Page 6 of Broken Soul

“Thank you for sharing a piece of yourself with me,” she whispers. I can’t quite comprehend her words.She’s thanking me for dumping part of my past on her?“You don’t have to be alone in the darkness. I’ll sit with you.”

I flip my hand over and weave our fingers together. She squeezes my fingers, causing me to look up at her. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I see my own pain reflecting in her ice-blue gaze. How can she knock down the walls I've strategically built over a lifetime with just one look?

Clearing my throat, I untangle my hand from hers and wipe it down my face. I stand from my chair and gather up the now empty plates, needing some space. The moment is too intense. I'm vulnerable and exposed, feeling raw and fragile, and every weak thing I hate about myself.

I’m about to walk away when Odette reaches out for me again, her hand resting on my forearm. “It takes a strong person to stare into the vastness of hate and fear and still find enough hope to wake up every morning. You may think you’re weak, but I see someone who fights his demons and still manages to be a safe place for someone like me.”

I blink away what can’t possibly be tears, unable to process everything she just said. How did she know what I was thinking? Am I that obvious or is she just that observant?

“Someone like you?” I ask after getting myself somewhat under control.

Odette shrugs and withdraws her hand from my arm. I don’t like it. I find that I always want her to touch me in some way.

“Desperate. A lost cause. Helpless. I literally have nothing and you’ve fed me, put a roof over my head, and given me a job. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

“You give me everything just by being here.”

I’m just as shocked at my words as Odette is. Her jaw drops as her brows draw together in disbelief. I’m right there with her.What the hell did I say that for?

I cough and mumble something as I turn and make my way to the sink to soak the dishes. “I’ll get changed and then we’ll head to the garage, okay?” I don’t wait for her response. I clearly can’t control myself around Odette. What if I open my big dumb mouth and say something ridiculous like I love her and want her to be my wife?

Jesus, I’m losing it.

Twenty minutes later, Odette and I are walking through the back door of the mechanic shop. I get her set up in my office to organize things for her first day. I won’t make her talk to the customers until day two or three.

Truthfully, the thought of any of my MC brothers staring at her, let alone touching her… Fuck me, I've never felt an obsession like this before. I want to keep my princess all to myself, but I know that will never happen. It can't. I'm no good for someone as precious as Odette. It's only a matter of time before she finds out how messed up I am. I couldn't live with myself if I hurt her in any way, and I know I'd just disappoint Odette over and over. It seems to be the one constant in my life.

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I comb a hand through my hair and tug at the strands. I let out a deep breathand make my way to the garage to do a final inspection of the custom brass-finished bike that’s being picked up today.

I make it all of thirty seconds before my mind wanders to Odette and her long blonde hair, curvy figure, and perceptive blue eyes that seem to pick me apart piece by piece with one look. It’s only half-past nine in the morning but I can’t focus on anything other than Odette.It’s going to be a long-ass day.

4

ODETTE

Aloud roar rips me from my sleep, making my heart race as I frantically look around for the source of the sound. The room is pitch black aside from the dim light of the moon and stars peeking through the sheer curtain hanging from the window.

I don’t hear anything at first. I’m half convinced I made it up when another agonizing cry shatters the silence. I’m on my feet in two seconds, dashing toward Diesel’s room.Did someone break in? Did Diesel hurt himself? Is he angry about something?

My questions come to a screeching halt when I open the bedroom door and see Diesel in the midst of an awful night terror. His movements are jerky as he fights his way through whatever traumatic scene is in front of him at the moment.

Approaching him carefully, I sit on the edge of the bed, hoping to comfort him. Diesel sits straight up, his bare chest heaving with the effort of gulping down air. I rest my palm over his racing heart, bringing Diesel out of the fog a bit.

“You’re at home,” I whisper. “In your bed. Whatever nightmare you were having is over now.”

Diesel places his much larger hand over mine, curling his fingers around it and squeezing as if he’s hanging on for dear life. In this moment, I truly believe he is.

“I’m right here with you,” I continue in a quiet, calming voice. “You’re safe.”

The feral look in his eyes softens with each passing second until Diesel blows out a breath and finally stops shaking. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his voice scratchy from yelling in his sleep. “You shouldn’t have to see that. I shouldn’t… I’m… I’m sorry,” he repeats.

I can tell his head is still spinning, and I look around the bedside table for any anxiety meds. I always keep mine next to me at night in case I have bad dreams or flashbacks. I understand what he’s going through more than he knows. It hurts, watching him hurt.

“Do you take any medication for anxiety or night terrors?” I ask. Diesel tips his chin toward his dresser, where I see a prescription pill bottle. I grab it and hand the medicine to Diesel, who pops two pills and sets the bottle aside.

He closes his eyes and takes a few more calming breaths while I sit on the bed, facing him. “Sorry,” he says again, this time with more than a little shame in his voice. “I was hoping this wouldn’t happen while you were here.”

“I’m glad it did,” I say before realizing how that might sound. Diesel raises an eyebrow and I quickly explain myself further. “I mean, I’m not happy that you experience nightmares. But if you had to have one, I’m glad I was here.”

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