I’m lounging in bed, wearing the same leggings and tank top I did yoga in earlier this evening. I was trying to read, which I love doing, but I couldn’t focus. Between Mom’s texts, Bubby sprawled out directly on top of my head on the pillow, and my thoughts about a certain shadowy shadow who happens to call himself Shadow and thinks he needs to stick to them.
I’ve been reading the same page over and over. It’s a great book. Soulmates who don’t know they’re soulmates because the world sees them as sort of enemies. They have great chemistry. They hook up. That’s all it is. But then… it’s not. It’s more. They don’t want to admit just how far they’ve fallen.
There’s a very good chance that I get that level of self-denial and there’s no way I should be reading spicy romance books. I have a big stack of historical fiction. They’re amazing.Not spicy. Mostly. Or maybe I should be reading an encyclopedia or a home improvement guide. Definitely nothing to make my thoughts wander to certain sexy, asshole bikers in there.
A sharp knock on the door scares the hell out of me.
My book goes flying out of my hands and lands on the floor. I sit up sharply, nearly tearing half my hair out because Bubby couldn’t be bothered to stop snoring for anything.
It’s still pouring, and I’m pretty sure that Mom gave up on her hotel and drove over here to try and get some sleep.
I rush to the door, ready to pull her inside and make us tea to help her warm up.
But it’s not my mom.
It’s Shadow.
He’s cast in shadows by the light from my apartment flooding the metal stairs as soon as I open the door. Dressed in his leather vest, jeans, and his biker boots. His helmet dangles from one hand, but I don’t see his bike anywhere. The rain pelts down on him, running off his head and down his face in rivers. His jeans are slicked down to his muscular legs, and his leather jacket isn’t doing much to keep the rain off because it’s too sodden.
Despite the frigid rain, his eyes meet mine. They’re hot, rich and dark, sparking with amber lights.
He stands silently, like a statue in the worst weather, but he’s not a statue. He’s flesh and blood, and I know he feels the wet and the cold.
This man who so badly wants the world to believe that he doesn’t feel anything, just so that he can convincehimself. Hedoesn’t want to be capable of happiness, or love, because if he admitted that he is, and he thought he couldn’t ever have it, what a horrible aching void that would be.
He didn’t just give me a future by saving my life. He might be my future. It’s not a question if I’m brave enough to fight for him. I have to figure outhow.
“God, Shadow!” I blink, still a little stunned, also trying not to cry at the stupidly horrible metaphor this is. “It’s pouring out.”Like he doesn’t notice.“You’re soaked. Come inside.”
His eyes stay on mine, burning with so much emotion that his voice is flat, almost like they’ve sucked it all out of him. “No. I… just wanted to tell you that I’ll go to the symphony.”
“Seriously?” I clap my hands like I’m five. “That’s amazing. I was so worried about you. That we’d pushed you too hard and that I’d said everything wrong. We never should have come to your club like that. Best intentions. I keep apologizing for them, and that’s not right. I’m truly sorry and I promise, that was the last time that I’ll catch you off guard.”
“I mean, I get that uh… Preacher and Rita are worried about me. Maybe other people too.”
My heart slams to a stop and restarts, crunching gears and grinding hard like an old machine. “You are so loved, Finn. You have no idea.”Fuck. Fuck, shit, oh god.Did I really just say that out loud? Shadow drags in a shaky breath. Yeah. I really did just say it. He heard it. I reach for him before he can bolt. “God, will youpleasecome inside? You’re going to get sick.”
“That’s such an old person thing to say. It’s a complete fallacy too.” He exhales a shaky breath, trying to cloak himselfin humor and put distance between the words I said before they sink in.
My hand slides along the slick leather, trying to gather enough in my fingers to haul him inside, but it’s stretched so tight over his muscular frame that there’s almost nothing to grab. “Where’s your bike?”
“I parked a few blocks over. I didn’t want you to hear me coming in case I changed my mind about… about coming.”
“You could have texted me.”
“I didn’t want to text you.”
Those gruff words dig their way under my skin. “I don’t like the idea of you riding your bike when the weather’s bad and it’s dark.”
“I’m a good rider.”
“I know, but what about everyone else?” I run my hand down the front of his leather jacket, gathering up the wet. “Let me get you a towel. You’re going to ruin your vest. My dad would have a heart attack if something happened to his. I know how much it means.”
I hold my hand out, but he doesn’t take it. His eyes narrow, and he can’t keep the twisting turmoil he’s feeling from showing naked in his expression for an instant.
“Shadow. Come on. Let me get you a towel and something hot to drink.”
His hot eyes take on an edge of wildness as he studies my palm. He has gloves on. He wouldn’t even have to touch my skin. There’s no danger to him in getting warm. No danger but kindness and… and… alright, Iknowwhat the danger is.
