Page 15 of My Dream

“Buy the food. The groceries. The clothes.” She hesitated, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “It’s not like I asked you to. I just… I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

I turned to face her fully and rested my arm on the steering wheel. “Fallon, look at me.”

She raised her eyes reluctantly.

“You’re not taking advantage of me. You didn’t ask me for anything. I offered because I wanted to.” My voice softened. “If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t.”

Her lips twitched like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

“Besides, the club paid for the groceries. Thank Yarder.” I had bought the shit she had wanted, but it hadn’t been more than fifty dollars.

We finished the rest of the food, and I crumpled the wrappers into the empty bag. Fallon did the same and passed it to me. “I can run that to the garbage can if you want.”

I leveled my gaze at her. “We can throw it away when we get back to the clubhouse.”

“Right, right,” she muttered. “Forgot about the bad guys trying to kill us.”

“Most people wouldn’t forget something like that, Fallon.” I started the truck and headed toward the clubhouse.

We were stopped at a stoplight when she said, “You’re not what I expected, you know.”

I arched a brow. “What does that mean?”

“Just… most guys I’ve known wouldn’t do half of what you’ve done without expecting something in return.”

The light turned green, and I hit the gas, pulling us forward down the open road. “Sounds like you’ve known some shitty men.”

Fallon shrugged like she was brushing it off, but her voice told me otherwise. “Maybe I have.”

I glanced over at her briefly. “Was Clay one of those?”

She stiffened a little, and her eyes flicked to the window.

Clay. The asshole ex-fiancé.

Fallon hadn’t told us much about him, but what little I knew made me want to knock his teeth in. I wasn’t usually one to fly off the handle, but the guy seemed like the type who deserved it.

“Clay was one of them,” she admitted. “And the last one.”

“How long were you two together?” I asked. My voice was a little rougher than I’d meant it to be.

Her gaze stayed locked on the window as if the answer was painted in the trees flashing past us. “Two years.”

“And you guys were going to get married?”

“That was the plan,” she said flatly, her tone void of any emotion. “I was going to climb the political ladder, and Clay was going to be the hotshot news reporter.” She finally looked over at me, her mouth tilting into a humorless smile. “The problem is Clay has a temper and can’t handle someone else doing better than him. Me included.”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, and the leather creaked under my palm. “I already want to beat the hell out ofthis guy, Fallon.” My voice came out low, a growl. I wasn’t sure if what she was about to tell me would add fuel to that fire, but I had a feeling it would.

She let out a heavy sigh like it was exhausting to even think about. “He never actually put his hands on me, Compass.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” I snapped. “Threatening you is just as bad as hitting you. Hell, it would’ve been premeditated if he ever acted on it.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to let that happen.” She turned back to the window, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “I watched my mom bounce from one loser to another my whole life. I knew the signs to look for. The problem with Clay was he was really damn good at hiding the monster inside him. Love-bombed the hell out of me until he asked me to marry him.” Her voice grew quieter, but I could still hear every word. “It all changed when I got the job working for Russ. I was going up in my career, and Clay was staying in the same spot.”

I scoffed and shook my head as I turned left. “So, let me get this straight—he was mad at you because he sucked?” I let out a dry laugh. “What a douche.”

That got a laugh out of her. “I wouldloveto see you say that to Clay’s face. He’d probably short-circuit. He likes to surround himself with yes-people.”

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