Haunted.
Beautiful.
“And you said it was too late,” I continue, heart thudding.
He steps closer again, slowly, every movement careful.“That night was real.”
“I know,” I whisper.“I felt it.I can feel it again if I let myself.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, then drag back up, dark and intense and hungry.“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I do mean it,” I breathe.“I’m remembering you.”
He swallows hard.“You remember the good.Wait until you remember the bad.”
“What bad?”I challenge softly.
Lightning flashes outside the small, narrow windows lining the upper walls.The power flickers.Riot tenses.
“Riot,” I say firmly.“What bad?”
His jaw grinds.“I walked away from you.”
My chest tightens.“Because you didn’t want me?”
“No,” he growls instantly — violently.“Because I wanted you too damn much.”
The room goes electric.
I blink.“Then why?—”
“Because I thought wantin’ you meant I’d break you,” he says, voice shaking with something I don’t think he realizes he's revealing.“Because the club pulls danger like gravity.Because you deserved easy and I’m not easy.Because once I realized what I felt, it scared the shit out of me.”
My breath catches.
“So you left?”I whisper.
He looks away.“No.We made a choice.Together.I should have been man enough to say all the things I didn’t.Instead I let you think you could push me away, shut me out, even when it was written all over your face, your body, that you had already fallen.”
The words hit like an echo something familiar and painful.
A memory flickers.
Me standing at the bakery counter.
Riot on the other side.
His face tight, unreadable.
My heart breaking quietly.
The smell of flour and sugar and the feelings of hurt.
I gasp.My knees buckle.
Riot lunges forward, hands gripping my arms instantly.“What?What’d you see?”
“The bakery,” I whisper, breath trembling.“We were arguing.You said you couldn’t give me something.And I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”
