“Sounds good,” I state. “When do we leave?”
“In about two hours. I had someone else scheduled, but you can go.”
Jerking my chin, I spin on my heels and walk toward the door. I need to pack my shit and load up my bike. Bullet calls out my name as I reach for the handle of the office door. Closingmy eyes, I inhale a deep breath and hold it for a moment. I don’t want this to be a big thing, but he’s been my friend and my brother for nearly as long as my own flesh and blood.
Pausing, I turn my head and look back over my shoulder, letting out the breath in a long exhale as he speaks.
“It’s not the end of the fucking world, Goose. Sometimes, shit just isn’t meant to be.”
I know he’s talking about Cidney, and I could agree with him, but my heart won’t let me. She was meant to be, meant to be mine. Fucking made for me. I know it deep in my marrow, and nothing will or could convince me otherwise. So instead of saying anything, I jerk my chin in his direction.
“I’ll miss you.”
The words come out without me even thinking about them, because that is the fucking truth. I will miss Bullet. He’s one of my oldest friends, best friends, and my boss. We’ve spent every single day together since I was a teenager. I’m going to miss the hell out of him. And my brother. The whole club, really.
Sure, I’m pissed at Ivy, but he isn’t the Vicious Reapers. There is so much more to our club than its members. As much as I want to say that all of this is because of Ivy, it’s not. I had thoughts of leaving and branching out on my own before this even happened with him, before Cidney. This is just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
It’s time for me to venture out. To do something different. Maverick is settled with a wife and kids. The others are all settling down as well. I won’t ever be able to be that way. I won’t be able to have Cidney and the life I imagined with her, and I sure as fuck cannot watch her find it with someone else.
Walking into my bedroom, I start to pack my bag when I realize that not everything I own is going to fit inside. But then I wonder if I really need half the shit I own. I’m standing, lookingat the folded clothes on my bed, wondering what to keep and what to leave, when there is a knock on my door.
“C’mon in,” I call out. I don’t know who I expect to see walk through my doorway, but it’s not Maverick. “What are you doing here?” I demand.
He grunts, but I can see the unhappiness clearly written on his face as he begins to speak. Every word is said with a hint of betrayal in his voice. I’ve done something that changes everything between us, and he’s pissed about it. The irony of that is not lost on me, considering he did the same to me not long ago.
“Bullet told me you’re leaving. That you’re going nomad, and you didn’t tell me a goddamn thing.”
He’s pissed, and I don’t blame him, because if the tables were turned, I would be losing my fucking mind, too. I did lose my mind when he started seeing Zadie and wanted to change our dynamic. Now it’s my turn, and unfortunately, he’s going to have to deal with it just like I did.
“I can’t stay here.”
CIDNEY
Opening my eyes, I glance around the room and wince. It wasn’t a dream. It was real. Reaching for the sheets, I tug them up my body a little higher. They slide across my skin, and I realize I’m naked, too.
Definitely not my imagination.
Turning my head slightly, I look at the man beside me. My new boss has the sheets up to his waist, he’s bare-chested, and his eyes are closed as he sleeps. At least I think he sleeps, but then he turns his head, one eye opening and then the other as his lips twitch into a small smile.
A sad smile.
“Is this weird?” I ask.
He chuckles, then clears his throat. “Only if we make it weird.”
I press my lips together as my gaze searches his. He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he reaches out to cup my cheek. His thumb slides along my bottom lip, and the memories of last night come back, rushing through me.
It was good.
Not as amazing as it is with Goose, but it was good with George. And George is safe. He’s a doctor, he’s got his own home, he’s not part of a motorcycle club, he’s not involved with Justin, and he doesn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to date me.
This is who I should be with.
Too bad this isn’t who I want.
But I don’t say that, and I can tell I’m not who he wants, either. I don’t ask him who he’s hiding or running from. It doesn’t matter. We’re here together, and maybe we can distract one another for a while. We can be one another’s safety.
“I’m not going to ask you about Trent Fairfax. I know that’s who you were seeing,” he states. I open my mouth to ask him how, but then decide it doesn’t matter.
