Page 53 of The Trust We Broke
But, slowly, with Butcher’s help, I found a way to move through the grief of it.
Maybe it hardened me. Turned me into who I became.
Because the day I saved Butcher’s life, when I leapt in front of him so they would get me instead of him, I was ready to die.
When I didn’t, I realized I’d been given a second chance.
Thanks to my lawyer, I got compensation for the attack, which provided a nice nest egg for when I got out. And it made me realize I shouldn’t let a woman who no longer wanted me dictate if I lived or died.
And that was the day I stopped thinking about Lucy De Bose.
Intentionally, at least.
But in the middle of the night, when the dreams came, or first thing in the morning, when the sun warmed my face through a crack in the curtains, I could almost imagine her riding on top of me. Loved nothing more than the way it felt when the sun turned her hair the color of sun-kissed wheat and she looked down at me with a smile meant just for me.
Her arms loosen around my waist, and for a second, she forgets who we are and remembers who we were. Lucy’s arms go out to the side, and she flies like an airplane as I hug the corners.
There’s a naturalness to her movements. I felt it the first time she got on the back of my bike. Like she understood the laws of physics or something.
With Lucy taking tenancy of the bakery, I wonder if she’s intending on setting down roots.
If she is, Butcher’s guidance is even more vital. If I’m going to see her more often, I might need to make sure the air is cleared between us.
When we pull up outside, I park the bike and offer her my hand as she tries to get off. But I guess she’s stiffened from the fall and struggles to move. She’s also shivering, and I feel like an ass for not giving her my thick and insulated leather jacket.
“Stay there,” I say, climbing off first. “Keys.”
“I can get off the damn bike. I was just out of practice, that’s all.” She leans forward, placing both of her palms on my seat to shift forward awkwardly.
“Fuck’s sake, Luce. Just give me the goddamn keys.”
“Fine,” she snaps, and pulls the key out of the zip pocket in the back of her running tights.
“Thank you,” I say sarcastically, before striding to the door to unlock it. Once it’s open, I return to the bike and slide my hands beneath her.
“What the heck are—Zach…put me down.”
Quinn’s nose appears at the bakery window, and she grins.
I lift my middle finger to her, and she grins even harder.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
“You already said that,” Lucy says. But her head flops into the crook of my neck.
Without another word, I march as I carry her to the apartment door. Everything about having her in my arms makesme forget I’m the president of a motorcycle club. That I have responsibilities to my men. It’s like she’s a magic eraser for everything else in my life.
The door slams when I kick it shut with my heel.
“You don’t need to carry me up the stairs. I can manage.”
Finally, I look down at her as I take the first step. “Don’t make me tell you to shut up.” There’s a bump growing on the side of her temple. “Why didn’t you tell me you hit the side of your head?”
She touches her temple and winces. “Because I didn’t really have a chance to take an inventory before you told me to get on the back of your bike.”
When I make it to the top of the stairs, I put her down for a moment so I can unlock the door. But I keep my arm around her waist while I do. “It’s not that bad. Honestly, a soak in the tub and a couple of painkillers, and I’ll be fine.”
“How about we just accept I’m staying? Because now that I know you hit your head while living here alone, I’m not leaving in case you got a concussion.”
