Page 71 of So Steady

“Oh.” Nicole had subconsciously hoped it was drugs or theft or a non-violent crime, but if she was honest with herself, she’d suspected it was something like this. Noah’s menace wasn’t artificial—she’d known that from day one. He was hard in a way she’d never seen in another man. She remembered the paintings hanging in his house. How could one man contain such contradictions?

“Do you want to know what happened?”

No, but if she didn’t hear it, her imagination would fill in the gaps, probably making it ten times worse. “Okay.”

“I kicked the shit out of one of our guys for talking to the cops. Dad’s idea. He thought I was young enough to get away with a suspended sentence.” He snorted. “I was young enough to believe that bullshit and that’s about it. Barely left the guy’s house before I was arrested.”

Nicole could barely swallow. She kept her eyes locked on the road, the grey tarmac, the rushing white lines. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-one.”

Nicole pictured herself at twenty-one, living at home, finishing her last year at uni, trying to eat less fried chicken. “How was jail?”

He shrugged and, perhaps remembering he’d agreed to discuss his past, added, “Boring.”

“You didn’t get beaten up or anything?”

“Nah, people knew who I was.”

Of course, men would hardly have been lining up to take a swing at the son of a biker boss. She tried to imagine Noah behind bars and found it surprisingly easy; he’d have had a rounder face, less tattoos and adult muscles beginning to drape themselves over his arms and chest. She smiled, imagining him doing push-ups and chin-ups in his cell, then remembered how he’d got there—assaulting someone for talking to the police. She glanced sideways at his profile and squirmed at how bluntly, viscerally, attracted to him she was. What did that say about her? About both of them?

Maybe he sensed her discomfort because he added, “I regret it. All the ugly shit I did.”

“Do you? Even though you miss being in the club?”

“Yeah, I don’t miss the life, I miss feeling like…” He broke off with a shake of his shoulders. Nicole was reminded of a duck, ruffling its feathers after a fight. She waited, trusting him to speak.

Noah sighed. “It sounds like horseshit, but before I got locked up, I didn’t know any better. Everything that went on at the club was normal to me. Then I got locked up and realised none of that loyalty, blood oath, brotherhood shit mattered. I was responsible for my life and I didn’t fucking like my life. So, I changed it.”

Nicole opened her mouth to say something then closed it.

“You think I’m scum, don’t you?”

“No! No, I promise, it’s just confusing.”

“What’s confusing?”

She exhaled, trying to loosen her chest. If she’d learned anything from spending time with Noah, it was that there was no point in softening your words. “I like you and I’m attracted to you, but what you did is scary and I have no idea what to think about it.”

“Sure.”

Silence fell, breathing like a living thing. Had she said the wrong thing? Had she utterly screwed this up?

It doesn’t matter, Sam reminded her.It was the truth. You’re not judging him, but you’re allowed to be unsure.

Ten minutes passed and she started to feel the after-effects of the coffee. She fought the sensation for another half-hour, but when it became clear Noah wasn’t going to say anything or stop the car for some unrelated reason, she cleared her throat. “I have to go to the bathroom. For real this time.”

“I’ll pull over at the next place.”

Five minutes later they pulled into a petrol station, this one shiny-new and plastered with ads for Snickers and energy drinks.

“I’m gonna fill up,” Noah said without looking at her. “Want anything?”

“I’m good,” she said, making a beeline for the bathroom. She performed her ablutions, then stood in front of the mirror, finger-combing her hair. Despite her lack of makeup, she looked okay. Better than okay. Her eyes were bright and there was a glow to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the CC cream.

“Stop it,” she told her reflection. “He’s an ex-biker. He’s been tojail.”

But that seemed abstract, blurry in the face of the man who’d bought her coffee. Did it matter that Noah had an ugly past if he regretted it?

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