“What?” I ask.
“That day at the clubhouse, after I came back. I thought we’d see each other and talk it through, that we’d be okay… but you looked at me like I was nothing. Like the last couple of months didn’t even happen. I was barely holding it together, and when you looked at me like that, it broke me.”
“Elizabeth—”
“It felt like three years ago all over again. I was alone, and I had nowhere to go, and you put me in that place, you chose to leave me. How am I supposed to trust you again after you did that. You’re the first person I let get that close to me. I’ve never told a guy that I love them before, I’ve never trusted anyone enough for that. But I trusted you, andyou… you left me.”
Her body racks with sobs as she sinks against the cabinet, sliding down until she’s on the floor, knees drawn to her chest as she hugs them close. She probably doesn’t want me anywhere near her, but I can’t see her like this and do nothing. I fall to my knees in front of her and reach out my hand, but she jerks away, crying into her arms instead.
“You left me,” she murmurs against her arms, “just like everyone else. I know I gave you an ultimatum, but I didn’t expect you to leave…”
“It was a mistake,” I say, “I know I shouldn’t have done that. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I left. Elizabeth, I promise I’m not going to leave you again.”
Neither of us speaks, the quiet only broken by the occasional sob that breaks from her, each one feeling like a knife to my heart, knowing that I’m the cause of her pain.
“Please talk to me,” I say, “or let me hold you.”
She shakes her head. “I’m happy that you and Donovan have sorted stuff out, and I’m glad you’ve changed the club rule. But it doesn’t change how you made me feel, you really hurt me.”
“I know I did.”
Her head drops back against the counter. “Will you stop fucking agreeing with me and being so nice.”
“But you’re right.”
“I know I’m right! But I’m not ready to forgive you yet, and you agreeing with everything I’m saying is making it really hard to stay angry at you.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“Stop doing that!”
“You can be angry with me, I deserve it.”
“I am angry at you!” she shouts, “And you’re damn right you deserve it.”
“Good, be angry at me, just be something at me. I can take you yelling, but I can’t handle you shutting me out.”
We sit in silence for what feels like an age, her head resting back on the cabinet as tears pour down her face. I kneel in front of her, helpless but determined; I’m not leaving her again.
Eventually, without even looking in my direction, she reaches her hand towards me. I take it and let her guide me to sit next to her, so my back is also leaning against the cabinet. I exhale with relief when she lays her head on my shoulder, she doesn’t say a word, but this still feels like a step forward.
Elizabeth
I blink my eyes open, and I’m met with darkness, although I know I’m not in bed. My ass is numb, and the floor is cold beneath me. Where the fuck did I fall asleep? Remnants of my dream linger; I can still smell the leather of Angel’s cut… wait… I turn my head and feel leather against my cheek. He’s here.
I remember yelling at him, and crying… Shit, we really fell asleep on the kitchen floor after all that? It was hard to stay angry at him when he was being so agreeable. Exhaustion took over and I just gave in, pulling him to sit next to me, just wanting to be close to him again.
I’d meant what I said, I’m not ready to forgive him yet, not for how he treated Donovan, and definitely not for leaving me… but he came back. His breath is soft and even, he’s still asleep. I tilt my face, and my eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to make out his profile. Fuck, he’s beautiful, even with his face covered in bruises, and I’ve missed him so much. I caress his face, causing him to stir a bit. Moving to my knees, I lean in and brush my lips over his.
“Elizabeth,” he murmurs.
“Shh,” I soothe, kissing him again.
He must wake fully because the next thing I know he’s fisting my hair, holding me to him as he claims my mouth. I let go, give in, too tired to fight it anymore. I might not forgive him, but I love him, and I need him. Lying back, I pull him with me to the floor until he’s settled between my thighs.
“Fuck,” he moans, “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I whisper, “I need you, please.”
