by Drew Elyse
That I had just made the biggest fucking mistake of my life.
Roscoe watched me from my bed as I repeated the path I’d been walking from one end of the room to the other. I’d been pacing the same pattern for half an hour or more. I wasn’t really sure. There wasn’t a clock in the room, and if I picked up my phone, I’d do something stupid.
Like call Jager.
Oh, wait, I’d already done that stupid thing.
Hence the pacing.
At first, when I’d hung up on Jager, I’d been upset. I’d been on the bed with Roscoe, feeling a crying jag coming on. That lasted all of a few minutes when I realized I didn’t do crying jags. I wasn’t the girl who flung herself into the pits of emotional upheaval over some guy. Particularly not when that guy was being an asshole.
Jager was, absolutely, being an asshole.
I was not about to become some weepy, needy thing because of it. Seriously, screw that.
And screw him.
That was when the anger started, which kicked off the pacing.
I had no idea what set Jager off and had him instigating his little “that’s it” play, but I knew he could shove it if he thought he was going to just brush me off with less than a dozen words on a freaking phone call.
That wasn’t me attributing more to what we had than was there. It also wasn’t me thinking ending a fuck buddy relationship required a heart-to-heart where we talked about our feelings. That was me knowing whatever was in his head that had him ending it was something jacked.
The intensity of what we had hadn’t gone anywhere, and I knew for a fact he felt the same. Every time we got alone, it was only hotter. So, if it wasn’t that we fizzled out, that meant he thought he had to break it off.
That meant he either thought I was starting to get too attached or he had some twisted idea that he was being noble.
“Seriously, fuck him,” I said to Roscoe.
Roscoe, obviously, didn’t respond. He just watched me from his spot on my bed. He could have been sitting on his own bed on the floor, which I’d paid way more than I thought a dog bed should cost for. He didn’t do that. In fact, when he’d realized he could leap up onto my bed, that over-priced dog mattress was scarcely a thought.
“I mean, sure, I’ve thought about it. Ash with her ‘maybe’ crap,” I muttered, still irritated that word had been bouncing around my head since she’d said it. “But it’s not like I thought that was us. He made it very clear it wasn’t.”
Roscoe kept his droopy face my way as I moved back and forth, probably thinking I was nuts. Though, maybe I was. I was pacing around my bedroom ranting about some guy I’d been fucking to my dog.
That made me stop halfway through one of my laps. There I was, ranting and raving and all worked up. Was that really better than crying? Either way, I was expending all this emotion on some guy. Doing that wasn’t going to change anything. It wasn’t going to give me answers.
Answers. The word bounced around in my head.
Before I could think it through all the way, I was pulling on my shoes. Roscoe had just been out, so he was fine to chill a while. I wouldn’t be gone long.
I drove to the clubhouse, assuming—rightly, I realized, when I pulled up and his bike was parked there—that was where he’d be. It was where he always seemed to be unless he was at the gym or we were both at his loft.
I moved into the building, on a mission. The guys were all around, and had I stopped to think for even a minute, I would have known that would be the case. Dad had left early saying they were having a meeting. That, it was plain to see, was over, but the guys were still mostly hanging out. And, I didn’t miss, so were the club girls.
Jager was there. He hadn’t gone back to his room. He wasn’t feeling it at all. The asshole was just chilling in the clubhouse lounge like nothing was up, his hands wrapped around a glass of his normal drink. Better than any of that was the slut in a crop top and tiny shorts seated on the stool next to him.
Well, it was good for him he found my replacement so fast.
A couple of the guys called out greetings to me as I made my way across the room, but I didn’t pay enough attention to see who. That wasn’t important.
I approached the bar at a clip and only stopped when I was right in Jager’s space.
“Can we talk?” I requested.
“Nothin’ to talk about, Ember,” he replied, not looking at me.
Oh, no.
“There so fucking is something to talk about. You don’t get to be a coward and pull that crap on the phone and not even look at me,” I snapped.
I could feel the chick beside him watching me, but I paid no mind to that.
Jager downed the rest of his drink, his powerful neck arching back to take back the last of it. I watched it, distracted from my anger for a moment by the desire to run my tongue down that skin.
Dammit, Ember, snap out of it, I rebuked myself.
“Fine,” he said after he set the empty glass on the bar. “We’ll talk, then you’ll go.”
I wasn’t going to argue. I had no desire to be there once I said what I needed to. Without hanging around to hear him tell his piece for the evening he’d be back, or whatever he would say to her, I took off again toward his room.
As I made my way down the hall and away from the music and noise coming from the lounge, I realized his steps were right behind me. Either he’d moved quick to catch up, or he hadn’t given that woman anything. I didn’t let myself fret over which it was.
I stopped at Jager’s door, waiting for him to unlock it. When I did, I saw his attention on the door across the hall that was still mine, on some level. He looked to me when I didn’t approach and realized what I was waiting for. He smartly didn’t try bicker that we take this to my room. I wasn’t going to have it.
Jager let us in, allowing me to stomp passed him before he followed and shut the door. He then stood there, just inside it, not saying a word. I had to admit, I thought I was used to Jager’s silence, but getting it on the phone earlier and right then when any idiot would know what I was there for had me pissed.
“Are you going to say anything?” I snapped.
“What do you want, Ember?” he responded.
Seriously?
“Seriously?” I asked, exasperation and attitude taking equal place in my tone.
“We both knew what this was,” he said.
I sucked in a deep breath to keep from knocking some sense into him and forced myself to put the jumble in my head into actual words.
“Yes, we both knew what this was. I’m not standing here because I got some crazy idea in my head that we were real or anything that was going somewhere,” I started. Jager didn’t take the pause I put there to interject with anything, so I went on. “What I want to know is what has you pulling ‘that’s it’ out of nowhere?”
His posture, legs planted, arms crossed, and blank expression told me he still felt no burning need to take over the conversation.
Well, I would just keep rolling with it then.
“We both know the sex hasn’t run its course. We’re both still getting something out of it, and you can’t bullshit me into thinking you don’t. I’ve been right there with you and know for a fact it’s still just as hot for you. So, what is it then? You think I’ve somehow attached myself emotionally to you and you need to cut that string? Because, guess what? I haven’t. I’m cool. I’m completely clear on what we’ve got. So that’s bull.”
“You sure about all that?” Jager asked.
Was he serious?
“Yes,” I shot back.
“You’re standing here, pissed and half-yelling at me over the fact that I ended things when sex was all it was. If that’s all it was, what does it fucking matter?” he countered, and gave me nothing but the words. There was no change to his expression, no flash of anything in his eyes.
But I felt a wave of something rush through me. I ignored it and went back to my tirade. “Because it’s good. We both enjoy it.
Why end it over nothing?”
Jager moved then, taking two steps closer to me. There were still several feet between us, but even that shift made him feel infinitely more imposing.
“You’re telling me you haven’t considered it? Haven’t even thought maybe there could be more?” he inquired.
My tongue felt leaden. He couldn’t know that. There was no way.
“No,” I answered.
“Liar,” he replied right away.
I retreated a step, but he followed me.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he said. “You’ve thought about it. You’ll do it again. You’ll convince yourself it’s a good idea. That’s not a good thing for either of us.”
I looked at him, feeling ready to bolt. How could he know? Sure, I’d thought about it, but I hadn’t granted it the kind of headspace it would need to manifest in my behavior. I hadn’t started acting like some lovesick schoolgirl over him. He couldn’t know it was in my head.
Unless…
“You’ve thought about it,” I whispered as it came to me.
Jager froze. It was obvious even without him moving. I could actually see his body tense until he was solid.
“This isn’t about me,” I kept on whispering. “It’s about you.”
“It’s about you.” His voice was tight.
“It isn’t. It’s about the fact that you…what? Want me but don’t want a relationship?” I started to piece together.
“That’s not it,” he argued.
But it was. It so was. It was all there, all coming together before my eyes.
“It is. You feel it. We could work, and that terrifies you.”
Jager didn’t respond anymore. His face was still impassive, but it looked like a mask. He was giving it all to keeping what he was feeling from his expression, and that said all I needed to know.
“I’ve thought about it,” I admitted in a quiet voice. “Of course I have. I haven’t been in a place to give it much, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t crossed my mind.”
The muscles of his arms were so tense, I could see the veins beneath his skin.
“We’ve both thought about it even if we wouldn’t admit it, even if we both just meant to keep it what it was. You know that, and it freaks you out. You wanted to cut and run before either of us owned up to it,” I went right on voicing all I’d finally realized, all we’d both been dancing around since the beginning.
“I’m a mess,” I admitted something else. It was something I had been avoiding for weeks. “I’m exhausted and you know exactly why, just like I know you haven’t slept a full night since we met. I’ve got a list of things I won’t let myself think about that’s so long, it’s a wonder I can even function some days. You know it. You knew it from the start when you told me to talk to Ash, and you’ve worried about it. That’s why you told her to talk to me.”
He slipped then, letting his eyes widen just a touch.
“Yeah,” I responded to his involuntary reflex, “I know you did that. She told me because she knew. She didn’t say it, but she knew why you’d ask her to do that.”
Jager’s eyes got dark, and he demanded, “What did she tell you?”
I knew exactly what he was asking.
“He didn’t go into a lot of detail or anything, but he told me his story. I don’t feel right sharing that. It’s not my place. But what he went through was horrible. He didn’t say as much, but now I can see he never dealt with it. Instead, he carries it around, every day, feeling that pain.”
Ash had said it, and I could see the defenses right before my eyes. He was feeling it, and he was protecting that secret.
“She didn’t tell me,” I tried to soothe him. “Whatever it is, whatever happened, she didn’t tell me what it was. She said you told her some to help her after she shot at that guy, but that was it.”
Some of that wild, twisted dark left him, but not all.
“That’s why,” I surmised. “Whatever it is, that’s why you shut me down.”
He remained a silent, dangerous presence. He didn’t agree, he didn’t silence me. Still, there was a threat apparent.
“You think I’d push that, try to force you to talk about it.” That much was clear from his reaction. I shook my head. “You really think I would do that, even with what happened to me.”
It wasn’t a question; it was a realization. He was shutting me out before I could push, something he was sure I would do. Something I wouldn’t do, something I couldn’t when I walked around every day fearing someone would do the same to me. I knew what it felt like to avoid it, to fear letting it get to you would destroy you.
How could he not see that?
“Instead of realizing I might understand some of what you’re feeling, instead of giving us both a chance at that, you’d rather cut and run.”
The dark of his eyes changed in a way I didn’t understand. Frankly, I was feeling too exhausted by the situation to try.
“If that’s what you want, you can have it,” I gave in. “We can stick with avoidance, throw away something that helped us both and go it alone.”
He didn’t want that. I knew it because he lashed out, but the words he said when he did also told me he wasn’t willing to fight for some mystical “us” that could be.
“Sure you’ll have to be real alone with Ace panting after you like a fuckin’ dog,” he snarled.
Then, I really was done.
So done, I wasn’t even going to fight against that attack.
“Think what you want,” I said, my voice sounding as tired as I felt.
I stepped around him, going to the door.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
I didn’t answer that. It was pretty self-evident.
When I had the door open, I gave him only two words.
“Goodbye, Jager.”
He gave me three days.
Not Jager. Jager was content to give me forever. That was done.
No, Ace gave me three days.
They were three days—though I was loathe to admit it—I spent being pathetic and stupid. I spent them almost exclusively on my bed or the couch. I put on a game face when Dad was around so he wouldn’t see that I was a mess. I kept myself showered and dressed as normal. I ate even though I had no appetite. For all the world, it seemed like I was just happy to chill at home with my new dog.
Luckily, I had walked away from that shelter with Roscoe. He was the only man I needed. He also wasn’t as active as any of the breeds I’d been considering. Instead, Roscoe was happy to laze around with me between his frequent naps.
The only time I’d truly failed at keeping up my facade was that first night. It had taken a long while for me to fall asleep after I’d gotten home from the clubhouse. I had though, in time, unable to fight it off any longer.
I woke from nightmares of being taken, of being awake when they brought me to the club and Jager turning me away, of being dragged from Disciples’ grounds screaming, knowing I was facing a fate worse than death.
I woke when Dad burst into my room, a gun in his hand, ready to kill. And I woke realizing my screams had not just been in my mind.
It took a long time to convince Dad I was alright, and this was in part because I wasn’t altogether sure it was true. What I did know was I couldn’t have a scene like that happen again. Since that night, I’d set alarms to go off every hour. It wasn’t helping my exhaustion, but I hadn’t scared Dad again.
That pattern had gotten me to now, seeing through the open front blinds as Ace got off his bike and walked up to the door. The open blinds weren’t the best call, I could see now. I couldn’t ignore him when he’d already seen me sitting there. Sighing at my short sightedness, I got to my feet.
Ace didn’t knock. He just waited for me to get there. When I did, I pulled the door open and greeted him with an artificial cheery, “Hi.”
I wanted to wince when it left my mouth. It was too high, too bright, too obviously fake. Ace’s raised
eyebrow as he stepped in without saying anything told me he heard it too.
I stood by the door, contemplating my next move as he went in and sat on the couch where I’d been. Roscoe was still on the next cushion—not a guard dog in the least. Ace gave him a rubdown.
Not for the first time, I found myself taking a second to appreciate Ace as the fine male specimen he was. He had on a white t-shirt beneath his cut, well broken in jeans, and that hat on his head as always. I would never say it to him—or anyone else who might get the wrong idea—but he was seriously hot. Like all the guys, there was an obvious edge to him. However, his was immediately less forbidding than most. A first encounter with most of the brothers for a woman who wasn’t used to being around bikers would send her running. Ace was alluring in the classic bad boy kind of way. He made a woman want to get close even if she knew it was probably risky.
He needed a woman, a good woman. He was the type who could have an old lady and be devoted to her, like Slick, Gauge, and Sketch. He just had to find her.
“Do you want to stand there all day or are you going to talk about it?” he asked, his attention still on Roscoe.
“Talk about what?” I tried for innocent.
He turned his head my way and gave me a look that said don’t bullshit me.
“I was there, you know. When you stormed in and when you left,” he offered as further reason to cut the crap.
Damn.
“There really isn’t much to say,” I told him. “It’s over.”
“He instigate that play?” Ace asked.
“Yes.” But that wasn’t really the whole story, so I added, “But I finished it.”
“You finished it, but you’re hiding out licking your wounds?” he didn’t hide the skepticism.
“I’m not licking my wounds.” Okay, that might have been a lie. There may have been a bit of wound licking in my hours of lazing around. “But, yes, I finished it.”
“What do you need?” he asked.
What did I need? I needed to move on. I needed to get my life sorted, find a job, keep myself busy. I needed to find a gym.
