Page 24 of Fire
I take his hand in mine and fight the urge to pull him into my arms. I gulp. “I’ll do everything I can to bring down the Reivers and make sure you’re safe so you can return to a normal life.”
His lip twists bitterly at the wordnormal. “Thank you.”
I know it’s time to let go of his hand, but I hold on to it. It feels too final.
You are leaving for a reason,I remind myself.
Reluctantly, I release his hand, and he swiftly turns and scoops up Delilah, who’d been sleeping on the couch, and rigidly walks to his bedroom.
The realization hits that I just let go of something I’ll never get back again.
“Evan, wait.”
The click of his door lock is his only answer.
I stare at his door for a long time, hoping he’ll come out. I’m not sure what I’ll do or say to him if he does, but that doesn’t stop me from waiting for him. When I realize Cyrus will be here in an hour and a half and I still have a shit load to do, I finally make myself walk away.
As I stow my belongings in my go bag, I realize I’ve never felt this way when leaving somewhere before. Like I was leaving something behind that I wouldn’t find another in the next place I end up. Desperately needing a distraction, I go over the security tech two more times until I’m completely satisfied it’s working as it should be.
To my annoyance, Cyrus arrives early, and after I drill him a couple of times to make sure he’s good enough at what he does to keep Evan safe, there’s nothing left to do but leave.
I grab my gear and head out. My boots hit the beige carpet in the hallway, and I swing around before Cyrus can shut the door on me, head straight for Evan’s bedroom door, and knock.
Nothing.
“Evan,” I rattle the door lightly.
Cyrus watches me, sizing up the situation, assessing if I’m a threat. I ignore him. “Evan, would you please open the goddamned door. There’s something I need to say to you.”
Still nothing, but I swear I can hear him breathing on the other side of the door.
I feel a light hand on my shoulder, and I spin around to see Cyrus holding up his hands. “Look, man, my brother says you’re his friend. In my book, that means you’re golden, but the guy behind that door is my responsibility now, and if he’s not wanting to come out to talk to you, it’s my job to tell you to move on.”
I want to get in Cyrus’s face and tell him Evan is none of his business and that he’s mine to protect, and then kick down the door so I can make Evan talk to me.
But I know Cyrus is right, and I can even dredge up some reluctant appreciation that Evan has a guard who’s taking his job as his protector seriously.
“I’ll get out of here,” I tell Cyrus. “Let me just tell him one more thing.”
Not caring that Cyrus is watching me, I turn back and put my hand on the door. “Evan, I’m going now. You don’t have to open the door, but before I leave, it’s my turn to apologize. I fucked up. I’m shit at goodbyes, but I want you to know that—” I take a deep breath. “—that I wasn’t lying—that you are the most perfect thing I’ve ever had in my life, and that’s why I have to leave.”
I turn and lock eyes with Cyrus. “Take care of him or else,” I order and stride out the door.
Chapter 8
Luca
I’m drunk; I’m in a bar, and I can’t stop thinking about Evan.
I wonder what he’s doing and if he’s still upset that I left. He’s probably forgotten about me. Maybe Cyrus has taken my place as more than just his bodyguard.
I’m not a big fan of the guy, and I’m self-aware enough to realize it’s because I don’t like anyone protecting Evan but me. Dislike him or not, I talked to Cyrus several times about Evan’s security detail, checking and double-checking that he hasn’t missed anything. So far, he’s been on top of his job, but I’ll be there to pick it up if he drops the ball.
At least most days—and nights—I’m working nonstop with Cash and Johnny and the rest of their crew to make sure we pull off the plan to discredit Digger and ensure no one in the Freedom Fest crowd gets hurt.
But tonight, everyone went their separate ways, and I’m left with nothing else to do but try to convince myself I’m not in love with Evan Kelly.
It can’t be love—right? I mean, I’ve only known him for a few weeks, one where he was pretty awful to me, so it has to be my imagination that it feels like I can’t live without him, that I found happiness with him and just threw it away.
