“Yes, Rose, it was all you two ever did. And I was done. The longer answer is, after you took off that day, after I said what I said, I had words with my brother. He suspected how I felt, and said some shit. So I hit him, then went inside and packed my stuff. I lost both of you that day, but only mourned the loss of one.”
It was too much. The honesty, the recollections. The room felt like it was closing in on me—the air suddenly feeling thick and humid.
The look in my eyes must have told him I was about to slide off the arm of the couch just to get some distance between us, because he reached his arms up and pulled me into his lap, securing his muscular, tattoo-covered arms around my waist.
“You can’t run again, Rose. This time I won’t let you. I’m here, and I’m all in. I want you. I want this.”
“What about what I want?” I whispered, my voice strained and breathy. The room still felt stifling, as though a spotlight was turned on and shining directly above me, the heat radiating from the bulb. But there wasn’t, and all the heat I was feeling was generating from my body. I could feel the warmth blazing from my flesh, and whenever I was hot, the shade of my skin took on a rosy red hue.
Cain’s eyes dipped from mine, dragging down my body before settling his gaze in my lap. He moved his hands to my wrist and pulled off the black elastic I had wrapped around it. Taking the band, he stretched it around one set of his fingers and lifted both hands to my hair, scooping the wavy brunette tendrils up and securing them in a very messy bun on top of my head.
A small section of my outgrown bangs fell free, and he pushed it behind my ear. “If you don’t want this, Rose, if you don’t wantme, then I’ll respect that and back off. But I think you’re just afraid.”
“I’m not afraid, Cain. I just don’t want to make the same mistake twice. You might think I’m holding a grudge, or I’m afraid, or whatever it is you’re thinking, but what I’m thinking is that the only person I wholly trusted and thought would always be there for me, hurt me. And yes, they’re just words, but that ‘words can never hurt me’ shit? They were wrong, Cain. Your words hurt me, and I’ve healed from it and have forgiven you, but like I’ve already told you, I can’t just forget so easily.”
“Why are you so against me trying to make it up to you?” he asked, looking at me with a glint of sadness in his eyes.
A pang in my chest hit me suddenly. It hurt me to see him hurt.
For several tense seconds, we sat in silence, me staring down at my hands as they sat in my lap, and Cain staring, well, at me.
“We’re going in circles, Cain.”
“I told you, I wo—”
“Iknow, you won’t share me with another man—with Sly. And I get it. I don’t think I’d be much up for sharing either, but for now, that’s the only way you’ll get me. So the ball’s back in your court. You either get cool with the fact that I will continue to see Sly until I decide if thisthingbetween us issomething, or you don’t get me at all.”
Cain growled, an exasperated vibration pushing through his chest and out into a huff of breath. “And that’s the only way?”
I nodded. “For now.”
“And if Ishareyou with him, you’ll let me prove I’m the better man for you? Theonlyfucking man for you?”
Slowly, I looked up, and our eyes met. “Yes,” I told him simply, then waited for his response as a mix of fear, curiosity, and an emotion I hadn’t felt toward Cain in a long time—hope—swirled in my chest.
His nostrils flared as he let out a breath through his nose, clearly dealing with conflicting emotions himself. He searched my face, his lips curling inward for a moment while he thought. I practically stopped breathing when he finally, albeit a little curtly, said, “I’ll do it.”
And I couldn’t help the little smile that curled my lips upward, those words sounding like music to my ears.
My cake never tasted so sweet.
CHAPTERTEN
Roars of engines penetrated through the crisp night sky as I killed my ignition and used my foot to engage the kickstand. Pulling my helmet off, I ran my fingers through my matted hair, placing the helmet on the seat before pulling the elastic from my wrist and tying my hair back.
Within seconds, my brothers rolled up and joined me at The Bend—a large patch of dirt alongside the highway meant for truckers to pull off on, now used as a meeting point by the Sinners when we were on the road.
As the engines cut and the noise ceased, one by one they hopped off their bikes and came to stand near me. A few lit up cigs, while most just waited patiently for a briefing.
When they were all in front of me, I spoke. “I heard from Duquette about an hour ago. Another college girl was roofied last night, this time at Indigo Renegade. He left her in the alleyway, half naked and beaten.”
“He’s getting more violent,” King said, stating the fucking obvious.
“And he’s obviously a serial rapist,” Nixon chimed in.
The men began to grumble amongst themselves, speculation of where he might hit next as the forefront of their conversation.
Behind me, the sun was below the horizon—the daylight fading quickly. I needed to assign them their positions and get my men in place to be eyes and ears for the night, so we could find this guy. Clearing my throat to signal I was about to speak again, I quickly made a list of the bars he hadn’t hit yet. Not having eyes at Indigo Renegade last night had been a mistake, and I wasn’t willing to make another.
