“I had a lot of time to think when I was in the hospital.”
I clear my throat, not quite sure I want to hear his thoughts.
“What happened at your brother’s apartment could’ve gone worse than it did.”
“I wouldn’t blame you for never forgiving Eduardo but?—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. What happened with Eduardo was business, and him being your brother doesn’t play into it for me.”
“Then what?”
“You had a fuckin’ gun pointed at your head,” Diesel yells.
“I know, and we were all lucky no one was seriously hurt.” My chest contracts, then tightens more. I don’t need to be reminded of the scene that’s been the main feature of my nightmares for the last three nights.
“And that’s the thing. You being with me is dangerous.”
Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t it.
“Technically, it was my brother who brought this shit show to town.”
“Yeah, but Benito grabbed me ‘cause I’m an outlaw, and we were doin’ business with him.”
“What are you trying to say?”
DIESEL
Shit, did she have to have that little quiver in her voice? Did her eyes have to be so wide and trusting?
“Look, I got a lousy track record with women. I mean, I told you I’m a two-time loser in the marriage department. You’re so young, and I’m much older than you.”
How the fuck do I tell the only woman I’ve ever really cared about that me dropping her is a good thing? Not for me, for her.
“Yeah, I get it.”
“You do?” Shit, I was kinda hoping she was gonna fight me on this, but Martina isn’t that girl. She’d take what I gave her, which makes what I have to do even harder.
“Plus, my life is way too dangerous.” I cock my head. “And I think you’ve had your fill of dangerous for a while, right?”
“Right.”
“You’ll see, it’s better this way. You don’t wanna be tied down to a busted-up outlaw biker.” I try to sell it with a laugh, but she doesn’t buy it.
“Sure.” Her eyes are zeroed in on the beer bottle in her hands.
“You can do so much better than a guy like me. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Now that you got your passport, you should go back to California, see your Mom, meet a nice guy. Someone more your age. Someone with something to offer.”
“Okay then, if you don’t need anything else, I should be going.” She pushes off the couch.
“Are you still gonna fight on Saturday?” I honestly didn’t know how I wanted her to answer.
She heads for the door. “I don’t know.” She pulls it open and leaves without a second look.
I lay my head against the couch cushion, and an overwhelming exhaustion washes over me. I sent her away. I gave her all the reasons why we can’t work, won’t work, and she didn’t fight me, she didn’t cry or plead with me, or even look sad. She just took my words in like I was reciting the parts on my Harley.
