Unbreakable: Unrequited Part Two (Fallen Aces MC Book 2)

by Max Henry

I move to the cupboard . . . and realize it isn’t where the tumbler in my hands goes. I carry the cup across the room to the shelves above the cooker . . . and stare at the things in the cupboard before my addled brain remembers what the hell I’m doing. I place the plastic tumbler with its peers, and then turn in circles, trying to work out what the hell to do next. Oh my God, how do I look? I’d thrown my comfiest sweats on to have a night in with Dante.

  The engine cuts out as I sprint down the hallway and hang a sharp right into the bathroom. The fluorescent light is unforgiving on my complexion as I stare in the mirror in horror. “Shit, damn it.” I swipe up my foundation brush and squeeze the hell out of the tiny bottle that’s pretty much empty. There has to be something in here. The container is a mangled mess by the time I’ve bled it dry of everything I can. I’m leaned over the counter, fingers pulling my lower lid down as I swipe a pencil quickly over the rim, when he reaches the door.

  He knocks twice, solidly.

  My hands flap frantically beside my face as I scan the counter for my brush, and then knock the toothbrush holder onto the floor with a loud clatter as I grab it. Pulling my hair into a ponytail in record time, I rush down to the door and take a moment to breathe, to gather myself, and put on my usual resting bitch face.

  He can’t know what he does to me . . . even when I haven’t seen him for more than half a decade.

  I stare at the badly painted timber door, the only thing separating the two of us after all this time. Pushing up on my toes, I cautiously put one eye to the peephole and curse the fact I never replaced the porch light when it blew last month. A mop of blond hair, darkened by the night, covers his face. It’s longer, he’s let it grow, and because of that I can’t see his eyes as he looks down to his feet, just his trademark beard and full lips. Damn it. I step back and drag a deep breath in before shooting my arm out and taking the handle in my grasp. Get your shit together, woman. He’s just a man. My grip on the door is the only thing that keeps me on my feet. Holy shit. He’s not ‘just a man’—he’s a man who’s aged well.

  Dark green eyes stare at me in the light that spills from over my shoulder out to where he stands. The seconds stretch.

  “Do you have a habit of turning up at people’s houses this late?” I snap. There, that should do it. Short, snappy, and exactly what he’ll probably expect of me.

  The bastard smirks. “Only when it matters.”

  Aw, hell.

  THIRTY-THREE

  King

  She hasn’t changed a bit. Still as stunning as ever, and still as sharp-tongued.

  “I guess you better come in then.” She rolls her eyes, but I can see straight through her bullshit.

  “You don’t look overly surprised to see me?” I step into her modest house and take in the surroundings. A single three-seater sofa sits before an old TV, which rests atop an obviously worn and second-hand side table. Mismatched chairs are tucked under a round table to the right, and her kitchen is no more than a short counter and a cooktop. The walls are bare and there doesn’t seem to be much sign of what she does in her spare time: no magazines, no craft, no books . . . nothing.

  “You seen enough?” she snaps. “Or would you like a tour?”

  “Is he here?” I turn and look her over. She’s not dressed to impress, wearing a simple pair of black leggings and an over-sized sweater that hangs off one shoulder, but fuck me if she isn’t sexy in it.

  “If by ‘he’ you mean our son, then yes, Dante’s here.” She crosses her arms and stares me down with a scowl. “He’s asleep.”

  Come on, Elena. I might not have seen her for years, but I know this woman. She can’t have lost all feelings towards me. It’s there—all I need to do is figure out how to bring the truth back to the surface.

  “Why did you come?” she asks.

  Always to the point. “I think it’s been long enough, don’t you?”

  She ducks her chin, and her toe taps an erratic rhythm on the carpet. “Cut to the chase, King. What do you want?”

  “My family.” I take a step toward her and she backs away.

  “No.”

  “We’re not arguing anymore,” I tell her, shaking my head. “I left you alone this long, gave you space, and—”

  “Are you serious?” Her brow furrows and she squares her shoulders, dropping her arms to her sides. “You gave me space?”

  “I’ve never turned up before now, right?”

  “Maybe. But you had your fucking lap dog following me around like the clumsy bloodhound that he is.”

  Damn it. “You know about him, huh?”

  “Who do you think told me you were coming?”

  Mental not to self: fire the fucker. “I’m curious, okay?” She eyes me as I pace the small room, looking over everything and nothing all at once to avoid her face. “You took my son away. I want to know what he looks like, how he turned out.”

  “If he’s anything like you,” she murmurs.

  “Kinda.” I rub a hand over my throat; this isn’t turning out at all like I’d hoped. “Can we not argue?”

  “You show up here when I’ve so obviously tried to make a life for us away from you and everything your damn club represents, and you expect me to not argue?” She laughs bitterly and turns away, a sardonic smile on her lips. “You were always a dreamer.”

  “I want you closer. I want to visit Dante.”

  “He doesn’t know a thing about you,” she snaps. “He never asks about you, King.”

  Ouch. I’m pretty sure she caught me flinching. “You kept me a secret?”

  “I kept you my memory.” She slumps down on the arm of the sofa, her shoulders crowding forward. “Why fill his head with stories, King? Why give him something to miss if he didn’t need to?”

  “He’ll get to an age where you can’t stop him if he chooses to look for me, Elena.” I crouch down before her and try to catch her averted gaze. “You can’t keep him from me just because you don’t want me anymore.”

  A lonely tear crests her cheek and she swipes it away with the back of her hand, drawing in a deep breath. “How is your club, anyway?”

  “Don’t try to pretend you care.”

  “You happy? Is there a . . .” She wriggles her head side to side, pursing her lips. “Special lady?”

  And there it is: she’s jealous. I laugh, harder than I mean to.

  She smacks my upper arm with her open hand. “Shut up.”

  “Oh, baby.”

  “What? It’s a valid question.” Her anger grows the longer I chuckle at her unease. “Is there?”

  I’m a callous fucker; I make her stew a little longer.

  “Tell me what you’ve been up to.” She glowers at me as I walk around her to take a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. “Tell me about Dante.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” She glares over her shoulder and then gives me her back, her arms firmly folded once more.

  “Is he good at school?”

  “He’s a top student, very concise in his work.”

  Atta boy. “And he’s got good friends?”

  “A few.” She shrugs. “Is she nice?”

  Uh-uh. Not yet. “How long you been here? Is this the house you were in when you brought him to see me as a baby?”

  She sighs and pushes off the sofa. I watch her go, admiring her lithe body as she storms into the kitchen. “Are you thirsty?”

  “Not really.”

  She bangs about for a minute, and then reappears with nothing. I do my best to conceal my smirk as she leans a hip into the dining chair and scowls at me. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  “And I’ve got every right to be.”

  She stares off down the hallway to her right, her lips set in a firm line, her jaw stiff. “You’re nothing like the man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

  “A lot’s happened in the time you’ve been gone.” My mood sours. She’s bringing up things I didn’t plan on rehashing with her.

  “W
hat happened to the guy who was too shy to approach me at that corner store?”

  “He learnt what a relentless asshole life can be.” I look away. She doesn’t know what she’s playing with. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Like what? Why you left me at your parents’ house when I needed you the most, all so you could go gallivanting back to your God damn club and save the fucking day?”

  Bitch has flipped the tables. “You’re going to wake up Dante,” I seethe, staring her down.

  She lifts her chin and takes two steps forward, wriggling her shoulders, all staunch and confrontational. “What’s the matter, King? Asking you the hard questions? Did you think you could walk in to my life again and avoid giving me the truth of it all?”

  “Don’t.” I push to my feet, the anger pulsing below my flesh, hot and eager to escape. “Don’t take me there.”

  “Where?” Her nostrils flare, her cheeks red with her rage, and yet tears build in her eyes. “Back to a time when you put me second and expected me to beg for more scraps at your feet like a pathetic puppy?” Her arms unfold, and she lashes out, shunting into my chest. “I might have been in love with you, but I wasn’t prepared to fight for you to show me that you loved me too.”

  “You know I loved you . . . you know I love you.”

  She reaches out to push me again, tears on her face, but I catch her wrist. “Prove it,” she growls. “I bet there isn’t a thing you could say that would show me you’ve always loved me, that you didn’t stop, that you never forgot about me the whole time you’ve been putting that damn club before us. What the hell can you say, King, that would make me believe I was the one for you? Huh?”

  I clench her wrists hard, probably a little too much so, and pull her close. “Never kissed anyone since.”

  She blinks once, twice. Her chest heaves. “Wh-what?”

  “Just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t look at another woman like that without thinking about you.”

  Her body goes limp, the fight subdued. “Never?”

  I shake my head. I could ask her if there’s been anyone else—hell, there has to have been with a woman as stunning as her—but why ruin this moment? Why kill the mood?

  Elena pulls back, forcing me to let her go. “I don’t believe you.” She faces away, hiding her emotions from me.

  “Why would I lie?”

  Her body stiffens as I stroke the hair off her bare shoulder. “I’ve seen the kind of women you have at your clubs. Are you telling me you’ve never been tempted?”

  I skim my palm over her shoulder and lean in close to her ear, testing her reaction when my breath hits her neck. “Baby, temptation is a given. I’ve looked, but never admired. Never even thought about touchin’.” She tips her head away the slightest fraction and gives me the barest amount of permission.

  “Why?”

  “Because why would I want to touch someone if all I’d do is think of you?” I chuckle before pressing a light kiss to her neck. “Especially when nobody could ever compare.”

  “King . . .”

  “Elena?”

  A shiver wracks her body. “What are we doing?”

  I run my nose around the shell of her ear, inhaling the sweet smell I’ve missed so much. She’s changed her soap, changed the tone, but the floral notes still give me the same goose bumps as they did six years ago.

  “We’re connectin’,” I whisper. “Remembering why this all started.”

  “And what then?” A gasp slips from her lips as I loop an arm around her waist and pull her flush against me. “What happens after?”

  “After what?” I smile against her neck.

  “You know what I’m talking about.” Her palm covers my hand, holding my arm around her.

  “What do you want to happen?”

  She holds tighter as I begin to rock her to an imaginary tune. “I don’t know.” She twists in my hold, her palms laying flat against my shoulders.

  “I miss you.”

  Her breathing quickens as I duck my head and nuzzle her neck. Softest spot on the woman.

  “What do you want me to do?” Her voice is strained, protesting, but her body tells me a whole other tale.

  “Give life with me a try. Spend a week, a month with us.”

  Her head swivels back and forth. “No. I can’t confuse Dante like that.”

  “Why would it confuse him?” I step back, surprised as she spins out of my hold and retreats across the room, putting distance between us.

  “Why the hell wouldn’t it? His father, a man who hasn’t been in his life until now turns up and wants us to damn well blend into a fucking lifestyle at an outlaw motorcycle club, a life I never wanted for either of us? What don’t you get about that?”

  “And why haven’t I been a part of his life?” I argue back. “Huh? You tell me, woman. Why?”

  “Because your damn club is more important.”

  “No!” Fuck, I’ll probably wake him, but who fucking cares? “You made that a problem, not me.”

  “Like hell I did.” She paces to the entrance of the hall, checking in the darkness. Her face bears a storm as she turns back toward me. “Sure, you probably pass me off as another one of those needy, possessive women who can’t share. But damn it, King, every fucking time I needed you, you left me drowning. You were never there when I wanted you the most.”

  “I can’t be there to save you every time you stub your toe, woman.”

  “Is that what you think it was?” Her head whips back, her hands to her hips. “When I was knocked unconscious because he caught us together, was my plight that fucking trivial?”

  I bow my head, ashamed that I accused her of such.

  “When he shot me in the leg, was I putting it all on?” she continues. “Or what about when he carted my fucking mother’s coffin in and then proceeded to cut drugs from her damn corpse right before my eyes? Was I over-reacting then?” Her face is pained, her tears fierce.

  I’ve never felt lower in my life.

  “I didn’t know,” I whisper.

  “No,” she sobs. “Because you didn’t stick around to find out. And worse than that, you never fucking asked.”

  “Fuck, Elena.”

  “Mom?”

  Jesus. Both our heads whip to the shadowy figure partway into the hall.

  “Dante.” Elena wipes her cheeks frantically, but it’s no use. Her eyes are red, her skin flushed. “I’m sorry we woke you, baby.”

  “Who’s here?”

  “Nobody. Go back to bed.”

  Fuck, that hurt. “I’m not nobody,” I growl. “Come out here, boy.”

  His cautious feet scuff into the living area between us. The keenest green eyes stare up at me, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. He’s so big.

  Dante swings his gaze to Elena, his brow furrowed. “Mom?”

  She places a hand to her forehead, hiding her eyes. “Baby . . .”

  “Hey.” I draw his attention back my way to try to give her a moment. “You know who you look a lot like?”

  He shakes his head, turning his body toward me.

  Elena holds a fist to her mouth as she watches our exchange.

  “Your daddy.”

  Dante glances back at Elena and then at me before he asks, “Is that you?”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Elena

  I thought I knew heartbreak. I thought I knew suffering. But seeing King choke up, seeing Dante look between us for an answer neither of us can vocalize . . . I’m ruined.

  “Yeah, baby,” I manage to push out. “He’s your daddy.”

  I’m pretty certain not a breath is taken. Silence envelops the room as our boy looks between us, his face twitching through a set of warring emotions, and then he turns heel to run back to his room.

  “Dante.” I go to chase after him when King steps forward to halt me.

  “Give him a minute.”

  “He’ll be upset,” I say. “I should go talk to him.”

  King shakes his head, sa
dness in his gaze as he stares at the floor beneath my feet. “If he wanted to talk, he would have stayed. Give him a moment to work through things, and if he doesn’t come back out, then go.”

  “And you know so much about him and what he’s thinking because . . .?”

  He pins me with a deathly stare. “I might not have been around to see him grow up and get to know him, Elena, but I was young once too.”

  I grab a hold of the nearest thing next to me, the dining chair, and pull it out to take the load off my weak legs. “This is exactly what I tried to avoid.”

  “You can’t protect him forever.” King kneels before me, a position I’m so used to with him, and places his large hands on my knees. “It doesn’t matter how we finally met, he would have always had a lot to work through.”

  “I guess.”

  “He was never going to run into my arms and profess his happiness.” He chuckles. “The kid doesn’t know me from Adam.”

  He doesn’t, and whose fault is that? I bury my face in my hands and groan. “I don’t think I could have done my life more wrong if I tried. I want a start-over. I want to do this all again and get it right.”

  “Who says it’s wrong?”

  “The look on his face,” I say, gesturing to the hall. “You saw how torn he was. If I’d stayed closer, swallowed my pride and kept you in his life, if only for a few visits a year, maybe he wouldn’t be so confused.”

  “Maybe. And maybe he’d resent you more for not letting me see him more often. You can’t play a guessin’ game, Elena. Nobody can predict the outcome of their decisions, otherwise the damn things wouldn’t be so hard, would they?”

  I smile at the fool and reach out to touch his cheek. “How do you always see the bright side of everything?”

  “A life accustomed,” he answers, leaning in to my touch. “What do you want to do now, babe? You want me to go?”

  Do I? Even I don’t know the answer to that. No, I don’t want us to become a part of his life, a part of his club, but damn it all, I’m still the same selfish woman I was years ago—I still want him to stay so he can make me feel better, even if for only one night.

  “I do, but it’ll just confuse things.”

  “You sure about that? Maybe it’ll help you make up your mind?”