“Nope, sure don’t.”
“All right, cut the bullshit, Cinderella. The fuck’s going on?”
“How should I know? My Ol’ Man.” She makes quotation marks in the air as she says Ol’ Man. “Doesn’t tell me anything. I’m just a good little woman, fucking him like I’m supposed to. Guess it makes me the stupid one for thinking we actually had something real.”
Pointing my finger close to her face, I warn, “First off, don’t you disrespect that title. You’ll get a lot of fucking respect you deserve to have from my name being the one attached to it. Second, I don’t have any idea what the hell you’re talking about. Last night I thought we were straight when you fell asleep. Unless something went down while I was passed out, then shit’s still real.”
Her gaze lands on the door, and she huffs, “I need to leave,” trying to shut me out.
“You can go once we settle this.”
“Oh, can I? That’s so kind of you. Biker or whoever, you’re not my boss and if I want to climb in my car and drive away, then I will.” Her stubborn eyes meet mine as she crosses her arms over her chest defiantly.
She’s so damn cute, wound up like this.
Smirking, I let out a cocky chuckle, “Baby, if I want you to stay somewhere, you will. You try getting in that car before I say it’s okay, and I’ll slit your fucking tires.”
“You’re infuriating. I’ll walk if I have to.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll be damned if my woman’s walking down that highway. I’ll tie you to the bed and eat that pussy until you beg me to let you stay.”
“You are pretty talented with that tongue; good to know you don’t only use it for lying.”
Her retort confuses me. Why would I lie? And about what?
It takes a few seconds until I realize why she’s so angry.
“You’re pissy ‘cause I didn’t tell you about my father.”
“You’re not just some Nomad for the Oath Keepers; you have your own freaking club!”
“You’re wrong. That’s not my fucking club. I haven’t been a Widow Maker in years, and I’ll never be again.”
Her hands fly up, drastically as she rolls her eyes, “And that name! A widow maker? Yeah, I’d definitely have that on my cut; it sure is something to brag about. I can’t believe you haven’t told me. Look at the danger you put me in. You kept your past from me, and it almost got me killed. You could have at least told me so I would’ve been on the lookout.”
“You were in the wrong situation, and I’m real sorry about that Princess, but you were never in any danger.”
“Look at my arms!” she exclaims, thrusting them out, showing off the ugly bruises my father gave her. “You haven’t even seen the cut between my boobs yet. Thank God it wasn’t deep!”
My hand goes to her heart, a little rougher than intended and her wide eyes meet mine. “You fuckin’ feel that?” Growling angrily, I put pressure on the top of her breast, driving her backward until she hits the wall. “That’s your goddamn heartbeat, thumping away. I came for you; I got there as fast as fucking possible, and I killed as many motherfuckers as I had to, to get to you. Don’t you tell me that you’re hurt unless you’re sure you absolutely fucking mean it.” And she’s wrong; I did see that cut.
Her chest heaves as she gets worked up. “You did save me,” she admits quietly, “but you rescued me from your own family that I should have known about.”
Sighing deeply, my other hand rakes through my hair, pulling at it in frustration. “I know I fucked up, but you kept your shit from me too.” My palm slides over the shirt, stopping at the base of her throat.
“I-I couldn’t talk about him to you,” she finishes on a whisper, her eyes cresting with tears.
“Yeah, babe, you could. Believe it or not, I do listen to you. I know what it’s like to have hate consuming your heart because of fucked-up circumstances.”
“He respects you, I could tell. You’re angry that I didn’t confess, but you already knew who he was to me, didn’t you?”
Nodding, I watch as a tear falls down her cheek, then a second, and another, until I can’t take them anymore and use my thumbs to wipe her cheeks, wanting her tears to dry. “Shhhh, calm down, everything’s all right.”
“But it’s not.” Her lip wiggles as her tears come full force, and I drag her into my arms, holding her tightly to my chest.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“You’ll hate me,” she replies, her voice muffled by my shirt.