Stratton Lee
Mark my words,Dahlia was going to be the death of me.
I shook my head, following her on my bike as the humid night air blasted across my hoodie, making me wish I had worn something lighter At least I hadn’t forgotten my goddamn helmet this time—I swear, Dahlia would have killed me yesterday if she hadn’t already been so upset with me. Was it wrong that I loved how much she worried about me? Probably.
I frowned, knowing I needed to start keeping the helmet I bought for Dahlia with me, because even watching her drive was making me a nervous wreck. She wasn’t a bad driver at all, but I preferred her in a controlled environment when it came to her safety. Like on the back of my bike. Maybe I needed to consider getting another car. One that was safer so that when we went places… I needed to stop myself.
The woman was clearly driving me to the point of madness. Not that that was anything new. She had always had that type of effect on me.An irrational one.
I couldn’t believe she had gotten in her hundred thousand dollar car and drove out to the goddamn quarry to see my fight. After I told her not to. After I told her to stay away from me. The woman was so goddamn stubborn, and of course I found that more attractive than anything else, which showed that there was something severely wrong with me.
Despite the fear of seeing her jostled around in the crowd, I’d felt a surge of motivation, knocking the bastard I was fighting out just so I could get to her. The cold rage that I normally felt had been replaced almost instantly by the overwhelming desire to not only have Dahlia by my side but to keep her protected. I knew that I was failing in most regards after tonight, and that was just a loss I was going to have to handle.
I had tried so hard to be a good guy.
To be truthful with her. To keep my distance. To explainwhyI would never be good enough. All while I suffered in silence, needing her with a fucking irrational lust, to just feel her in my arms. To feel her lips against my own. For years, fucking years, I’d felt this way, and yet when I expressed all of this to her, warned her… she just didn’t care.
She didn’t care what I thought was best, and it had me wanting to take her over my goddamn knee and punish her for being so fucking reckless. It also made me want to get down on my knees and wrap my arms around her, begging her to say that she really meant what she had slipped out earlier. That she loved me.
Her bright green gaze, almost a jade shade, had pinned me with a frustrated expression as she told me flat out that nothing I had said changed her opinion of me. Her feelings about me. Feelings that I couldn’t even process, let alone express myself, considering it would probably come out in a blurted, awkward jumble.
But fine. I sure as hell wasn’t going to give her up now, and I was probably going to take anything she was willing to give me. I had tried so hard, for so long, that I felt weak in the presence of her determination and insistence. I couldn’t fight this any longer. I needed her, and if she wanted to fight against my best intentions, I would be all too happy to make it easy on her.
I just hoped she realized what she had started. Most days I felt like the luckiest sonofabitch alive to even be living next to her, just getting to see her every damn day, so the idea of getting to kiss and touch her… it was overwhelming. It was also far more like my ideal paradise than I would ever admit.
As we made the turn towards Wildberry Lane, I fought back the memory of seeing her in the grocery store yesterday morning, the guilt of the entire situation making the air around me thicken as I tried to breathe through it. I knew I had been trying to do what I assumed was the right thing, but all I had done was fuck up. Now I was in the touchy position of figuring out how to protect her from the people I knew who would go after her. She had forced my hand, and now I couldn’t leave her alone. I had to keep her safe, because mark my words, they would know by tonight that I’d been bullshitting in the store.
The bastards shouldn’t have even been there. I hadn’t been lying to her—those men were dangerous. Not the most dangerous out of all the possible options, but I knew who they reported to. The Denim Moths were a motorcycle gang from two towns over with a reputation for bringing narcotics across town lines and operating a prostitution ring in the city. I knew that they had probably been in town selling, especially since they were so low down in the chain, but there was an equal possibility they were trying to figure out a way to distract me.
Especially considering I kept beating the absolute shit out of the men they sent to fight. I also knew it bothered them that I had rejected their offer to ‘join’ their group time and time again. I hadn’t been rude about it, but I had also made it clear that I didn’t have time for that shit.
They also were well aware that despite where I lived, I was broke. In fact, they were probably the only people I reiterated it to so that they didn’t think they could use me for financial gain. If I had that ability, I wouldn’t have been in that damn ring to begin with. At least, not every other goddamn night.
That place was a cesspool.
They were greedy bastards, though, so if they saw Dahlia as a way to distract me and make me lose, then I had no doubt they would put her in danger. They also may find a way to successfully cut off my ability to make any significant amount of money if I had to stop going there.
Fuck.
I had no idea how to handle this bullshit.
I wish I could tell you that my concern was strong enough to push her away.
It wasn’t, and when I had seen the tears in her eyes as she fled from the store, I’d known she had heard the line of bull I’d fed them. If anyone was following or being needy, it was me after her. I was just so tired of trying to keep my distance, and my last stand had been telling her that I couldn’t be with her, be her friend or anything else, in her bedroom. I’d been so desperate to apologize and beg her to forgive me. To tell her how I loved her.
When I’d left, it had taken all my strength.
I had no excuse for sleeping in her bedroom last night. There was a broken part of my psyche that would always associate Dahlia with the comfort that she provided after I’d lost both my parents at such a young age. I could remember the sensation of her arms wrapped around me as I laid there sobbing in the dark, not understanding how they were just gone.
Day after day, I had started to associate my healing with her. Which was probably when I not only realized I loved her, but that I would forever be chasing after her.
After tossing and turning last night, I’d climbed up to her room, pissed she had left her balcony doors unlocked but feeling lucky that I could sneak in and sleep on the couch. Not only keeping my eye on her but also basking in her presence. I had nearly joined her in bed, but when the dawn light had broken across the room, I’d woken and stared at her like a total creep until she started stirring.
I should have told her that I’d been there, but I didn’t want to scare her. Something told me it may freak her out.
Letting out a small grunt, I realized that there were some overdue discussions that needed to be had. I wasn’t dumb—if I wanted to have Dahlia in my life, I knew without a doubt that I would have to talk to King and explain to my best friend why I’d been such a goddamn bastard. I knew they were pissed, and I deserved that.
I just had to figure out how I was going to explain to them that I was not only broke but that I was attempting to fix a problem that I hadn’t created. Shame washed over me as I let out a tired sigh, rolling through the gates that opened to let both of us through. I nearly rolled my eyes, seeing Kingston standing in the middle of the cul-de-sac with Yates, the twins, and his cousin.