It’s why I’ve worked so hard to woo her, and why I shrug off every insult like it’s foreplay. She may not see the bigger picture between us, but I do.
We’re meant to be together.
And from the second I saw her standing in that doorway; I knew I’d always protect her.
It sounds crazy when you say it out loud, but it’s a vow I live by. As long as I’m breathing, I’ll always put Poppy before myself, and unlike everyone else in her life, I refuse to turn my back on her.
She can push me away.
Tell me to fuck off.
Hell, she can even stab me in the heart if it makes her feel better, but nothing is going to keep me from protecting Poppy like she’s mine.
I just have to find her again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Poppy
(Six months later)
My lungs are on fire by the time I turn the corner.
Air scrapes down my throat in ragged pulls, each breath powerful but useless. My pulse hammers violently in my ears, drowning out everything except the frantic rhythm of my shoes hitting the pavement.
I don’t dare look back. Looking back is what gets you killed.
The deal went sideways so fast I barely processed it. Wrong place, wrong timing, wrong people lingering too long. Paranoia crept under my skin as I cut through side streets, my hoodie sticking to my back, fingers trembling as I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, fitting around the vials and pills still lingering there.
It was supposed to be a quick job, one that would fetch the club a good profit just like Warden wanted. Only the deal didn’t happen. I saw the people watching me, the ones waiting for me to approach my target and finish the deal.
The guy sitting outside the coffee shop reading a newspaper upside down. The lady walking her dog, that kept it sniffing atthe same fire hydrant the second I turned the corner. There were two men sitting in the alley way watching me, and another two on a park bench across the street. All of them dressed in street clothes, but still out of place.
That’s why I had to keep moving.
I didn’t stop or even make eye contact. I walked straight past my target, who shifted nervously as I passed him, glancing towards the others as if he was waiting for further instruction.
I didn’t wait for them to react. I just kept moving, chanting in my head over and over again, “Don’t get caught.”
I ducked into the first alley, then broke into a sprint, just as the streetlights flickered on one by one, and the sun crept out of sight, washing everything in that dim orange glow that made the world feel strangely exposed
I was so consumed with fear that I didn’t even see her when I turned the corner, but the second I did, my body forgot how to function.
Amber.
My ex best friend.
Now she’s standing there awkwardly staring at me, ripped straight out of a life I no longer recognize. Five years. Five years of silence. Five years of unanswered calls and messages that eventually turned into bitterness. My chest tightens so hard, it almost hurts worse than my burning lungs still trying to recover after running.
A child clutches her hand… he’s the spitting image of Eddie.
It makes perfect sense now. The selfish bitch stayed away because she was hiding a child, too proud to come home and ask for help.
Of course she built something stable while I sprint down sidewalks doing whatever I can to not get arrested.
I stop just short of them, chest heaving, lungs fighting for air that refuses to work for me. The last thing I want is forher to see me like this: poisoned from the inside out, bones showing because I barely eat anymore, my arms riddled with dots of addiction I don’t have the heart to cover up. I can’t even remember the last time I got a good night’s sleep or felt like I could have one without keeping one eye open.
These past few years have been torturous.
