Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC) (23 page)

People may seem understanding, like they want to help. Talk. But once I unveiled the truth, the ugly, vile truth, there wouldn’t be any understanding. There wouldn’t be anyone there to help.

“Whatever you say, big guy,” I muttered, hiding behind sarcasm.

I went to get out of the truck, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

“I don’t want to put this on you. Understand you’ve got your reasons why you’re doing this, but he’s my brother,” he started, and my body stiffened. “He’s fucked-up, babe. It’s tearing him apart, not being able to see you. Help you.”

I laughed, a bitter, ugly sound. “That’s where he’s wrong. He can’t help me. The best thing he can do for both of us is forget me. The best thing I can do for him is to make him forget me,” I told him coldly. I jerked my shoulder out of his grasp, jumping out the door before he could tear any more of my wounds wide open.

Because I had so hastily gotten out and slammed the door, I didn’t hear what he muttered while he watched me storm into Lily’s house.

“Problem is he’ll never forget you.”

* * *

“
B
ex
,” Lily yelled from the kitchen. “Do you want another piece of pie?”

“Do you even know me at all?” I yelled back, cradling my hot chocolate and staring at the waves.

Yes, hot chocolate. I was sipping it with a million marshmallows like I was a five-year-old. I would have loved a nice eight-dollar bottle of Pinot, but I didn’t think that was a good idea.

I heard someone enter the room, assuming it was Lily, I didn’t move my gaze from the perusal of the waves. “God, I hope one day I’ll have enough of a hold on this addiction beast that I’ll be able to indulge in cheap crappy wine,” I exclaimed. “If not, just shoot me now.”

“I think my wife and best friend may object to that course of action,” a deep voice answered.

I moved my sheepish glance to Asher, who was leaning on the doorframe of the conservatory of his and Lily’s home. The place I’d come to consider my home. The only one I’d ever had. Where Faith lived in the walls, her paintings, her energy still holding her life force, despite the fact she was gone.

Asher had been careful around me since everything, keeping his distance as if he sensed my reluctance to have strong and dangerous males in my presence. Even now, he stayed leaning against the door.

I tried my best for a jaunty grin. “Jeez, ever heard of sarcasm? It’d be valuable to learn the distinction. I’d hate to think of the amount of people you’ve shot unnecessarily.”

He shook his head, not smiling. Then his face turned even more serious. “I’m proud of you, Bex.”

I gaped at him. “Proud of me?”

He nodded, walking forward to the windows to regard the wild ocean like I had been before. “For still findin’ the ability to say shit like that. For figurin’ out a way not to run back to the easy way out, even though no one would blame you if you did.” He turned to face me. “For getting through.”

I blinked at him. “Your pride is a little premature. I’m not exactly ‘through’ yet. I’m barely past the starting line.”

“You’ll get there,” he said with certainty.

Before this could get any deeper and we stared braiding each other’s hair, Lily came through with plates. She eyed us both. “I’ve got pie,” she declared.

“Then I’ll totally marry you if you ever decide to leave your biker and jump the fence,” I deadpanned.

She grinned at me. “Sorry, I kind of like him.”

Asher moved to his wife, taking the plates and setting them down so he could yank her into his arms and kiss her hair.

It was like a fucking shampoo commercial, the two of them so attractive and shit.

“Yeah, I kind of like him too,” I muttered.

Asher let her go and gave me a small smile. “I’ll go and watch the game, let you girls talk about… girl shit,” he said.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Girl shit?” she asked dangerously.

He motioned to the living room. “I’m leaving before any blood is spilled.”

He left and I laughed. Some of it was even genuine.

I took the pie Lily handed me. “He’s totally scared of you. The big biker who most likely chews bullets for fun is totally scared of his little wife.”

She grinned at me, chewing the pie. “It’s how any marriage should be,” she declared sagely.

I wanted to grin back, but I’d used up all my faux happiness for the night.

“I want it,” I confessed.

Lily focused on me, her face soft. “What, honey?”

“Everything,” I whispered. “I want to have some dumb nickname that only one man calls me and it mean everything. I also want my own name and not be belittled by a stupid term of endearment. I want to give my everything to him at the same time as owning every part of myself. I want him to take care of me and I never want to entrust my own survival to anyone else.” I blinked away the tears. “I want to sleep without nightmares. Heck, I just want to
sleep
. An entire night. I’m so fucking tired. I want to embrace oblivion without the fear of my own mind, and I want to do it the only place I feel safe, next to him. But I also want to be able to sleep that entire night alone with my demons and find a way to conquer them myself.” A single tear trailed down the side of my face. “But most of all, I want him. Pure and simple. And I’d give anything I have or will have to feel worthy of him. To be able to have him without feeling dirty and tarnished when I have him.”

Lily blinked at me and moved forward like she wanted to hug me, but caught herself when she realized my body stiffened at the potential contact. “You’re not dirty. Or tarnished,” she declared fiercely. “You’re strong. You’re my best friend. And you’re not allowed to say things like that. Ever. Not when you’re wrong. I’m so effing proud of you, Bex. I know for a fact Mom would be too,” she choked out, her eyes glistening.

I swallowed. “You and your hubby have one mind or something?” I asked, trying to break the tension. I couldn’t deal with all the pride and inspirational talk.

She tilted her head, looking confused, but then her eyes focused on the doorway, going wide.

“If that’s the president coming to tell me how proud he is, can you tell him to come back tomorrow?” I asked, taking a bite of my pie.

There was silence and I turned.

Gabriel was leaning in the doorway, much like Asher had. But his posture wasn’t easy, relaxed. He was the stranger who had showed at my door a week ago. The one I dreamed of. The one I craved.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to choke out.

“You weren’t at home. Rosie said you were here. So I’m here,” he explained, his voice rough.

“That’s not an answer,” I snapped. “Did Gage tell you I was here?”

He stiffened. “No,” he said slowly. “How the fuck does Gage know you’re here?”

I sensed the danger in his voice. “He doesn’t,” I lied. “Why are you here?” I repeated.

“You’re here. I’m here. That’s the only answer I got,” he said. He glanced at Lily. “Can you give us a minute, squirt?”

She glanced to me in unease.

I resisted the urge to use her as a human shield. “I’m fine, babe,” I lied.

She furrowed her brows before getting up. “I’ll just be inside,” she said. “Watching the game or fighting with Asher over the remote.”

Then she was gone and it was just me and him. The second time… since. And it wasn’t any easier than the first. He was still hard to look at. Almost impossible.

But I managed. And because I made myself look, I finally realized what all this had done.

“I’ve stolen it from you,” I whispered.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Your happiness, your life. What you had before,” I croaked out. “Before me you were happy. Your life wasn’t…
tainted
by me—”

I stopped abruptly because he was no longer leaning against the door. He was there, right there, in my space, taking away whatever buffer distance had offered.

“Don’t need to hear any more of that, babe,” he growled, his eyes dark. “I was happy before,” he agreed, almost reluctantly, “but it was a hollow sort of happiness, like I was only living my life on the surface.” He swallowed. “That’s the only thing I could do. Going any deeper meant meeting my demons, and I was happy for them to be strangers till I died. Then I met you, found out what it was like to be filled up, how to go deeper. Since meeting you, I’ll admit, I’ve gone deep, so deep I didn’t think it’d be possible to get out. But you were always there, my firefly. My light.” His finger trailed along my jaw. I was frozen to move, yet the feeling of ice followed with his touch, exposing the dirt below. “I’d take our most miserable, darkest day together over a thousand of those happy ones I had alone,” he said. “Real happiness, the kind that penetrates right down to the core, that’s all coiled up in pain. In knowledge of how fuckin’ ruthless and unyielding the world can be. How it can be so full of pain you’re sure that’s all you’ll ever feel. Real happiness is comin’ out the other side of that and holding something beautiful in your arms. That’s you, babe. I wish to fuckin’ Christ that you didn’t have to go through what you did.” His eyes were haunted by the demons of my past. “I’d have taken it all from you in a second. But the only good thing that’s come of this nightmare is I get to feel real happiness. I get to hold on tight. And now that I know what happens if I don’t hold tight, I’m never fuckin’ letting go.”

His words, the closeness, all of it was too much. Way too fucking much. I pushed off the sofa and as far away from him as I could get.

“You’ve got to let go,” I told him. “Because I’m not chaining you down, dragging you into this. You don’t deserve that.”

“Fuck!” he yelled, and I jumped like I fucking scared squirrel. I hated that. Everything that took me by surprise, the fucking wind pushing trees against the window, made me jump. Fear, an almost unknown acquaintance
before
, was now a constant companion.

He saw it, sensed the way my body vibrated with the stupid emotion, and immediately his face gentled. He stepped forward but didn’t make to touch me. He’d learned about that.

“This isn’t your fault, Becky,” he murmured. “Jesus. The fact you’re dealin’ with this shit and laying all the blame on your fragile shoulders eats me up inside. You’re the victim—”

“Stop!” I screamed, my voice shrill. It was his time to react bodily to my words. Though it might not have been a full-on jump, there was a flinch. “I’m not that,” I hissed, leaning forward. “I’m not a fucking
victim
,” I spat the word. “I know that’s what you want me to be. Help this train wreck of a situation catalogue in your mind because if I’m a victim then you can be the hero. You have a purpose. To save me from the big bad wolf. To use that”—I nodded to his cut where I knew he had a gun underneath—“to exact revenge and save the victim. I’m not that. And you can’t fix me. I can’t give you purpose or let you sling me on the back of your Harley and ride off into the sunset. By calling me a victim you’re making me helpless. You’re taking away my power and giving yourself control over me, whether that’s your intention or not. I can’t be helpless. Not now, not ever again. Because that, that’ll kill me.” I’d petered down to a low whisper. “Do you know how much of an effort it is just to stand up? To physically hold my body upright? Not to sink to the floor and beg it to swallow me up? It takes everything I’ve got left. I’m not going to give in. I’m not giving them that power to hammer the final nail in my coffin. Because I’m not a fucking victim. I’m a survivor.” And on that note, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room.

He watched her leave. And it took every ounce of his considerable strength to stay rooted to that ground she said she wished would swallow her up.

Lucky’s heart threatened to smash through its cage. He swallowed roughly. He couldn’t go after her. Not now. Not if he wanted to keep her.

And fuck, did he want to keep her.

“I’m a survivor.”

He smiled. Someone who knew him well wouldn’t recognize such a smile on his face. One didn’t exist there until before her. Before her, his smiles were happy, naïve, empty. A concentrated observer would see this wasn’t empty. It was full. Of melancholy, anger, hurt. And love. Not the puppies and bunnies Hollywood love. The dark, gritty, heart-wrenching, blood-drenched kind. The one that either gave him a reason to fight for his next breath on the same earth she existed on, or welcome the embrace of death which had already taken her.

It wouldn’t. Not for a long fucking time if he had anything to say about it.

So he didn’t follow her. Didn’t make chase.

He wrenched his phone from his cut.

“Skid. You’re on Becky. Every fuckin’ minute, every fuckin’ second. If you so much as glance up to marvel at the starry night’s sky and make a wish on a shooting star, you’ll be burning up in flames just like one,” he growled.

He hung up, not waiting for a response.

Because he had another destination in mind. Another person to direct his anger at.