by Paula Cox
“You look like you might need a smoke.”
Alyssa’s eyes flew open. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Sure enough, standing a few feet away and looking nothing like she remembered, was Prince Wheeler.
He had grown, if possible, even taller—or maybe it was just the way he carried himself. Back when they had been each other’s world, Prince was insecure and tended to slouch a little in order to make himself disappear. Not anymore. He walked tall and proud, and he exuded a kind of self-assurance that he had never possessed before.
He was clean-shaved, but there was nothing innocent about his features. Prince used to have eyes wide with wonder—despite a childhood that could have made it into an inspirational self-help tale—and delicate features courtesy of his family’s French origins. Not anymore. There was a darkness in his once-clear, green eyes and lines on his handsome face that weren’t there before.
His wavy, unruly brown hair once gave him the look of an angel. Now, the errant strands that fell in front of his face did nothing but enhance the shadows in his eyes.
It was Prince, and yet it wasn’t. It was a man who bore no trace of resemblance to the boy he had been, and that threw Alyssa almost more than the fact that she was seeing him again for the first time in over eight years.
Her stomach, which had been in knots for the whole day, clenched even tighter, so much so that for a moment she feared she would throw up on his biker’s boots. Right. His biker’s boots. Alyssa ran her gaze over his whole figure and, after his startling appearance, she allowed herself to also take in his clothes. Black jeans, white T-shirt, and a damnable black leather vest that bore the sigil of the Devil’s Fighters. The red Satan mocked her from above the small pocket on the vest’s right breast, and Alyssa knew an even bigger version would be printed on the back.
She experienced an almost overwhelming wave of disgust that she never thought she would one day feel towards Prince of all people.
“Hello, Alyssa,” he said, in a voice roughened by something more than the years.
Swallowing hard against the rush of emotion, Alyssa finally unglued herself from the brick wall of the exterior of the diner. She, too, stood as tall as the weight of the past few days would allow.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, doing her best to keep as cool a demeanor as she could, given the circumstances.
He looked at her like she had just asked the dumbest question he had ever heard. “Where else would I be?”
“Are you here on behalf of your friends?”
Could that be? Could Benedict Lenday have sent Prince to offer the club’s condolences because he knew it would hurt her even more? She really wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be the case.
“I’m not,” Prince said firmly. “I’m here on my own behalf. For you. I wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“Really, Aly?” Prince gave her a small, tired smile. “Do you have to ask?”
“Don’t call me Aly,” Alyssa snapped automatically. “You’ve lost that privilege long ago.” She was being petty; she knew that, but she really couldn’t help it. She was emotionally exhausted and in no condition to bury her feelings.
Prince nodded. “Touché,” he said.
Alyssa was surprised. She had expected him to argue, shift the blame. She had expected him to justify himself. Then again, she reflected, that was probably something the old Prince would have done; this new Prince was just too confident to keep explaining herself to someone who didn’t want to hear it.
Because that was exactly the case, Alyssa realized. She didn’t want to hear it. In fact, she didn’t want to hear anything that he might have to say.
“I have to get back inside,” she said.
“Wait.”
Prince reached out quickly and grabbed her by the arm, closing his fingers around her wrist in a firm grip.
Alyssa turned around, surprised. What did he want from her? She looked down at his hand on her skin, and she thought that it just didn’t belong there anymore.
“What?” she asked tartly.
“I’m sorry, Alyssa,” Prince said. His green eyes shone with a deep, heartfelt sorrow that for a moment reminded her of the boy she had once known. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Alyssa stared at him, not knowing what to say. And then she realized that he wasn’t talking about what had happened between them. He wasn’t talking about how he had turned his back on her and their future together. He wasn’t talking about how he had thrown away his life to consort with a bunch of outlaws.
He was talking about her parents.
Alyssa felt a sharp pang of pain shooting across her whole being. She tugged sharply and freed herself of his hold.
“Thank you,” she said icily.
“When I heard—”
“I said, thank you,” Alyssa cut him off sharply.
Prince sighed. “You really don’t want to talk, even for a minute?”
“Is there anything to say?” She regarded him defiantly, daring to find some sort of common ground that they both knew didn’t exist anymore.
He seemed to deflate for a moment as he, too, admitted defeat. “I guess not,” he said quietly.
Alyssa stared at him for a few moments’ longer. She drank him in, fully knowing that—God willing—she wouldn’t have another chance. Then, she nodded curtly and went back inside.
Unsurprisingly, Lynn rushed up to her as soon as she was past the threshold.
“Oh my God!” her friend said in a half-whisper. “Are you okay?”
Alyssa shrugged. She wanted to say, “I’m fine,” but she just didn’t have it in her.
“I think I’m going to head home,” she said. “I’ve had enough for one day.”
Lynn nodded. “Of course.”
Alyssa took a deep breath and went about saying goodbye and thanking everyone for coming, which turned out to be yet another endless affair. Every once in a while, between a handshake and a hug, she would glance outside. Prince wasn’t there anymore, and she wasn’t sure whether she was happy or sad about it.
Chapter Seven
It was a wonder, Alyssa thought, that she didn’t crash the car while she drove back to the house. She kept going from emotionally drained to emotionally charged, with nowhere in-between. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt on such a rollercoaster. She felt almost as if she were on drugs—except that she was painfully sober.
Although in retrospect, she should probably have expected him to show up. However, she had not been ready to see Prince again. Not only wasn’t she ready to face him due to all the intense feelings she still had towards him and the way things had ended between them, she also wasn’t ready to face who he had become.
She always knew the Devil’s Fighters would change him; she would have been an idiot to believe otherwise. She always knew that, whenever the day would come that they would meet again, Prince wouldn’t be Prince. But being aware of the possibility of change was one thing; seeing that change with her very eyes was a whole other story.
During the brief exchange they had, Alyssa had tried very hard to catch a glimpse of the Prince Wheeler she used to know. She had tried to find something, anything that would tell her that the guy she had once loved so fiercely was still in there somewhere. But she had found nothing. The only appearance made by Prince’s old self was when he talked about her parents—and even then, it had only been a brief peek, gone in a flash.
Alyssa always knew the Devil’s Fighters would change him, but she had been naïve enough to hope that, even though she couldn’t understand it, the life he had chosen would make him happy. The Prince she had met earlier that afternoon was not happy. Try as she might, Alyssa couldn’t get the shadows on his face and in his eyes out of her mind. They have no business being there, she thought. Prince should be happy, he deserved to be.
Alyssa wondered what had gone so horribly wrong that would cause the man to walk around with constant shadows on his fe
atures. She quickly realized that she didn’t really want to know; she was too afraid of the answer.
No matter how hard she tried to relax, Alyssa’s head continued to spin with thoughts all the way to her parents’ house. The short drive seemed to take forever, and by the time she finally pulled up she was ready to either collapse into bed or punch a wall—whichever would come first.
However, it seemed that her endless day was not ready to be over yet. As she got out of the rental car, Alyssa noticed a Harley-Davidson parked in front of the house, right off the porch’s step. She felt a renewed surge of anger. How dare they? How fucking dare they? Why couldn’t they leave her alone?
She strode up to the front porch and, with a courage given to her by emotional exhaustion, she all but roared: “Lenday! Is this you? Where are you?”
A man rounded the corner of the house, and Alyssa’s heart made a somersault in her chest. It wasn’t Lenday.
“You’re lucky it’s me,” Prince said, walking up to her with an easy stride. “Bennie wouldn’t have taken your tone all that well.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass how Bennie would have taken my tone,” Alissa replied. She was in no mood for pleasantries or game. She just wanted to go inside and shut the door on the world. “What were you doing around the house? Looking for ways in?”
Prince arched a chestnut eyebrow. “I’m not a thief, you know? I was taking a piss. I’ve been waiting here for over an hour.”
Alyssa’s eyes widened. “You took a piss in my parents’ backyard?”
“No!” Prince looked shocked. “I peed by the dumpsters in the back alley. What’s wrong with you? I’m not a savage.”
“I have no idea what you are,” Alyssa said sincerely.
Prince sighed heavily. “Here we go again.”
“Yes, here we go again,” Alyssa snapped. “What are you even doing here? What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Everything. I haven’t seen you in eight years, Aly.”
Alyssa could actually feel her own gaze harden. “Whose fault is that?” She pushed past him, fumbling for the house keys in her purse. “And I told you, don’t call me Aly.”
She thrust the key in the lock as if she was thrusting a sword into an enemy’s belly. She couldn’t help it; she had never, never felt so angry in her whole life.
“Did you ever stop to think that it might have been hard for me, too?”
Alyssa spun around so fast that she almost lost her balance. She just couldn’t believe that those words had actually left his mouth.
“Are you kidding me?” she said, incredulous.
There it went again, that raised eyebrow. She couldn’t decide whether he did that to study her or tease her. Either way, it was infuriating.
“I’m very serious,” he said. “You may not believe this, but I really loved you.”
Alyssa stared at him. “What do you want, Prince?”
“I told you. I want to talk to you. I want to connect with you again, even for one moment.”
She didn’t get it. She didn’t get him. There was something guarded about the way Prince carried himself, like he didn’t trust the world—and perhaps, she thought, he really didn’t. And yet here he was, begging to have an honest conversation with her. Alyssa just couldn’t figure him out, and it unnerved her to no end.
“I spent years trying to forget about ever connecting with you,” she said. “What makes you think I would want to throw all that hard work out the window now?”
She saw him flinch at her harsh words, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He was the one who wanted honesty after all.
“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked quietly.
He looked sad, but Alyssa couldn’t bring herself to care about that either.
“I don’t hate you,” she admitted. Things would be so much easier if I did. She took a deep breath. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’m exhausted. I can’t do this right now.”
“Can you do it tomorrow?”
Alyssa blinked. “What?”
“One breakfast. Like old times.” He offered her a grin. “I’ll bring the coffee.”
“I have coffee,” Alyssa said absently. She was staring at him almost transfixed. Because there he was, the Prince she had known; he had the same shy, sexy grin. Complete with dimples.
“Then, I’ll bring the bagels.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes, and that’s when they both knew he had worn her down.
“Fine,” she finally conceded. “Come over in the morning. But you won’t stay more than one hour.” I couldn’t take it.
Prince nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her on her cheek. Alyssa was so shocked she didn’t even protest. She watched as he climbed on his motorcycle and drove away. She watched as the Devil’s Fighters’ red Satan looked out at her from Prince’s leather-clad black, mocking her.
*****
Alyssa didn’t know what had possessed her. She awoke the next day hoping it had all been just a bizarre dream, but stepping out of her bedroom quickly proved that it was very, very real.
The house was empty, as demonstrated by the all-too silent rooms that she passed on her way downstairs. Her parents were gone, as demonstrated by the insane amount of casseroles that littered the kitchen. Prince was coming over for breakfast, as demonstrated by the text she found waiting on her cell phone when she checked it.
“I’m going to hold you to that breakfast. 8 a.m. sharp. X.”
Alyssa groaned. That text made her uneasy for a number of reasons. First, Prince had never signed himself “X.” in his life, and she thought it was incredibly lame. Second, she had no idea how on Earth he had gotten her number. Third, Prince was coming over for breakfast.
She glanced at the clock on the kitchen’s wall and was relieved to find that it was only 7:15 a.m. That gave her forty-five minutes to prepare.
Thirty minutes later, and with only another fifteen minutes to go, Alyssa was anything but ready. She had showered, and she had the first cup of coffee of the day. She even had an apple to boost her energy. Nothing worked. Nothing cleared her mind enough to prepare her for what she was going to say to him.
What was she going to say to him? How would this work? Could they really just sit down at the kitchen’s table and pick up where they left off?
Alyssa didn’t think so. She was pretty certain Prince didn’t think so, either; he may have changed, but he sure had not turned into an idiot. He must know that her agreeing to have breakfast together—again, why did she have to go and do that?—didn’t change anything. He must know that she was still furious. He must know that her heart was still broken.
The roar of a motorcycle’s engine approaching took her away from her reverie. Alyssa sighed and got up. Spying from beneath the curtains at the kitchen’s window, she could see him riding his Harley towards her.
She shook her head. Prince used to be afraid of motorcycles. Seeing him riding one was shocking, surreal, and heartbreaking all at the same time. When he pulled up in front of the house, she noticed that he had changed his clothes from the previous day, but that he was still wearing his Devil’s Fighters vest.
His knock came shortly after, and Alyssa had to take a few moments before she could finally bring herself to go and open the door. True to his word, Prince was holding a paper bag from Lynn’s diner.
“Bagels,” he said, holding the bag up for her to see.
Alyssa nodded. “Thank you,” she said awkwardly. “Come on in.”
He followed her back to the kitchen. For a moment, they just stood there, not quite knowing what to do.
“I should probably toast those,” Alyssa finally said.
Prince held out the bag to her, and she set out to the task, grateful to have something to do.
“Did you get some sleep?” Prince asked from behind her, as she busied herself at the kitchen’s co
unter.
“Amazingly, yes,” Alyssa said. “I guess I was just too exhausted to lay awake in bed.”
“That’s good. At least you got some rest.”
She nodded and turned around, leaning back against the counter as she waited for the toaster to do its job. “You know, you could’ve taken that thing off,” she said, unable to stop herself. “The vest, I mean. I would’ve much rather you had come in civilian clothes.”
“I’m sorry,” Prince said. “I can’t. We have to wear it all the time.”
