Hard to Love

by W Winters

I barely look over my shoulder when I hear a car pull up. “Fuck,” I murmur and roll my eyes when I see who it is.

  “What the hell is going on?” I can hear Seth freaking out before his door even shuts. The slam seems like an overreaction as it echoes down the street.

  My heart’s all sort of wonky. Hurting and flipping and full of distress. So much for not being a burden.

  “What the hell happened? You okay?” He’s staring between the bike and me. My legs that aren’t scratched, my elbows that aren’t bruised. He’s trying to figure it out, I know he is, but right now I can’t speak. How the hell did my bike get so damaged when I’m seemingly fine, although I’m sure it’s obvious I’ve been crying?

  “Babygirl,” he says and his voice is consoling as he cups my chin and then brushes away the remaining tears.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him and then I have to clear my throat. My voice is so raw. “I didn’t fall. I…”

  “She took a bat to it,” Cami finishes for me. She takes a seat on the stone steps to the porch, brushing her hands off on her pajamas. “Some guys tried to steal it and your girl lost it.”

  “What guys?” Seth’s voice turns stone cold.

  “Three assholes. Never seen them before.” Cami does all the talking, even though she pauses to look at me. I can’t look her in the eyes as my gaze drops.

  “You fuck them up?” Seth asks. His voice is even, low but even. He just wants to know; he’s not judging me. God, do I love this man. I shake my head in his hand and then move from his grasp. I don’t deserve him.

  Taking a deep inhale, I calm myself.

  “I just lost it,” I explain to him.

  “So you wrecked your bike?”

  “Better the bike than them, right?” I try to make it sound like a joke. He doesn’t think it’s funny though. There goes my gaze, back to the weeds in the cracks of the sidewalk.

  “I mean, you should have seen it,” Cami butts in before Seth can reply. I feel embarrassed, guilty, remorseful. My stomach churns and I feel sick. “I can guarantee you they think she’s crazy.”

  “You should have called me—”

  I cut Seth off. “They aren’t going to steal from me again.” Finally looking him in the eyes, I tell him, “They aren’t coming back here and taking things off porches again.”

  In my periphery, I can see Cami nodding, although her expression is solemn.

  “I handled it,” I say with finality.

  Seth shifts his weight, staring down at me. He feels very much like the judge, jury, and executioner right now. As if that’s what I need.

  “What would you do if someone stole your pen?” he asks me as Connor’s car pulls up behind Seth’s. I barely keep from rolling my eyes, knowing Seth must’ve called or messaged and told him to come. All because I’m a little messed up right now.

  “My pen?” I say, trying to remember what the question even was.

  “Like next time, say someone steals your pen. What are you going to do?”

  I imagine someone at the Club doing that. Not like they took it accidentally after signing their check. But deliberately taking from me… at the Club? No one would be that stupid.

  “There won’t be a next time,” I say and my voice holds an edge to it. Seth closes the distance between us with a few easy steps. Placing a hand on each of my forearms, he squeezes, consoling and relaxing.

  Pulling me in closer to him, he gentles his voice. “Just humor me. Say someone steals your pen, what are you going to do?”

  “Take it back.” He nods at my response but then I add, “And then stab the hand they took it with. I’d keep stabbing that hand with the same pen until there was nothing left of the pen anymore.”

  Seth’s eyes widen comically, but the Cheshire cat smile grows on his face even more. “You’re psycho, Babygirl.”

  “I’m joking. Ish.” The “ish” makes Cami laugh. The tension in the air seems to dissipate.

  Seth’s smirk widens to a grin and I give him a small smile in return.

  “Come here,” he says and holds me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I didn’t even realize how cold it was outside today until I feel how warm he is.

  “Next time, call me,” he whispers into my hair. “Please.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” I answer into his chest, breathing in his scent. The essence is fresh but masculine. And if I breathe in deeper, I can smell a hint of the cologne I got him for Christmas. I heard smell is the scent most likely to hold memories. With everything that’s happened while I’ve been at Seth’s side, you’d think they’d all be bad. Like the smell of him would bring me nothing but pain. It’s the opposite though. I feel safe, I feel cherished. I never want to forget the smell of him. I wish I could bottle it up and put it in an aromatherapy roller ball or something.

  “You’re adorable but fucking psycho, you know that?”

  I pull away at his comment. “What was I supposed to do? Let them steal my bike?”

  Any worry he had when he arrived has turned to a smile. “I would have gotten it back for you and made sure they knew never to do that shit again.”

  “Well you weren’t here, so I did it for you.” I stand on my tiptoes for a quick second to offer him a peck. Although the kiss is more for me than him, I think. “You’re welcome,” I add with a little more sass than I should have right now.

  “Mmm.” His groan is more than a turn-on and he grabs my ass before I can turn around and leave him like I planned on doing. Pinning me to him, he tells me, “I’m not done with you yet.”

  The spike of heat and want is immediate. A feeling of calm washes over me. I could stare into his soft blue eyes forever. Well, I can try. But when he leans down for another kiss, I close my own and let him press his lips to mine. He nips the bottom one and when I smile, he takes that as his cue to deepen the kiss. The embrace is heated and brings a singe of desire that overwhelms every other feeling.

  “My little hotheaded psycho,” he murmurs when he breaks the kiss, his lips still close to mine.

  “Stop,” I say and jokingly push him away, but both of us are smiling. “I’m not psycho,” I tell him and I finally roll my eyes, although of course it’s in response to my own statement. I really lost my shit. Over a bike. It’s just a bike.

  “Yeah, you are. I fucking love it, though.”

  There’s that word. Love. He didn’t say he loves me. Not quite, but it feels like he did.

  “You two need a room?” I hear Connor’s question laced with heavy sarcasm before I hear his footsteps stopping just behind Seth.

  “If I wind up dead in a gutter, she did it,” Seth tells Connor, not answering his question.

  “Oh, fuck off,” I tell him playfully as Seth laughs at my reaction. He’s good at soothing me, teasing me, working me up. He’s good at me. That’s the best way I can put it. Turning to look over my shoulder as I make my way up the steps, I tell Seth as they follow me into the house, “I’m going to leave long before I reach my breaking point with you.”

  Seth

  “You want to talk about it?” I ask her, watching her strip out of her clothes to get into the shower. She’s still in her old room in her grandma’s house, even though the master’s been cleared out.

  I get it, I do. I’ve stayed plenty of nights here and I know this is her place. It’s her safe spot. I get it.

  This room is just small. She’s got a twin-size bed and barely any room in here with her bulky dresser. She has to have the damn dresser because there are no closets in this old house.

  She wrinkles her nose at me, as if I’m pushing her too far. She’s the one always asking me to talk, though.

  “Is that a no, you don’t want to talk?”

  “No.” The way she eyes me before answering puts a smug look on my face. She’s not psycho, she’s defensive and scared. After everything that happened these last few years, she should be.

  “All right then,” I tell her and lean back in her bed, taking up the whole damn
thing as I stretch out my shoulders and stare at her ceiling fan. “What’d they look like?” I question her even though she’s not going to tell me. She doesn’t have to say a word though, because I told Connor to get the descriptions from Cami. I’ll figure it out and make sure they don’t ever make my girl feel like that again. She doesn’t have to know. She just needs to be safe.

  “I don’t remember,” she answers half-heartedly, shrugging her shoulders as she steps into the stream of the shower. With the bathroom door open, I’ve got a great view from where I’m lying.

  I think about talking louder over the running water, of pressing her again on whether or not she’s going to sell this place. It’s not the right time though. It’s never the right time with her.

  The house is in a rough part of town, every piece of it. From the staircase that creaks, to the trim that’s dented and stained, it’s all worn down, but the old home is sentimental. If she wants to keep it, we can. Shit, I’ll even fix it up. I want her with me though. In my house that she helped me build, that she furnished. I got that damn house for her.

  Isn’t that what compromise is?

  I’m debating about approaching the subject, when I turn over and see her family photo on the dresser. Her dad, her grandma, and her at some park when she was just a kid. I get that this house is all she’s got left of them. I swear I do. I just don’t like it.

  Now’s not the time, but I don’t know when it will be time though. Shit.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I listen to the water splashing and talk over it, raising my voice to make sure Laura can hear me.

  “You really shouldn’t pick fights.” I don’t tell her it scares me. I don’t tell anyone that anything scares me.

  “You can stop reprimanding me,” she calls out in a singsong voice after opening the sliding glass door to make sure I hear her response. The shower door closes and then opens again for her to add, “And I didn’t pick the fight, I finished it.”

  Her smart-ass mouth brings a warmth to my chest as I chuckle and run a hand down my face. She shouldn’t have to finish any fights. That’s the problem.

  It’s my fault for letting her stay here.

  Letting her. She hates that word.

  Now there’s a real fight to pick. Not tonight though. Not with everything going down.

  The creak of the faucet precedes the sound of the water stopping, the shower door sliding open and the pitter-patter of her bare feet in the bathroom.

  I watch her dry herself off, then wrap her hair up in the towel. All the while, I eye her curves. She takes her time rubbing lotion into her legs and I’m pretty sure she’s prolonging touching herself just to tease me.

  She dries her hair and lets the towel drop to the floor in a puddle at her feet. With one hand on either side of the threshold, she stands there butt naked, looking utterly fuckable. And then she speaks.

  “You don’t fuck with crazy.”

  Grabbing my hard cock through my jeans I tell her, “Speak for yourself.”

  She gives me a ridiculously gorgeous smile that’s infectious and tells me I’m awful before making her way to the bed.

  “Come here.” I give her the command even though she was already coming to me.

  She crawls up my body, slow and deliberate, but keeps her hair to the side since it’s still damp.

  “You really are impossible,” she tells me and she could be saying I’m her Prince Charming with the look she’s got in her eyes. I love the way she looks at me. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. No one other than her.

  “I don’t think you’ve got much room to talk,” I respond, wanting to bring up the situation again if for no other reason than to get her fine ass to move in with me and be safe.

  “When I said that, I meant no one wants to mess with a crazy person,” she explains. “That’s what my dad used to tell me. You never know what someone crazy is going to do. They could bite your nose off if you push them, you know? They’re crazy. So if you react like that, like you’ve lost your mind, no one’s going to want to mess with you. It’s not worth losing your nose over.”

  I have a hard time keeping a straight face; she’s serious as all hell right now. “So you were acting like you’re crazy? You were in full control the whole damn time?” I question her, letting my tone prove that I think what she’s saying is bullshit.

  Pursing her lips she thinks for a moment, looking past me. Instead of answering me, she says, “I didn’t pick the fight.” The humor and confidence are gone.

  “I know you didn’t,” I tell her with sincerity. Spearing my hand through her hair, I bring my lips to hers and kiss her. I nudge my nose against hers and whisper, “You did what you had to do.”

  “Exactly.” Both of her hands wrap around mine when she speaks. And I kiss her again, but she pulls away.

  “I have to get ready,” is the excuse she gives me. Her ass sways as she walks, tempting me even though she doesn’t seem interested.

  “You wanna?” I ask her, and when she turns to look at me with a hint of confusion, I thrust my hips in her direction.

  She only laughs before telling me no and saying I’m a shitty Romeo.

  “What if I kiss you here?” Getting on my knees at the edge of the bed so I can tower over her as she stands at the end of it, I suck her neck. I feel her thighs hit the edge of the bed and hear her moan before I plant a single kiss there and pull back.

  “You’re hot,” she tells me with a moan and smiles. “But I don’t want to be late, and you’re not getting laid right now. You should come up with something better while I’m getting dressed.”

  Damn it. I watch her walk away.

  “You know all my lines already,” I call out to her as she closes the bathroom door, leaving me with blue balls in her too-small bed. Even being shut down I’m smiling, because she’s all right and she’s happy.

  We’re all right. Everything is going to be all right.

  Not even five seconds pass before the bathroom door opens again. I only raise up my head, to look at her.

  She clucks her tongue and puts both hands on the door again. Her small breasts have a bit of weight to them and they sway when she sways.

  “Sometimes I do feel crazy,” she tells me and I see the hurt there, plain as day in her eyes as they gloss over.

  “You’re not crazy,” I say. I’m quick to sit up but before I can get off the bed, she’s already walking to me. I wait there on the edge, the bed bowed in the center from my weight.

  She stops before she can walk between my knees. When she’s hurt, all I want to do is love her. Lay her down and fuck her until the sad eyes are only in my memory.

  Crossing her arms, her breasts are pushed up. She is not helping my situation at all. “Tell me what you need, Babygirl,” I speak softly and caress her, placing a hand on each of her elbows. I know what she needs.

  She finally decides on her next words. “I love you, and you need to make this up to me.”

  “Get on the bed,” I tell her, standing up so she can take my place.

  “That’s not—”

  “Get your ass on that bed.” I’m firmer this time and she can’t hide the smile. She gets on the bed on all fours before rolling onto her back and lying down for me.

  “Knees bent, legs spread,” I tell her, and the grin widens even with her teeth sinking into that bottom lip.

  I make my way between her legs; she has to move her heels out further so my shoulders fit between her knees.

  I start with a single kiss on the inside of her knee. “Let me show you how much I worship this…” I say then pause to plant another kiss, further up her thigh.

  She’s already breathing heavy, already wriggling on the bed ever so slightly.

  I smack her clit with the back of my hand. Her top half jolts up, her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open. “Keep still,” I tell her and push her chest back down. She obeys.

  She says she wants a dom; I’ll give it to her.

  “Like
I was saying,” I say and plant another kiss on the inside of the opposite knee. “Let me show you how much I worship…” I keep my warm breath close to her skin as I speak and watch the goosebumps slide up her body, following my path of open-mouth kisses.

  “... This perfectly sane...” I can’t even keep a straight face while I talk, so I smile against her skin. The warmth of her feminine laugh and the way she covers her face fuel me to continue.

  Another kiss. “Never unreasonable...” I say and shake my head between her thighs, letting my nose graze just above her clit.

  “Completely stable...” I continue then suck on her clit, which cuts off her laughter instantly.

  Her legs close tighter around me, and I push them back open, reminding her to be still.

  “Beautiful,” I add and plant another kiss. “Smart,” I say and lick her from her entrance to her hard nub. “Woman,” I say then breathe against her clit while her hands find my hair. Pulling on what little she can grab, I don’t stop sucking and licking until she’s trembling under me.

  Then I take her like I have so many times. On this too-small bed, in this broken-down house, filled with so many memories just like this. Lying next to her when it’s all over, I think again about how I get it, even if she thinks I don’t. I get why she wants to stay.

  “You’re not coming in?” Laura questions me when I stop the car at the front of the Clubhouse. I haven’t even put it in park yet, but she knows the drill. She turns off the radio and looks at the Club and then back at me. The Club is an old bar Connor’s dad used to own. He had bikes and he liked to think of him and his friends as a motorcycle club. Connor inherited it when they were gunned down. This place is everything that represents how we got here. We inherited what was ours to have and the life that comes with it.

  “We just have to run and pick something up,” I lie.

  Laura clucks her tongue after unbuckling her seat belt. Narrowing her beautiful eyes, she tells me, “You picked me up so I wouldn’t drive here. So I couldn’t leave while you were out doing something stupid.”

  “Beautiful and smart,” I say then tilt my head to the side and give her a charming smile. “How’d I get so lucky?”