“I don’t blame you. Short, it’s okay. I’ll work something out for Trip and me. I’m just sorry to have disappointed you.”
“What the fuck?” He closes the gap between us, takes my chin in his hand, and turns my face up toward him so I’m forced to look into his eyes. “Why would you think you disappointed me?”
Pulling myself away, I point my finger at myself. “Why? Well, to start with, I’m not the girl you thought I was. I’m not a sister, I’m a mom, though I never behaved like one. And I was too much of a coward to stand up to my dad?—”
“Bron. Bronwyn.” Wringing my hands together, I stare down at them. “Bron,” he repeats sharply. “Look at me.” He says nothing more, just waits for me to look up. When I eventually do, I expect to see coldness in his face. Instead, I see something I didn’t expect. His eyes are glistening. “Bron, I saw the damageyour dad did, and I doubt it was the first time he put his hands on you. For some reason, he wanted Trip’s existence kept quiet, and if you’d spoken up, I dread to think what would have happened to you.” He takes in a shuddering breath. “One thing is for certain, neither you nor Trip is ever returning to that hellhole of a house, and the mockery of a family. But that won’t stop your father from trying to take you. So, that’s why I said what I did. I’m offering you my protection and that of the Kings. And for that to work, I’m going to claim you as my ol’ lady.”
My eyes go wide, and, seemingly of its own accord, my head starts shaking. My feet move as I back away from him. I know Saint claimed Pippa, and she’s now what Short wants me to be, an old lady. And for Saint, that means she entered a relationship whereby she’s now expecting his baby.
I can’t accept the club’s protection if it comes with strings I can’t fulfil.
I’m not blind. I don’t live in a vacuum. I see people having healthy relationships all around me. On my rotation in a maternity ward, I see women having babies quite happily. Well, discounting the screaming and verbal abuse they extend to their partners while in labour. After their babies are born, they seem ecstatic to have brought new life into the world together.
But that’s not how it happened in my case. It’s mainly down to the experience that scarred me, or it might be I’m just built differently, but the thought of any man putting his penis near me fills me with horror and disgust. And if that’s what Short expects, he’s in for a rude awakening.
Even if there’s a pull toward him that I can’t understand.
Short seems to accept he’s given me enough to think about. “You must be fuckin’ drained dry after this evening. I don’t mind if you want to go to bed now. Or, if you want to talk more, I’m happy to stay and chat with you.”
Bed? My brain fixates on that one word. “Are... are you staying here tonight?”
“What part of ‘protect’ you, don’t you understand?” He chuckles softly. “I always intended to stay here tonight, and now it’s more imperative.”
“Dad won’t find me here.”
“Not talking about that son of a bitch, I’m talking about you. Getting the truth off your chest must have brought many things to the surface, and I know I handled it badly. You probably think I’m an ass. But I’m worried about you, Bron. I want to be close if you have a nightmare.”
My reply comes lightning fast. “I can’t sleep with you.”
Again, he gives that chuckle. “Not expecting that darlin’. You’ve got a lot to work through, and probably a fuckton of therapy before or if that’s ever on the table. So, push that worry out of your mind. I’m not your dad. I’m never going to force you.” He takes a step closer to me. “I owe you an apology, Bron. I came down fuckin’ hard on you when you didn’t deserve any of those angry words. And that was all down to me, not you. Kind of built you up in my head. Thought you were innocent. No.” He holds up his hand to stop me from interrupting. “I know what you’re thinking, and maybe you’re right. My thinking you were a virgin wasn’t some shit about how some men value a woman being untouched. They exist for sure, but I’m not one of them, okay? I’ve never had any desire to be anyone’s first. It’s nowhere on my bucket list, I assure you. What I’m talking about is me thinking you were unsullied by our world, and how I would have been wrong to bring you into it.
“I’m not a good man, Bron. None of us in the club is. Not when you get to the deep heart of it, but the shit that I’ve done? Doesn’t come anywhere near as immoral as what your dad did to you. I thought you were someone untouchable, someone to keep away from the darkness of our lives. But you know what?Through no fault of your own, you’re already on the dark side, and maybe instead of pulling you down further into it, maybe my role is to help you back into the light.”
I’m completely blown away by his monologue, which can be summarised simply. “I shattered your image of me.”
He gives a crooked grin. “‘Bout sums it up, darlin’. Yeah, I thought you were one thing, swung that pendulum too fuckin’ far the other way when I saw you as another. Jumped to conclusions I shouldn’t have. Took you being brave enough to share the truth with me to understand how fuckin’ brave you are and how you’re the very epitome of a hero in this story.”
“I’m no hero.”
He captures my eyes with his. “Believe me, you are. You got Trip out of that nightmare and ran to the Kings.”
My head shakes automatically, but if that’s what he wants to believe, I’m not going to stop him. It’s a one hundred percent improvement over what he called me earlier this evening. And, we’ve cleared the air. The elephant in the room is now out in the open, and Short’s treating me like a friend again.
I’m drained, worn out, but far from sleepy. If I go to bed now, those nightmares he referred to are pretty much destined to appear tonight. I’d like to feel more relaxed before I attempt to close my eyes.
“Would you…” I start shyly. “Would you mind if we stayed up and talked some more?”
Instead of giving me a verbal reply, Short starts searching the cupboards, grins when he finds the whisky, and brings it out. He waves the bottle toward me, but I shake my head.
“Wine?” he asks.
I hold my finger and thumb just a fraction apart. “Just a tiny glass, please.”
He looks like he’s tipped out half the bottle, but not wanting to be rude, I take it anyway. I only need to drink a little,then, when he’s not looking, pour the rest out. Well, that’s my intention. But the wine actually tastes quite nice, and I doubt I’ll want to waste it.
“Let’s take these through to the lounge and get comfortable.” When I don’t immediately move to follow him, he looks back. “What’s up?”
Now we’re alone, I can ask the question I really want to put to him, but I’m nervous, afraid of the answer.
