But she’d always been one to go for a man who was more tarnished.
And look where that had gotten her? Girlfriend of an asshole gangbanger by the time she was seventeen. Passed around to his friends like some kind of live sex toy. Drugged-out and a hot fucking mess.
Once Mark literally dragged her wasted ass away from that life and cleaned her up, she’d vowed to never make those mistakes again. To never be led around by lust, hormones, and anger. So, she steered clear of anything resembling a bad boy. And now she was coasting along in a bland, boring relationship with a man who didn’t really know her. Not deep down.
Not his fault.
She’d hid herself from him. Hell, she hid herself from herself the past few years. And now she had the opportunity to rediscover who she was over the next six weeks. To really determine what she wanted to get out of her life. An opportunity she couldn’t pass up.
“You’re a city girl, Toni.” He waved his hand around as though the beautiful nature around them was a steaming pile of garbage. “You wear J Crew, drink cosmopolitans, and get your nails done every two weeks. You do not belong here in hick town.”
Was this guy for real? “Wow, Chris. Snobby much? That’s me, huh? Summed up in three insignificant details.”
With a snort, Chris threw his arms in the air and paced the length of the porch. “That was just an example. You’re different here. Look at your outfit for God’s sake. Your pockets are longer than your shorts. I’ve seen the little sluts at your school wearing the same outfits.”
Toni’s blood was a few degrees from boiling. “You did not just call me a slut,” she shouted.
From opposite sides of the porch, they stared at each other. Toni tried to steady her breathing, tried to calm her anger, but it wasn’t working. This was a side of Chris she hadn’t known existed. She’d never slapped anyone before, but there was a first time for everything.
Chris on the other hand deescalated much faster. After stuffing his hands in his pockets, he focused on the setting sun before facing her. “Look, I have to go back to Chicago tonight because I have a deposition in the morning. I don’t want to fight with you. You’re grieving over your parents’ deaths and you’re lost right now. How about this, you stay here this week and I’ll fly back out on the weekend. We can sort everything out then.”
Such a sensible, rational, adult way of handling their conflict when Toni wanted to rant and rave at him. Maybe being back in her hometown was throwing her off her game.
Not off enough that she didn’t realize this relationship was quickly coming to an end.
Instead of reacting on instinct and emotion, she dropped her hands from her hips and rolled her shoulders. Tension had her upper back muscles protesting the movement. “Maybe we should take a break,” she said.
Chris nodded. “I’ll go back, and we’ll talk next week after we’ve each had some breathing room, okay?”
She could try that, but would she feel different in a week? Probably not. Really, she shouldn’t have been with him in the first place. He’d have every right to be pissed at her. In a way, she’d used him. Not with poor intentions, but to try to wedge herself into a specific kind of life. A life that didn’t seem to fit who she was, unfortunately. Maybe she just needed to steer clear of relationships altogether.
“No. I mean break like break up. I don’t think this is going to work, Chris.”
His face fell, and guilt hit her hard. Just because he wasn’t for her, didn’t mean he was a crappy boyfriend. And if the look on his face was any indication, he was crushed by her declaration.
Townsend was screwing with her head, big time. Perhaps this wasn’t the time to make a decision about the fate of her relationship, but even though she felt guilty about hurting Chris, it felt right.
~ ~ ~ ~
Zach splashed cold water on his overheated face, then braced his hands on the sides of the sink. He let his head drop down as his breathing slowly returned to normal. For the past hour, he’d pounded the heavy bag like the sack of sand personally disrespected him and everyone he gave a shit about.
If the throb in his shoulder wasn’t enough of an indication he’d overdone it, the ache in his knuckles was.
Fucking gangbangers.
The club’s board was meeting in two hours and Zach had bad news for Copper. Bad news for the entire club. Shit news, really.
As enforcer for the Hell’s Handlers MC, Zach had contacts with MC’s, gangs, a few dirty cops, and various lowlifes for hundreds of miles around. He’d collected quite a few favors over time and made sure everyone knew not to fuck with him or his MC. For years, they’d run their club and conducted business without competition or threat of a turf war.