That didn’t mean things, where I’d need to be the prosecutor, wouldn’t come up that would require me to be cold.
I just told myself that I had a job to do, and if I ever got myself too deep, if I couldn’t do my job, I’d have to make some hard choices.
I just hoped that moment didn’t come until much later if it came at all.
Lane
My shoulder hurt like a motherfucker the next day.
When I’d gotten shot, it felt like a hot sting. In the aftermath, after our medical team had taken care of the wound and I’d gone to the bar, it felt more like an onsetting sore ache, the kind of thing that was gradually building but wouldn’t be that bad. But now, when I woke up in my bed the next morning?
It felt like someone had twisted my shoulder out of place. Literally, any moment that didn’t involve my shoulder hanging limply by my arm hurt like hell. I knew that it was going to make being at the shop and doing anything else a real pain in the ass.
I won’t let it affect me, though. I will be strong. I will show up, and I will discuss with the officers what happened. I will speak with certainty.
Unlike with Angela...
Now there was something that had confused me. Up to the point where I had hugged her, for the most part, I was just unloading everything about Cole on to her. That conversation was much less about Angela being there and much more about me needing to express the truth, that I’d been so afraid to confront Cole. It was all true, everything I had said last night... unlike many of the thoughts in my head.
And even with that awareness, I still couldn’t bring myself to forgive Cole. To admit such a thing would shift all of the burden on my soul, and that was a weight I did not think I could handle at the moment. If I ever saw Cole, I didn’t know what would happen.
I supposed that was an upgrade over before when I was sure I’d probably kill him. But still, not being sure of what would happen didn’t preclude an actual fight from happening.
But as soon as I had hugged Angela, something different switched. It was the first time I’d had a hug like that since Shannon’s funeral.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d had sex since then, but it had always felt like a very shallow endeavor. It was almost like going through the motions—I was President of the club, I’d say a few nice things about the girl, I’d take her back, we’d fuck, and then she’d leave. It was all an emotionless endeavor, in large part, because I didn’t have any emotions to give.
And yet, that hug was more intimate than any sex I’d had in the past year. So when I pulled back and looked into her eyes, the intensity of my gaze was as much a thank you to someone for being willing to be close to me and let me unload my emotions as it was anything flirtatious or, perhaps, romantic.
Maybe it was a little fucked up to feel so close to the woman who had initially threatened to get me behind bars. But pictures of people could change, and her understanding of me and my understanding of her had morphed. I... I felt very close to her.
Very close.
She was a great woman. She was very attractive—her curly hair and pale skin made her hair vibrant and noticeable, and though she had on work clothes, I could see the outline of a great body underneath it. There were women I’d hooked up with who had objectively thicker asses or larger tits, but she was more beautiful. I sounded so goddamn corny, but...
Well, there was something I could barely admit, in part because it felt like blasphemy, but when I let the thought come to mind, it felt right.
The feeling I got when I looked at her was the same feeling I got when I first locked eyes with Shannon.
No, that didn’t feel right at all. Well, it did, but I couldn’t let it feel right. I had to move on from Shannon eventually, but with her best friend? What the fuck would that look like? That would be so... everyone would judge me so hard, but none would judge me harder than myself. And I was already an asshole enough with myself
Yet, if I slept with her... I’d thought of it before, sure, but it was more of a game of dominance, a conquest than it was now... it would be intense and real. But would it be right?
It didn’t really help matters that, when I reached into my jeans pocket from the night before, I found a crumpled-up napkin that had her phone number. I could remember at the moment when she gave it to me that I wouldn’t do anything about it other than put it in the Black Reapers’ database, but that was before we’d had that moment where we embraced and had our eyes drawn to each other.
I headed to the front door from my bedroom, all the while gazing upon that crumpled piece of paper, the three in her area code smeared because of how I had folded the napkin. All I had to do was just pull out my phone, unlock it, press her number in...
No. You need to get to the club and discuss last night. Whatever happens after that can happen, but you’ve got club business to take care of.
You did a good thing being President last night. Now it’s time to show that wasn’t a fluke. Don’t let it go to waste.
I gently folded the napkin back up, placed it in my pocket, and headed for my bike.
Riding was going to be a bitch with my shoulder, but I saw it as my punishment for a year of being aloof as President. I had to take it and do my job, and then, eventually, I’d get to be the leader I knew I could be.
* * *
I was pretty sure I was going to die a few times on that ride.
