Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
SADIE
R owan pulled the Harley into his driveway and kicked the stand down. Before he’d even killed the engine, I scrambled off the bike and yanked the helmet from my head. Heat engulfed my entire body, and I sucked in breath after breath. It did nothing to control the way my legs trembled beneath me.
He’d just claimed me. In. Front. Of. Everyone.
Was he kidding me?
Anger and hormones were locked in a death match, and the hormones were cheating. That still didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed.
He finally cut the engine and swung his leg over the seat. He leaned against the bike like he had all night, all week, all year—arms crossed, jaw loose, cool as sin while I stood there unravelling. The silence engulfed us, the night noises from the bush at the back of our houses the only sound.
I launched the helmet at him, slamming it into his chest with as much force as I could muster. It hit with a dull thud, but Rowan didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. All he did was smirk like this was all some big joke, his large hands wrapping around the edges.
Even the moon was mocking me. It cast just enough light to catch the spark in his eyes and the sharp curve of his cheekbones. Stupid, good-looking bastard.
“You can glare at me all you like, Firefly,” he said, planting the helmet on the seat behind him without turning. “Doesn’t change a thing. You need to stay away from all of this—Snake, the clubhouse, the mess you’re walking into.”
Really? He was going to use his nickname for me during this time of . . . whatever it was?
“Seriously? You still aren’t going to help me?” I rubbed my eyes. “You’ve completely lost it. I had Snake wrapped around my finger until you decided to play caveman.” My voice trembled, that crack betraying the anger I was trying so hard to hide behind. But who was I kidding? I was a complete mess.
Rowan stared, those damn honey-coloured eyes of his peeling back every lie I tried to tell myself. “I’m keeping you safe,” he said, running a hand through his hair, the loose curls falling back over his forehead.
Bloody hell. I just wanted to run my hands through it and tug his lips to mine again. Why? Why did he kiss me? He was blowing up the fragile peace I’d barely managed to scrape together.
His Harley glinted in the moonlight behind him, the night closing in around us. The phantom press of his lips still lingered on mine like a bruise. Only this time it was a bruise I didn’t want to fade. Not that I would have admitted that to him out loud. Especially not now.
So much for keeping me at arm’s length. He’d just wrapped me up in a pretty red bow and dropped me centre stage for everyone to glare at. Never thought I’d see the day where I became Rowan Knight’s old lady. I cringed at the term of endearment, but it’s what had stuck for years.
His plan was reckless. Bold. What got people hurt. Or worse. Maybe even more dangerous than bluffing Snake with nothing but an attitude and a fake smile. It left me dizzy, vulnerable.
I wanted to scream at him, tell him he didn’t have the right to decide what was safe for me.
I’d been on my own for six years, and he didn’t get to claim I was his like no time had passed between us.
Who was I to argue? We were playing pretend, but my heart hadn’t received the memo.
It still beat just for him like he’d hung the goddamn moon, and some pathetic part of me was throwing pom-poms, because somewhere deep down, I’d always wanted to be his.
Worst of all, though, was the fact I had no idea what being someone’s old lady even meant. Did I have to be at meetings? Cook dinner for a crew of bikers every night? I almost scoffed. That was never going to happen, so how the hell were we going to make this . . . fake relationship work?
Had Rowan even thought about that before he sucked my soul from my body with one single—but toe curling—kiss?
He stepped away from the bike, close enough to taunt me, but just out of reach like he knew I was itching to land a punch. God, I wanted to.
“Sadie.” My name on his lips sent a shiver racing over me, and I hated how much that one word could affect me.
I shook my head. “Just stay out of my head, Rowan. I’ve already made that mistake once.” I turned away, forcing my legs to move when all I wanted was to bolt, to sprint until the burn in my chest drowned out his voice.
The night felt thicker than it had minutes ago, like even the shadows were creeping closer just to listen. I kept moving, the gravel crunching under my black ankle boots, the same way it had when I made a run for it all those years ago.
I kept my eyes on my front door, but my mind kept circling back to that damn kiss.
To the way his lips moulded to mine perfectly.
To the way he’d crashed through every wall I’d built up over the years.
I wanted to pretend it didn’t mean anything, that it didn’t turn everything I felt for him into a jumbled mess.
But that lie fell flat before it even formed.
“I’ve been back a week,” I shouted over my shoulder. “And you’re already turning everything upside down like you never stopped. Stop screwing with my life.”
“Trying to keep you in it,” he called back, like the smug bastard he was. “Think you can handle that?”
A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. My fists clenched and unclenched. “You’re such an arsehole.” I wanted to throw more words at him like stones, but my voice caught in my throat.
He lifted a shoulder. “Never said I wasn’t.” He continued to stand there, and the distance between us stretched further.
It hurt like hell. Worse than I thought it would. Part of me wanted to close it, to give in to him, to feel his lips against mine again.
It was only a matter of time before I allowed myself to remember how in love I was with Rowan—still was. I’d just buried it so deep down, it was only now crawling its way up from the baggage I’d dumped on top of it.
The old lady pretence was supposed to protect me, but I knew better. Nothing about this place was safe, even with Rowan standing right by my side. Didn’t matter, though. I was still on my own with the mess Logan had made for me.
I paused at the front door, glancing towards Rowan. He was a stubborn figure in the dark. My pulse quickened. A thousand emotions clawed at me, suffocating me in the shadows and doubt.
Exhaling sharply, I slipped inside my house, and closed the door softly, leaning against it for a moment, breathing hard. The overhead light snapped on. My heart shot into my throat, and I stumbled back like someone had pulled a trigger in my head.
Dad sat in the living room, his face unreadable as shadows cut across his features.
“Jesus Christ, Dad,” I said, letting my hand fall to my side. “You scared the crap out of me.”
He was in the same spot he had parked himself in when I got in too late as a teenager, arms crossed and waiting for me to screw up. I never understood why he bothered, considering the only people I ever hung around were Logan and Jasmine.
What sort of shit did he think I’d find in a town like Barrenridge, with dead-end streets and crickets for company? What was he expecting now? An explanation? An apology for why I was coming in so late, hair whipped by the wind, lips still burning from Rowan’s ever-so-protective claim?
He’d need to hold his breath a little longer if he thought he was getting either of those things. I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I didn’t owe him curfews, excuses, or apologies for a life he hadn’t been part of for years.
I could feel it brewing in him—the shift from disappointment to interrogation. I almost walked past, certain he’d keep up the silence he’d mastered years ago . . . but then his voice pierced the air.
“What was that all about?” His tone was as invasive as ever. He rested his beer bottle on the arm of the faded chair, like he had all the time in the world to interrogate me. “Why is Rowan bringing you home?”
I shook my head. His questions always made me feel like a suspect—a stranger. “Nothing,” I said, dismissing him as I hurried past.
No way in hell was I going to tell him anything, especially not about the kiss. The news would spread soon enough, and I was going to enjoy my freedom for a few more hours.
“Sadie! Get back here.” His voice chased me down, sharp enough to cut, just like it always did when he realised I’d stopped listening.
I stopped in the kitchen. The overhead light flickered, my shadow stretching across the linoleum. The fridge kicked on, its low buzz the only witness to what was coming. What I should have done was kept walking, but the pull of his voice and the frustration in it held me captive.
Same tactics, same silence, same bullshit. It took everything in me to turn around and face the wrath of my father. I tilted my head back and stared up at the ceiling, a sigh escaping before I backtracked into the living room. He needed to know one thing. That I couldn’t be controlled.
“What?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “He’s not good enough for you?”
Dad always had judged Rowan, even when we were kids. Always said there was something about him he didn’t like. But I knew that had more to do with Dad than it did Rowan.
Dad clenched his jaw so hard I thought he’d crack his teeth. “I don’t want you hanging around him. The Ridge Riders . . . they aren’t people you should be associating with.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes burning into me with that authority he thought had some control over me.
Dad wasn’t just talking about Rowan. The Riders had something on him, too.
I crossed my arms, but it wasn’t to shield myself. More to stop from driving my fist through a wall. “Why not? Jasmine works at the clubhouse. I was there with her. Rowan offered to give me a ride home.” The words flew out.