Page 92 of Sinful
"That's nothing. I ride farther than that for breakfast sometimes."
I laugh—can't help it. "But you travel. You're on the road constantly. That's what Nomads do."
"Yeah. Which means I wouldn't suffocate you by being around all the time." He reaches over, takes my hand. "I get it, Helle. You need space. Need freedom. Need to not feel trapped. And I can give you that. But when I'm not on the road?—"
"You'd come to me. Or I'd come to you."
"Yeah. We'd figure it out."
I turn the idea over in my mind.
It could actually work.
He'd be gone enough that I wouldn't feel smothered.
But present enough that I wouldn't feel abandoned.
And we'd both be in Texas.
Close enough to matter. Far enough to breathe.
"What about Phantom?" I ask. "Last night you said he's not happy about this."
His jaw tightens. "Phantom doesn't control my personal life."
"But he controls your club life. And if being with me means problems for Shotgun Saints?—"
"It won't. Because you're not asking me to leave Texas. You're not pulling me away from the club." He squeezes my hand. "If anything, I'd be home more. Around Sharp more. Actually present instead of constantly on the road running from shit."
"You think he'll see it that way?"
"Eventually. He's stubborn, but he's not stupid. He'll understand that this—you—you make me better. Not worse."
I want to believe that.
I want to believe that this broken Nomad and this broken racer can somehow make something whole together.
"So, we're doing this?" I ask. "For real?"
"For real. No running. We see where this goes."
"I'm still leaving Florida as soon as Dad's stable."
"I know. I'm still leaving in a few days too."
"But we'll—what? Call each other? Meet up?"
"Yeah. And more than that." His voice is rough with emotion. "I want to try. Actually try. Not just hook up when it's convenient. I want—fuck, I want you to be mine. And I want to be yours."
Tears prick my eyes. "That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"It's also the dumbest. We barely know each other."
"I know you well enough." I set my coffee down, cup his face in my hands. "I know you followed me into hell. I know you fight like a demon and kiss like you're trying to save me. I know you've been dead inside for eighteen years and somehow I make you feel alive." I kiss him softly.
We kiss until the coffee gets cold.
Eventually, we have to face reality.
