Page 32 of Cruz

“You’re incredible.”

My eyes crash down to the floor while my face heats up brutally and the rest of me feels like I’ve just thrown myself off that ledge, but instead of falling, I’m soaring. “Stop. Seriously. I’m not like other people. I don’t want the white picket fence and the two point five kids. I don’t need bouquets of flowers and chocolates. I’m old, Cruz. I don’t think you realize how old. Maybe not physically, but mentally, I’m like a ninety-year-old woman.”

“Oh. Good. Apparently, older women like to read naughty smut books and flirt with younger men.”

My head snaps up and I have to press my lips together to hold in my laughter. “That wasn’t what I meant. We’ll see. That’s it.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious,” I sigh.

“Me too. It’s seriously okay.”

I roll my eyes. I want to punch him lightly on the shoulder the way guy friends do, but I’m scared that if I touch him, I won’t want to stop. It’s probably safer to wait. To see. To be cautious and take things slow. To not have more distractions at a time when being unfocused could cost so much.

I stand and offer a tight nod, but I can’t keep a goofy grin from my face. I’m smiling so wide that if I kept going, it would hurt. “Goodnight.” We’ve talked quietly, using hushed tones so we don’t wake up Liam, but that word comes out extra hushed. A little bit sensual and a whole lot weighted.

Cruz doesn’t say anything more, but his eyes follow me all the way down the hall. I know that for him, silence is more than just staying quiet, and that feels monumental.

Chapter 13

Sloane

We see.

Actually, mostly we don’t. Life isn’t normal, but it’s not as bad as I pictured all of this going. It’s been a whole week. A regular week with all my regular customers. Liam’s been going to work at the garage, same as before. There’s no news from the clubhouse, which Liam and Cruz both think is the classic case of good news. They told me that Wizard and the others are still working hard, sifting through emails and texts between all the gang members. They haven’t found anything that would indicate that they know Liam knows anything. It’s what we figured, but that extra layer of certainty makes it easier to take a breath again.

The only real difference in our lives post Liam dropping this bombshell on me, is Cruz.

He spends most of his time hovering around the café. When I insisted that he sit in the back so he doesn’t creep out the customers with his constant monitoring, he’d pace out of sight and study the camera feeds on his phone.

We all ate dinner together again tonight, and after, Cruz watched feeds with Liam on and off. They’ve been trading duties, so that Liam takes half the night watch. Even if they slip up, the feeds are also being monitored at the clubhouse by Wizard or Maverick in their security room.

That shouldn’t make me feel better, but I guess… I don’t know. Part of me does.

It makes it easier to lie here and not be able to sleep. At least I’m not worried that the gang is going to come for us and we’ll be on our own. We won’t be. That’s not the reason I can’t sleep. Half of it is Cruz and the intense longing that has only become worse over the past week, haunting me, but the other half is Liam.

I just want my son to be safe. I want him to have that same bright, wonderful future that I’ve always dreamed of for him. The fact that it might look different than I thought it would is just something that I’ll have to deal with. For now, that means working with the club. It means trying to be enthusiastic about that middle ground I talked about.

Cruz has hardly spoken more than a few words to me or Liam, but we talked. I trust him. It’s like he needs a recovery period after saying so much. There have been times where I’ve been tempted to just… be close. Like he’s magnetic. Which he isn’t. Because he’s a human being.

I switch off worrying about Liam and go back to trying to figure out how I could make things work with Cruz. I turn over and stare at the empty side of my queen bed. How do I want it to work? Do I even have an answer for that? The empty space seems like a metaphor for so much more. Is there a tiny little chance in hell that any of this could work without the world burning down all over again?

I’m not so lost in thought that I don’t hear the low moan drift through the apartment.

I freeze.

What was that?

I have mama bear instincts when it comes to my child getting sick in the middle of the night, but that wasn’t Liam. That groan was deeper. Far more guttural. It sounded like a cry of pain.

I throw back my blankets and rush to the door before I freeze, my brain going straight into all the self-preservation and protection lessons that Cruz tried to drill into me that day at the clubhouse gym. I’ll never admit it to Cruz or Liam, but I’ve started sleeping with Liam’s old baseball bat under the bed. Aluminum, so it might fuck shit up, but it won’t kill anyone. I scramble back to the bed and grab it.

What if someone is out there? What if that groan of pain was an intruder that got past Cruz and they’ve disabled or hurt him?

In that case, what chance do I stand?

Though it’s probably not a great idea going out into the hallway, what am I supposed to do? Lock the thin door to my room and not protect my son and Cruz? I edge down the hallway, bat raised. There’s no way I’m letting some asshole hurt the people I care about.