Page 43 of Beautiful Ruins
I knew Sadie’s head had to be as full as mine. Of what we’d said to each other, but more so, what we hadn’t.
What she didn’t know was that my guilt over Logan’s death was eating through every good thing I touched—my patch, my club, and now her. One day soon, I’d have to tell her about the messages Logan had sent before he died. The ones I’d buried along with him.
And when she found out, I wouldn’t blame her if she never looked at me the same again.
Chapter Thirteen
SADIE
Rowan pulled the Harley into his driveway and kicked the stand down. Before he’d even killed the engine, I scrambled off the bike and yanked the helmet from my head. Heat engulfed my entire body, and I sucked in breath after breath. It did nothing to control the way my legs trembled beneath me.
He’d just claimed me. In. Front. Of. Everyone.
Was he kidding me?
Anger and hormones were locked in a death match, and the hormones were cheating. That still didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed.
He finally cut the engine and swung his leg over the seat. He leaned against the bike like he had all night, all week, all year—arms crossed, jaw loose, cool as sin while I stood there unravelling. The silence engulfed us, the night noises from the bush at the back of our houses the only sound.
I launched the helmet at him, slamming it into his chest with as much force as I could muster. It hit with a dull thud, but Rowan didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. All hedid was smirk like this was all some big joke, his large hands wrapping around the edges.
Even the moon was mocking me. It cast just enough light to catch the spark in his eyes and the sharp curve of his cheekbones. Stupid, good-looking bastard.
“You can glare at me all you like, Firefly,” he said, planting the helmet on the seat behind him without turning. “Doesn’t change a thing. You need to stay away from all of this—Snake, the clubhouse, the mess you’re walking into.”
Really? He was going to use his nickname for me during this time of . . . whatever it was?
“Seriously? You still aren’t going to help me?” I rubbed my eyes. “You’ve completely lost it. I had Snake wrapped around my finger until you decided to play caveman.” My voice trembled, that crack betraying the anger I was trying so hard to hide behind. But who was I kidding? I was a complete mess.
Rowan stared, those damn honey-coloured eyes of his peeling back every lie I tried to tell myself. “I’m keeping you safe,” he said, running a hand through his hair, the loose curls falling back over his forehead.
Bloody hell. I just wanted to run my hands through it and tug his lips to mine again. Why? Why did he kiss me? He was blowing up the fragile peace I’d barely managed to scrape together.
His Harley glinted in the moonlight behind him, the night closing in around us. The phantom press of his lips still lingered on mine like a bruise. Only this time it was a bruise I didn’t want to fade. Not that I would have admitted that to him out loud. Especially not now.
So much for keeping me at arm’s length. He’d just wrapped me up in a pretty red bow and dropped me centre stage for everyone to glare at. Never thought I’d see the day where Ibecame Rowan Knight’s old lady. I cringed at the term of endearment, but it’s what had stuck for years.
His plan was reckless. Bold. What got people hurt. Or worse. Maybe even more dangerous than bluffing Snake with nothing but an attitude and a fake smile. It left me dizzy, vulnerable.
I wanted to scream at him, tell him he didn’t have the right to decide what was safe for me. I’d been on my own for six years, and he didn’t get to claim I was his like no time had passed between us. Who was I to argue? We were playing pretend, but my heart hadn’t received the memo. It still beat just for him like he’d hung the goddamn moon, and some pathetic part of me was throwing pom-poms, because somewhere deep down, I’d always wanted to be his.
Worst of all, though, was the fact I had no idea what being someone’s old lady even meant. Did I have to be at meetings? Cook dinner for a crew of bikers every night? I almost scoffed. That was never going to happen, so how the hell were we going to make this . . . fake relationship work?
Had Rowan even thought about that before he sucked my soul from my body with one single—but toe curling—kiss?
He stepped away from the bike, close enough to taunt me, but just out of reach like he knew I was itching to land a punch. God, I wanted to.
“Sadie.” My name on his lips sent a shiver racing over me, and I hated how much that one word could affect me.
I shook my head. “Just stay out of my head, Rowan. I’ve already made that mistake once.” I turned away, forcing my legs to move when all I wanted was to bolt, to sprint until the burn in my chest drowned out his voice.
The night felt thicker than it had minutes ago, like even the shadows were creeping closer just to listen. I kept moving, thegravel crunching under my black ankle boots, the same way it had when I made a run for it all those years ago.
I kept my eyes on my front door, but my mind kept circling back to that damn kiss. To the way his lips moulded to mine perfectly. To the way he’d crashed through every wall I’d built up over the years. I wanted to pretend it didn’t mean anything, that it didn’t turn everything I felt for him into a jumbled mess. But that lie fell flat before it even formed.
“I’ve been back a week,” I shouted over my shoulder. “And you’re already turning everything upside down like you never stopped. Stop screwing with my life.”
“Trying to keep you in it,” he called back, like the smug bastard he was. “Think you can handle that?”
