Or tried to.
Then there it was, without warning. An attack. The memory of her. Of something they didn’t have. The sex was good with her. Brilliant, in fact. But she was tiny. So fucking tiny and so fucking sweet, he was terrified he’d break her half the time. So he held back. He’d never shown her what lay deep down. The desires that he had been happy to suppress, for a lifetime with her. He didn’t have to do that with Mia. Hold back. He lost complete control when he fucked her, with a brutality he didn’t think any woman could handle. But she did. She loved every fuckin’ minute of it.
He shook his head, feeling more pissed than ever. He needed to stop thinking that shit. ‘Specially needed to stop thinking of her. If he didn’t he’d be going down a road even darker than the one he was already on. The road they said was paved with good intentions. He definitely needed to scrape Mia off. Bitch was messing with his brain even though he said it was only sex. It was more. He fucking knew it. She was getting under his skin. He needed to stop it. And soon.
Bull finished working for the day, and instead of going to the clubhouse and drowning his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey like he should have, he went home. He started working on his bike, to keep his hands busy, his mind busy. The garage door stayed open out of some sort of self-flagellation. There it was. Her place. Right there. The urge to go over there, to see her again, to fuck her again, to fuckin’ apologize was so strong he actually caught himself getting up a couple of times. Christ, he didn’t only want to fuck her. He wanted to talk to her. He never wanted to talk to anyone. Not even his brothers could hold an extended conversation with him. Even with Gwen he mostly just listened. But with Mia he wanted to talk. The woman was funny. Hilarious even. She never fuckin’ shut up. Even when she was spittin’ mad she babbled. Fuckin’ panty payments.
On that thought, the sounds of laughter carried across the street. Male laughter. Bull narrowed his eyes at the now open garage door directly across from him. Lexie was grinning at a couple of guys who were carrying rucksacks, one with a guitar case. One actually hugged her as she walked out with them to a car at the curb. Bull restrained the urge to go over and rip the little fucker’s head off. He watched as the shitheads piled into a car and drove off. Lucky for them.
Lexie’s eyes traveled with the car and then settled on him.
“Zane!” she called on a grin and started to run over.
Fuck.
She ran right into his garage, right up to his bike with a grin. No fear, no hesitation, just an easy smile. He wasn’t used to that. People approaching him with a smile devoid of fear, devoid of judgment.
“Hey, Zane,” she greeted, slightly breathless.
“Lex,” he nodded, unable to only give her a nonverbal nod as was his custom.
“I hope the noise didn’t disturb you—we tried to put some soundproofing up, you know, as to not brass off the neighbors, but I’m not sure how effective it is,” she babbled, chewing her lip. “Mom can still hear us from in the kitchen. I know because she texted me a draft of my Grammy acceptance speech.” She gave me a worried look. “As a joke,” she quickly added. “We’re only a high school band—we aren’t even that good yet, but Mom’s delusions have us set for stardom.”
Bull had trouble taking this all in. “A band?” he ground out.
Lexie nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing. She played with the handlebar of his bike. Normally this would get him riled and ready to punch anyone touching his bike. But not her.
“Yeah, you see those guys leaving before?”
Bull nodded tightly.
“That’s my band!” She frowned slightly. “We still have to think of a name. It’s kind of a sticking point between the guys,” she shrugged, “creative minds and all that.”
That’s who those fuckers were? Bandmates? Jesus. He’d have to have a little talk with the nitwits, make sure they got no fuckin’ ideas about inter-band relations.
Lexie had abandoned the perusal of his bike and was now wandering around his garage.
“You should come and listen to us once we get a little better,” she added over her shoulder. “Or maybe once we get our first gig.” She paused. “Hey!” she called in an excited voice. “I didn’t know you played!”
Bull followed her eyes to the guitar resting in the corner of the room, lying half-abandoned in its dusty case.
“Long time ago,” he said quickly, battling with the memories attached to it. The demons.
Lexie gave him a shy smile. “You should come and play with me.” She hesitated. “Maybe you could even teach me some things.” Her hand trailed along the faded case, dust sliding off. “Mom couldn’t afford to get me regular lessons, especially after she bought me my guitar, so I’ve mostly taught myself. YouTube’s great, but it would be so cool to learn off a real life human being,” she finished quietly.
Bull’s stomach clenched. No fuckin’ way. He could barely look at that thing, let alone touch it again. That was the only reason it sat in a forgotten corner of his garage and not a trash pit. He couldn’t physically put his hands on the thing. No fuckin’ way was he getting it out to play fuckin’ teacher to a teenager.
“Yeah, kid, all right. Maybe,” he heard himself saying. He had no clue why he said it. Maybe it was the thought of Mia struggling to give her daughter something she obviously loved. Something she obviously lived for. And then that daughter being smart enough and dedicated enough to teach herself. Maybe he had finally dropped off the fuckin’ deep end. But the light in the grin that lit up Lexie’s face because of him…that’s what settled in his gut, chasing away the poison that usually resided there.