Chapter 14 #3
“Hi,” Sloane says, a little shy and uncertain, but she shakes that off. “I’m just getting the water started.” Her eyes travel to Raiden. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. It’s not fancy, but it’ll be hot, and ready in fifteen minutes.”
I expect him to decline, but he smiles. “Sure. Thanks.”
Liam doesn’t even bother to sit down and wait until dinner.
He rushes over to Sloane, hugs her hard, and explodes with the news.
“Mom! Wizard and Maverick told Tyrant and Raiden that they’ve been through just about all the communications that they can find, going back months and months, and there’s nothing that indicates that anyone knows that I saw anything.
They got into the security footage for that nightclub, and I was never on the cameras in the hallway.
It was so shadowy, they were pretty much just there pointlessly.
They didn’t record much from the angles and the height they were set at.
” Liam hangs onto Sloane’s hand but turns all that elation to me.
“You’re free to go home, Cruz. Tonight. But stay for dinner, obviously. ”
“Obviously.” I try for sarcasm, but my voice comes out wet and wrong.
Sloane’s expression is too full of emotion to pick anything out.
I can’t tell if she’s elated for Liam and sad to see me go, or if she’s still uncertain and doubtful about the danger, erring on the side of caution.
She does sweep a grateful look in Raiden’s direction as he pulls out the chair across from me.
“Thank you,” Sloane breathes. “For everything you and your club have done for us. I’m so grateful.”
“The meatballs,” Liam chides, laughing. He looks like he could hit the ceiling, he’s so fucking pumped about this news.
Me too. Obviously. I should be. I am. I have every right to be conflicted.
Sloane gets the meatballs from the fridge freezer and hands them to Liam to toss into a pan to simmer.
If she’s thinking that with me gone, her brain will reset itself and temptation will be removed and everything will get patched up and go back to her version of normal, and she’s relieved that it won’t include me and the mess that I’ll inevitably bring being Liam’s friend and us being part of the club together—maybe I don’t want to be conflicted.
Maybe what I want to feel is a whole lot of nothing.
No, what I really want is to give Sloane a hug. To hold her in my arms and reinforce that I won’t ever let anything bad happen to her.
I want that same hug in return. I’ve never been held that way.
Fucking gangs. Fucking life. Fucking universe trying to fuck with me when I’ve been through enough fuckery already.
I won’t be able to talk to Sloane tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either. She might want time. Space. It could be a good thing or a bad thing, but either way, I’ll just have to get real about it and deal. Sloane deserves everything. She’s worth respecting and she’s worth waiting for.
And just because my time here is at an end officially, doesn’t mean that I’ll ever be done protecting her.
I wish I could tell her, but she’s back at the stove, working side by side with Liam, humming happily while he recounts his day at the garage. To them, this is the best news. This is freedom. This is sheer unguarded happiness.
I think so, until she angles slightly and gazes at me discreetly over her shoulder.
Our eyes clash in a storm that I’m shocked doesn’t blow Raiden and Liam halfway across the kitchen.
My heart shudders and an answering shiver raises the hair on my arms. While she’s happy, she’s not radiant like Liam.
Relieved, yes, but there’s a shadow to her posture, a weight on her shoulders that hasn’t lifted.
I don’t want it to be me. I don’t want to be a burden or a worry, causing her guilt and anxiety.
She blinks and there’s none of that there so much as there’s naked longing.
She doesn’t look like a woman who is finished with me.
There’s a silent apology in her eyes that I feel all the way down to the bottom of my soul.
She turns back to the stove, and I study the table so that Raiden can’t read anything that might be on my face.
He’s a great guy. Younger than me by five or six years, and born and raised in Hart, same as Tyrant.
They’re living proof that wisdom doesn’t necessarily have to come with being old.
I think Tyrant was born with one of the oldest souls there ever was.
Mostly, I’m afraid that Raiden will see the unrestrained longing in my own expression.
This isn’t about wanting. Not for me and not for Sloane.
That might be a small fraction of it, but it’s so much more.
Sloane has to let herself want. She holds her control tightly around herself, but not because she’s afraid to let it go.
She just doesn’t want to drop it and have the fallout affect the people she loves.
When does putting others first become a detriment to yourself?
I don’t have an easy answer for that, or any of this.
I might not be able to tell Sloane what’s in my heart and mind tonight, but when the time is right, I’ll find the words. I hope.