“But it would touch me,” I countered. “How can it not when it’s so much a part of you?”
His jaw tensed, a flicker of frustration breaking through his calm façade. “You already touch me, so it’s only fair.”
I stood abruptly, putting a few paces between us, needing the distance to clear my thoughts. “This isn’t some poetic love story, Wade. This is real, and it’s dangerous. Your hands aren’t just rough from bar fights and bike handles, they’re... stained.” My voice cracked, and I hated the sound of my weakness.
Wade rose slowly, his towering frame shadowing mine. “I know what I’ve done,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I don’t expect you to understand it all. Hell, I don’t always like the man I see in the mirror. But I know one thing, Devlyn. I can’t lie to you. I won’t.”
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away. “What do you want from me, Wade? To accept this and pretend it doesn’t terrify me?”
“No,” he said, his hands finding my shoulders. His touch was firm, but not unkind. “I want you to see me, all of me, and knowthat every damn thing I do, I do for the people I care about. For my father’s memory. For this club. And now... for you.”
I looked up at him, his face inches from mine. I could see the lines of pain etched deep, the scars of choices made and paths taken. And yet, there was something unrelentingly human about him—this man who straddled both light and shadow.
“I need time,” I whispered, a plea more to myself than him.
“You take all the time you need,Chèr,” he answered, his lips brushing my forehead before he stepped back. “Just don’t take forever. I don’t think I could survive losing you.”
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my storm of thoughts and the undeniable truth that Wade Crawley had just laid his very soul at my feet.
Chapter Nineteen
On the back terrace, I stood, the humid air heavy with the scent of cypress and damp earth. My gaze drifted across the still bayou, reflecting the bruised purple of the twilight sky. Cypress trees, their moss-draped branches sighing softly, swayed in the gentle breeze, a rustling whisper against the deepening quiet.
It was peaceful here. Quiet.
The bayou had a way of holding secrets, its murky waters and tangled roots keeping truths tucked away from the prying eyes of the world. As I stared out into its expanse, my thoughts circled back to Wade like moths to flame—drawn to the man who had bared himself so completely, yet still cloaked in mystery. His words echoed in my mind, vibrating with a sincerity that both comforted and unsettled me.
I traced a finger along the wooden railing, its surface worn smooth by years of weather and hands seeking solace. This place, so far removed from the chaos of decisions and consequences, felt like a sanctuary. But peace was a fleetingthing. Slipping through my fingers each time Wade’s face surfaced in my mind.
For all his darkness, there was a light in him, faint but unyielding. A man fractured by his past, yet somehow whole in his convictions. He had asked me to see him, all of him—even the corners that frightened me. And despite the storm inside me, I couldn’t deny the pull to do just that.
A soft rustle drew my attention to the trees lining the bayou’s edge. The evening seemed alive, the air humming with the unseen movements of creatures hidden by shadow. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sound wash over me, grounding me. When I opened them again, the twilight had deepened, and the first stars began their timid dance across the sky.
Time.
I asked for time.
How much time did I need to untangle this knot of fear and hope? How long would it take me to weigh the risks against the possibility of something raw and true? I didn’t have an answer, but as the night enveloped me, I knew one thing — I had to be honest with myself, just as Wade had been with me.
Whatever path I chose, it had to start there.
“My son loves you very much, Devlyn,” Marabella said, stepping up beside me. “I know this isn’t easy for you. It wasn’t for me when I learned the truth either. I wanted to take a switch to that boy’s hide, but when I really thought about it, I knew he was doing the right thing.”
“How can you say that, Marabella?”
Holding up her hand to stop me, she continued, “I’m not saying I agree with everything my son does, but I do agree with helping people.”
“It’s more than that and you know it.”
“Devlyn, look at me.”
Turning, I faced the woman.
“Do you love my son?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed, turning away from her. “I thought I did. Everything was going great. Yeah, I was moody, throwing up and eating everything in sight, but we were finally getting along. I started to think that maybe I could have a life here with Wade, that New Orleans would be a fun place to raise the babies. But now, I don’t know. Now, every time he leaves, I’ll wonder, worry if he’s coming home. I won’t live like that, Marabella. I can’t.”
Marabella’s expression softened as she laid a hand on my shoulder. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Devlyn. Sometimes love isn’t about certainty; it’s about bravery. It’s about knowing the risks and still choosing to care.”
