Page 38 of Cruz

“Not terrible. Anything you make is good. When I’m hungry, I’m not particularly fussy.”

On the phone screen, an old truck pulls up near the café. I sit up a little straighter and grab it. I relax immediately, because I know that truck. It’s an old fifties beast, ratted out by nature. Raiden hasn’t fixed it yet past making it run. He wanted to keep as much of it as original as possible. The inside is even worse than the exterior, and it rides so rough that it’s basically all grinding gears and vehicular protest the entire time. There are plenty of inside jokes about that truck, though most of the guys won’t shoot it down in front of Raiden. It’s kind of his baby, and for being a cage, he’s pretty attached to it.

Raiden and Liam get out at the same time. The hollow bang of metal doors needing to be shut with force echoes all the way up here.

Sloane puts the pot on the burner and moves to the window. “Oh. Liam’s home, and Raiden’s with him. He’s the Vice President, right?”

“That’s right.”

I get a good look at their faces as they walk past the front door, and Liam opens it with his keys. We both hear the faint jangle of the bell downstairs.

My heart sinks so hard and fast that it ends up in my gut, which turns into a rocking, twisted mess. It’s not the coffee. It’s the look of pure relief and joy on Liam’s face that does me in. I know what that means. I’m happy for him, and for Sloane. She’s about to be assured that the gang doesn’t know anything, and as far as the club knows, it’s safe. This is the best possible outcome to a shit scenario.

It means that I’ll be going back to the clubhouse and I can resume my regular schedule. I should be thankful for extra sleep and to have the pressure taken off of me not to make a single mistake but thinking about trying to go back in time a few weeks and pick up where I left off is like trying to put on a t-shirt you haven’t worn since you were ten. It’s not going to fit.

The we’ll see that Sloane proposed might be over. I had no problem being in a committed relationship with my own hand before, but going back to jerking off and thinking about a solo life is so empty that I actually make a noise of pain.

Sloane jerks around, eyes wide and horrified. “Are you okay? What hurts?”

“Nothing.” I try very hard not to wince. “I’m fine. Just swallowed my coffee the wrong way.”

“Oof. I hate that.”

I pound myself a little too theatrically on the chest. Wrong spot for choking. Right spot for trying to beat my aching heart back into submission.

Fact is, I got used to this. Used to the café. The people. To Sloane and Liam’s routine. I molded my life around theirs to fit the job and complete the task that I was asked to do, but it turned into something else. I’d like to pass this off as infatuation. I’ve never loved anyone. I don’t have the first idea how. But… maybe you just decide that a person is special. That they’re great. That you want to spend time with them, and you do, and then you start to appreciate everything that makes them who they are, and you fall for that. Every day after is another day to get to know them better, to appreciate them, to cherish them, to want to protect them and enjoy life all the aspects of life with them from the boring to the exciting, the thick and the thin, until they become everything? Isn’t that love and isn’t that how it starts?

Footsteps sound on the stairs and the door opens. “Mom?” Liam’s head appears, followed by the rest of him. Raiden enters after and closes the door for Liam.

“Hi,” Sloane says, a little shy and uncertain, but she shakes that off. “I’m just getting the water started.” Her eyes travel to Raiden. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. It’s not fancy, but it’ll be hot, and ready in fifteen minutes.”

I expect him to decline, but he smiles. “Sure. Thanks.”

Liam doesn’t even bother to sit down and wait until dinner. He rushes over to Sloane, hugs her hard, and explodes with the news. “Mom! Wizard and Maverick told Tyrant and Raiden that they’ve been through just about all the communications that they can find, going back months and months, and there’s nothing that indicates that anyone knows that I saw anything. They got into the security footage for that nightclub, and I was never on the cameras in the hallway. It was so shadowy, they were pretty much just there pointlessly. They didn’t record much from the angles and the height they were set at.” Liam hangs onto Sloane’s hand but turns all that elation to me. “You’re free to go home, Cruz. Tonight. But stay for dinner, obviously.”

“Obviously.” I try for sarcasm, but my voice comes out wet and wrong.

Sloane’s expression is too full of emotion to pick anything out. I can’t tell if she’s elated for Liam and sad to see me go, or if she’s still uncertain and doubtful about the danger, erring on the side of caution. She does sweep a grateful look in Raiden’s direction as he pulls out the chair across from me.

“Thank you,” Sloane breathes. “For everything you and your club have done for us. I’m so grateful.”

“The meatballs,” Liam chides, laughing. He looks like he could hit the ceiling, he’s so fucking pumped about this news.

Me too. Obviously. I should be. I am. I have every right to be conflicted. Sloane gets the meatballs from the fridge freezer and hands them to Liam to toss into a pan to simmer. If she’s thinking that with me gone, her brain will reset itself and temptation will be removed and everything will get patched up and go back to her version of normal, and she’s relieved that it won’t include me and the mess that I’ll inevitably bring being Liam’s friend and us being part of the club together—maybe I don’t want to be conflicted. Maybe what I want to feel is a whole lot of nothing.

No, what I really want is to give Sloane a hug. To hold her in my arms and reinforce that I won’t ever let anything bad happen to her.

I want that same hug in return. I’ve never been held that way.

Fucking gangs. Fucking life. Fucking universe trying to fuck with me when I’ve been through enough fuckery already.

I won’t be able to talk to Sloane tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either. She might want time. Space. It could be a good thing or a bad thing, but either way, I’ll just have to get real about it and deal. Sloane deserves everything. She’s worth respecting and she’s worth waiting for.

And just because my time here is at an end officially, doesn’t mean that I’ll ever be done protecting her.

I wish I could tell her, but she’s back at the stove, working side by side with Liam, humming happily while he recounts his day at the garage. To them, this is the best news. This is freedom. This is sheer unguarded happiness.

I think so, until she angles slightly and gazes at me discreetly over her shoulder. Our eyes clash in a storm that I’m shocked doesn’t blow Raiden and Liam halfway across the kitchen. My heart shudders and an answering shiver raises the hair on my arms. While she’s happy, she’s not radiant like Liam. Relieved, yes, but there’s a shadow to her posture, a weight on her shoulders that hasn’t lifted. I don’t want it to be me. I don’t want to be a burden or a worry, causing her guilt and anxiety. She blinks and there’s none of that there so much as there’s naked longing. She doesn’t look like a woman who is finished with me. There’s a silent apology in her eyes that I feel all the way down to the bottom of my soul.