Page 39 of Bozo

I roll off her, staring up at the ceiling as I breathe heavily. For a moment, we just lie here in silence, the only sound our ragged breaths slowly returning to normal. I turn my head to look at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and tousled hair. She looks incredibly beautiful.

Guilt wells up in my stomach. She’s perfect, pure, un-fucking-touchable, and I’ve just fucked her like a damn animal. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Well," she says finally, a small smile playing on her lips. "That was amazing."

"It was," I agree, knowing that it was beyond that. Gráinne has always been the person I’ve wanted but never let myself have. She deserves the best from life. She deserves to be loved and cherished. Neither are things I can give her.

“So,” she says softly. “What happens now?”

Fuck. What the hell do I do now?

“Sunshine,” I begin, turning to face her. I watch as her expression falls, and within seconds, it’s completely closed off. “We’ve got so much shit going on?—”

She nods. “I get it,” she says, her voice a hell of a lot cooler than it had been. “We’re friends. We don’t want to fuck that up.”

Fuck. Why the hell does it hurt having her say those words to me, even though it was what I wanted, what I had planned on saying?

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. Fuck, how the hell have we fucked this up already? "Gráinne, I?—"

"It's fine, Connor," she cuts me off, sitting up and pulling the sheet around her body. "Really. We got caught up in the moment. It happens."

But I can see the hurt in her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. And it kills me, knowing I put that pain there. I reach out to touch her arm, but she flinches away.

"Don't," she says softly. "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be." She sits up straighter, wrapping the sheet tighter around herself. "You should go."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Her words hang heavy in the air between us. I should go. I know I should. It's what she wants, what would be easiest. But something keeps me rooted to the spot. She’s been my best friend since we were kids. When things got bad, she was my only constant. I can’t fucking walk away and ruin everything.

My cell begins to ring from the pocket of my jeans. Gritting my teeth, I reach for it, pulling on my jeans as I answer it. “Yeah?”

“You’re wanted back at the clubhouse,” Preacher says in a way of greeting. He doesn’t wait for me to respond; he just ends the call.

I stare at Gráinne. She’s watching me with a cold expression. She knows I have to leave. Hell, she’s practically throwing me out. But I’m a prospect, and when the Fury Vipers MC calls me, I come running, as that’s what a prospect does.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration coursing through me. "Gráinne, I have to go. Club business."

She nods, her face a mask of indifference. "Of course. The club always comes first, right?"

Her words sting, but I can't deny their truth. The club does come first. It has to. But that doesn't mean she doesn't matter to me.

"This isn't over," I say, my voice low and intense. "We need to talk about this."

She turns away, her shoulders hunched. "There's nothing to talk about, Connor. Just go."

I want to argue, to make her understand, but the clock is ticking. I can't keep the club waiting. With a growl of frustration, I finish dressing, shoving my feet into my boots.

At the door, I pause, looking back at her. She's still sitting on the bed, the sheet wrapped around her like a shield. "Gráinne," I say softly.

She looks up, and for a moment, I see the vulnerability in her eyes before she masks it. "What?"

"I'll be back," I promise. "We're not done here."

She doesn't respond, just turns her head away again. With a heavy heart, I leave, closing the door behind me. This is beyond fucked up. Everything is a fucking mess.

As I walk out of her apartment and into the frosty night, I feel like the biggest asshole in the world. I've just fucked up the best thing in my life, and for what? Because I'm too much of a coward to admit how I really feel?

I notice that my bike’s sitting out front. I must thank Jer for sorting that out for me. When he called me earlier to say that Grá was at his house and she’d just found out her dad was dead, I knew I’d find her in a bad way. Reading that letter gutted her. She may have hated him at times, but he was her dad. He was a man that she loved deeply.

I climb onto my bike, the familiar rumble of the engine doing nothing to calm the storm in my head. As I ride toward the clubhouse, I can't shake the image of Gráinne's hurt expression. I've known her my whole life, been there for her through everything, and now I've gone and fucked it all up.

---