Page 15 of Broken Bonds

There was no need to get to know each other, especially not that deeply.

Besides, his comment about me not being his type still stung. His words had cut deep, but I also didn’t want to fall in love again. I didn’t want to be with someone who reminded me of Aidan. I didn’t need to be with another person who loved a bike more than a person.

But hadn’t his actions yesterday proven he may not be like Aidan? He’d forgotten about his bike, too focused on calming me down. Aidan would never do that. There was nothing in the world Aidan loved more than his stupid bike.

How fitting they’d both crashed and burned together, just like Romeo and Juliet.

“Whatever you say, princess.” Shaking his head, he backed out of the room and closed the door, leaving me alone once again. I heard him stumble back to bed, stubbing his toe on the wall. He cursed, and then everything went silent.

I was left to my thoughts and memories. Some memories I wished I could erase, but more than that, I wished they would just stop haunting me.

Aidan had beenperfect.

He had the curliest brown locks, and my fingers used to get lost in them all the time. His skin was tan from spending hours in the sun working on his bike. Eyes like liquid pools of honey shone every time he looked at me and his bike—the two things in the world he’d cared about.

He hadn’t been a stereotypical biker. He never wore those God-awful boots and black jeans. No—he wore protective gear. He did everything he was supposed to. He wore the best helmet money could buy, and the fireproof jacket, pants, and shoes. Helooked ridiculous when he did, but he wassafe. He even bought me a matching suit so we would look ridiculous together.

But it didn’t save him. It didn’t saveus.

I closed my eyes, seeing the accident happen in slow motion behind my eyelids. Why did he have to race that guy? Why did he have to die? Why did I survive the accident?

Those questions had burned in my mind for so long now—always on constant repeat. For two years, I had questioned myself every single day. For two years, every fucking day, I wished I had died right along with him.

I closed my eyes, curling the blanket around me. His smiling face filled my mind, becoming the only thing I could see.

When I woke up, the sun was streaming into my room, and it was hot—too hot. I was sweating again, but I hadn’t had another flashback. Something was wrong.

Getting out of bed quickly, I raced out of my room to check the thermostat, grimacing when I saw it was eighty degrees. We’d lost power. Just great.

I went into Ryan’s room, frowning at the sight of Ace. He was sprawled on Ryan’s bed, his foot sticking out of the covers, which were pulled over his head, and the pants he was wearing last night had been discarded near the bed. He was breathing deeply, completely unbothered by the heat. How

the fuck did he sleep while it was so damn hot?

“Wake up!” I threw a pillow at what I imagined would be his head.

“Go away,” he grunted, his voice husky with sleep. My belly tightened, hating the arousal I felt at his sleep-soaked voice.

“We’ve lost power.”

“Shit.” He stuck his head out of the covers. His eyes were darker than I had ever seen them before, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest at the sight of them. “You sure?” His voice was thick with sleep—in the sexy kind of way—melting my heart with the two words.

“It’s eighty degrees in the house, and the lights won’t turn on.” I threw my arms up into the air. “Yes, I’m sure!”

“Is it still raining?” We heard a huge rumble of thunder, and his question was answered. I grimaced and looked toward the slightly open curtains. The sun was still shining, but rain was pouring down and thunder was rumbling overhead—a sure sign it would be raining again tomorrow, or so the old wives tales said.

“Let’s do the sandbags before it’s too late, then we can figure out what to do about breakfast.” He nodded, stretching, yawning, and reaching for the sky before getting out of bed. In the morning light, I could see his chest was covered in light hair, and tattoos covered his bare skin. He wasn’t fat, but he didn’t have a six-pack either. He was toned but not in a body builder kind of way.

Just my type.

I fucking hated it.

Black lines danced along his skin in alluring patterns, over his shoulders, down his back, and down his biceps. I wanted to see what the words said on his rib cage, but I was interrupted by his annoyingly hot voice.

“I don’t think Ryan would approve.” I snapped my eyes up to his. He bent down to pick up the discarded sweatpants, and I realized he was only in his boxers. I quickly left the room, my cheeks growing warm in embarrassment.

Damn him.

Ace wasn’t anything like Aidan. He was the complete opposite. Where Aidan had the perfect washboard abs, Ace didnot. Where Aidan had a bare chest, Ace certainly did not. Ace was pure man, whereas Aidan had still been a boy.

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