I was in the living room and, weirdly, so was his bed. It was at the wall to the back of the room, but there were two doors on the side of the living room and I figured at least one must be a bedroom. There was a couch shoved up against the side wall, but it was covered in boxes. There was also an old TV on a stand about two feet from the foot of the bed. There was one nightstand with a lamp on it, a bunch of change, packets of condoms, and that was it. No other furniture. No dressers. No bookshelves.
Nothing.
It was somewhat tidy considering any space filled with boxes wasn’t exactly tidy. It was also surprisingly clean. What it wasn’t was a home. Not even close to it. Not even a bachelor pad.
It looked like it was just a place to crash on occasion and store stuff.
This made me feel uneasy.
What didn’t make me feel uneasy was when Shy walked back into the room with his biker grace, his chest on display.
The instant I saw him, I pushed to my knees and moved to the edge of the bed.
Shy, his eyes on me, his face soft, did exactly what I wanted him to. He moved right to me.
I slid my arms around him and pressed my lips to his chest.
He curved a hand around one side of my neck, the other hand he glided up into my hair to curl around the back of my head.
There it was again, that feeling.
Loved.
Right.
I took my lips from his skin and put my chin there, seeing the “Love dies” tattoo.
I’d seen the two tats he had on the insides of his forearms and I’d suspected, like all the brothers, he had the Chaos emblem on his back. These three tats all the brothers had, the two Shy had inked into his forearms the brothers put wherever they wanted. The emblem on his back, all the guys had on their backs. They got the back tat the minute the Club voted them into full membership.
Having never seen his chest, I’d never seen the only tattoo he seemed to have outside the Chaos ones.
“Love dies?” I asked quietly, my gaze lifting to his.
His hand twisted gently in my hair even as his fingers at my neck dug in slightly, and he broke my heart when he replied quietly back, “Had a mom and dad I loved, they died. Had an uncle I loved who didn’t shield us from that bitch and that love died too. One night, I was seventeen, listenin’ to them fight, her bitchin’ yet a-fuckin’-gain about how they had two more mouths to feed, two more bodies to clothe so they couldn’t go to Hawaii or whatever the fuck, and I knew the next day her mood was gonna fuck up my week because she always took that shit out on him first, then on us. He didn’t take our backs during the fight, and I knew he wouldn’t take our backs the next day. That night, my love died for him. I was holdin’ on but it slipped away. I had a fake ID to buy booze so I snuck out the window and went to an all-night tattoo place.” He lifted a hand to indicate the tattoo. “Had this inked on me.”
My eyes moved to the tattoo but went back to Shy, and I leaned away a bit when he bent slightly.
His face got close and he continued, “I was young, pissed, and stupid, sugar. I don’t believe that shit anymore. But ink is ink, it doesn’t fade away. Unfortunately, it reminds me of a shitty time in my life every time I see it.” He grinned. “It also reminds me not to do anything permanently stupid because I’m pissed.”
I grinned back. “Good lesson to learn.”
His grin faded and he muttered, “Not sure I learned it.”
I knew what he was saying so I whispered, “Shy, don’t. We both fucked up and, obviously, it wasn’t permanent.”
He touched his forehead to mine and sighed before he ordered, “Shift, Tabby. I’m climbin’ in.”
I shifted. Shy climbed in then he claimed me. Resting with his head on the pillows, he tugged me over his body and turned so he was on his side, his body curled at the waist and knees and my hips were cradled in his lap, thighs over his hip, my back to the bed, head to the pillow. Shy came up on an elbow, head in hand and aimed his eyes at me.
“Rosalie,” he muttered.
Oh crap.
I braced and his gaze moved over my face even as his hand hit my belly and slid across, pulling me in and tucking me closer to his body.
He kept talking, “Until about an hour ago, we were seein’ each other. Now we are not.”
“Shy—” I started and his hand at the side of my waist gave me a squeeze.
“Let me finish, baby.” When I shut my mouth, he went on, “It was unpleasant, for her it came outta the blue and she was not pissed. She was hurt. Pissed I can deal with, hurt’s a lot harder. It sucked. It’s over. She’s sweet, nice, pretty, she’ll find someone else.”
“Um…” I began hesitantly, “being honest, although it’s good to know you had that conversation with her before we, uh… officially started things, I have to admit I’m not real sure you being equipped to scrape her off at the drop of a hat fills me with joy.”
“I get that, Tab. What you don’t get is, she isn’t you,” he returned, and I blinked, then my belly warmed.
When I said nothing, he gave me another squeeze and went on.
“By the end of our conversation, she admitted she’d wondered about you and me. The time I spent with you. When I’d walk away from her to take calls from you. How you disappeared for a month and I was in a shitty mood that whole month. None of this I hid from her. I knew where my head was at about you but I had no clue your head would ever go there. Seein’ as I knew how I felt about you, bottom line, I dicked her over. It was uncool. I gotta live with that. You in my tee in my bed, I think will help.”
“That’s kinda cold, Shy.”
“It’s cold but it’s real, and it’s better that shit is done for her, for me, and for you so we can all move on, rather than me draggin’ it out in a pointless effort to cushion the blow for her that, in the end, would only make shit even shittier.”
“Yes, but you and I are moving on to something that’s good and, obviously, since it lasted a while for you two, when she started it with you, she thought she was moving onto something good too,” I pointed out.
“I saw you,” he replied, and my head tipped on the pillow as I felt my brows inch together.
“Pardon?”
“With that guy outside DCPA. You were wearin’ a red dress.”
My heart squeezed, I felt my eyes get big and I stared at him.
I remembered that night. That was the night Jason took me to see Les Mis.
“You saw me?” I asked.
“You were alone, looked beautiful but lost. You saw him, he got to you, you leaned into him, kissed him, made him laugh and then he kissed you. I saw it. All of it.”
Wow, he really did see this, and he remembered it better than I did until he just reminded me.
I didn’t know what to make of this or the reminder of Jason when I hadn’t thought of him once. Not once. Not once since Shy stormed into my apartment.
Before I could make anything of it, Shy kept talking.
“Didn’t like it,” he stated.
Not keeping up, I asked, “Didn’t like what?”
“Seein’ you with another guy. Didn’t like it.”
My hand slid up his arm at my waist and I whispered, “Shy, honey, I don’t—”
“I had the taste of you in my mouth, so sweet, for four years. Your grudge and you hatin’ me made that taste as bitter as it was sweet. Didn’t get it, what I was feelin’, not until I heard you were gettin’ hitched. Then I knew I was gone for you. Don’t know how it happened, just know it did. Seein’ you with another guy cut deep. Then you lost him, and I felt that for you. Even removed, I felt it. And when you called me, I realized if I didn’t get my shit together it would be empty pussy and parties for the rest of my life, and I’d never have a woman who was lost without me.” His hand moved from my waist to frame the side of my face, and his voice got quiet when he said, “Just to be clear, the point of findin’ that is not makin’ a woman be lost without me like Rosalie will be for a while until she moves on. The point of findin’ that is to have that feeling, be able to give that gift, to work at keepin’ it good so my woman never feels lost because she knows she’ll never be without me.”