach.
“No.” She lifts her head, pinning me with a stare. I swear I see a hint of mist in her eyes, but she hides it well, her tough exterior ever present. “I don’t.”
Our conversation comes to a halt when Andromeda’s door opens, music pouring out along with a stream of light. Silhouetted against it, a tall, burly guy stomps in our direction.
“Indy,” he barks, the sharp edge in his tone raising my hackles.
I straighten to my full height, turning to face him with my hands balled into fists, ready for anything.
He sizes me up without a second thought, and I do the same.
Dark blond hair is tied back, keeping it out of his face, but his beard looks like he has no desire to tame it.
We’re around the same height, but he has at least fifty pounds on me hidden beneath a white T-shirt and leather vest. A patch is stitched over his chest—a skull surrounded by brass knuckles and roses—clues me into who this guy is.
Club insignia.
Wonderful.
His blue eyes burn with distrust, and I don’t blame him—I just kissed his girlfriend.
His girlfriend.
No. I won’t accept that.
“Everything good out here?” he calls, stopping about six feet away from us. Crossing his arms over his chest, he never takes his eyes off me.
“Yeah.” Indy’s voice is strong, like she’s built up walls around herself. I glance back at her, and our eyes lock, her message unmistakable. “He was just leaving.”
“Great,” he mutters, repositioning himself so he leans against the building, still watching.
My fingers twitch, begging to reach for her, but I keep my arms flanked by my sides. My gaze drops to her mouth, her lips still swollen from my kiss, and I shift my eyes back to hers, letting a silent goodbye pass through us.
I spare her boyfriend one final look, unsettled by his behavior and the distance he’s kept. He makes no move to get closer to her, but he isn’t going back inside either. Instead, he’s just guarding. Watching. Waiting for me to leave.
That’s my cue.
So I turn back to the parking lot, tail tucked firmly between my legs, and head for my truck with her eyes on my back, searing into me like the kiss still burning against my lips.