Chapter 21
Sarge
She isn’t hiding. She’s bolting.
I may not understand women, but I’m not a complete idiot.
The way Hannah retreated into herself when Aimee came to take our order wasn’t lost on me. I’m not sure what kind of shit is swirling around in that pretty head of hers, but I can only imagine it isn’t good.
Her playful demeanor and joking tone went out the window the second our waitress compared her to the girl I brought in just weeks ago.
I’ll give it to Aimee—the girls have similarities.
But I don’t think her intentions were completely pure.
Ever since she caught her husband fucking around behind her back, she’s been skeptical of every man with a pulse.
I can’t say I blame her, but what’s happening here with Hannah is nothing like the mess that broke her.
I want to go after her. If she’s actually feeling sick, I want the Doc to get eyes on her and make sure everything is alright. But if she isn’t sick... then I need to reassure her that she’s the only woman who’s held my interest in a long damn time.
She likes to act like she doesn’t need those things. Reassurance. Like she’s built to handle everything on her own. But everyone needs someone, and I hate the thought of her alone in that bathroom, convinced she’s just a passing thought in my mind.
I know too well how hard it can be to open yourself up. Before Evette, I thought I had life figured out. I had a successful career in the Army, membership in one of the most powerful MCs in the Southwest, and I never had to go looking for a woman. They came to me.
They came to all of us. The clubhouse was always full on the weekends, and there was never a shortage of tail to chase.
Life was good and easy, but it was also hollow.
After Evette, I realized that love and meaningful connections actually existed—you just had to offer them to the right person. Evette wasn’t that person for me.
Once that mess was behind us, I closed the club’s doors on weekends to make our space more private, moving the partying down the road to Rawhide.
I’m not that young, reckless soldier anymore. I don’t want the crowd. I want the woman currently hiding in the bathroom because she thinks she’s just another name on a long list.
Needing her to know exactly where she stands with me, I push back from the table. I stand to... do what, I’m not entirely sure. Knock on the door and hope she doesn’t ignore me?
But as I get to my feet, something catches my eye through the large front windows of the restaurant. I’ll be damned if it isn’t Hannah, power-walking her way the hell out of here.
She isn’t hiding. She’s bolting.
A strange mix of amusement and genuine worry hits me as I watch her disappear down the sidewalk. Most women would have picked a fight or demanded an explanation.
She’s not most women. I’m starting to realize she isn’t going to make anything easy on me.
And honestly? I prefer it that way.