I watched her walk outside in the morning sun. There were so many things I wanted to say to her. She needed words of encouragement, love, anything except my silence.
She was perfect.
And what did I go and do?
Not a fucking thing.
God, I was such a fucking idiot.
How hard would it have been to just say what I really felt? They were just words. Words she needed to hear. Yet, I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t say the words unless I actually felt them. I wouldn’t lie to her.
Did I like her? Fuck yeah.
Was she great in bed? The best!
Did I want to spend more time with her? Yep, every chance I could get.
But did I love her? Fuck if I knew!
I’d never been in love before. How the hell was I supposed to know what love felt like. I knew I didn’t love Mia, and that didn’t stop me from marrying her, so why did this feel different? Why did I feel an ache in my chest when it came to Ari? Why did seeing her upset bother me so much?
Grabbing my cup of coffee, I went to head out after her when Massacre stopped me. “Give her a few minutes.”
“Why?”
“Just because. Now, sit down and drink your coffee. I’ll go check on her. Seeing you may not end well for you.”
Doing as he suggested, I sat. Though I wish it were anywhere else because the people looking at me now only had one thing on their mind…murder.
They wanted me dead.
I know I fucked up.
I didn’t think my mistake deserved violence.
However, when I snuck a peek at Roxy, I was glad Moonshine had his arms wrapped around her because I knew if she could get to me, she would claw out my heart.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“GHOST!” Massacre shouted. Running outside, I stopped dead in my tracks as I watched Massacre drag a brother from the tree line. “Help me! It’s Bullseye!”
Coming out of my stupor, I ran to help Massacre with our brother. Getting him up on his feet, we dragged him past several brothers and inside, where Roxy had somehow quickly cleared the table.
“Lay him down,” she ordered, then shouted. “Needle! Grab the bags!”
Doing as she directed, Massacre and I laid Bullseye down on the table. Grabbing his face, I tried to wake him. “Bullseye? Come on, man, wake the fuck up.”
His eyes opened the second before he quickly sat up, swing at anything and everything. It took several of us to subdue him. When we had him back on the table, I asked. “Bullseye, what happened, man?”
“Saw him.”
“Saw who?”