Page 134 of Cold Bastard
“And I’m here now,” he said, his voice desperate. “I’m here, and I’m not walking away again.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped, bending down to grab my shorts and panties from the floor. “You don’t get to show up here and fuck me and think that makes everything okay.”
“I don’t think it makes everything okay,” he said quietly. “But it’s a start.”
I pulled my shorts back on, refusing to look at him. “It’s not a start. It’s just sex. That’s all it was.”
“Liar.”
The word made me freeze, my hands stilling on the button of my shorts. “Excuse me?”
“You’re lying,” he said, stepping closer. “To me and to yourself. That wasn’t just sex, Alex. That was—”
“Nothing,” I interrupted, finally turning to face him. “It was nothing. And you need to leave.”
“Alex—”
“Leave,” I repeated, my voice breaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “Please, Nano. Just go.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll go. But this isn’t over, Alex. We’re not over.”
“Yes, we are,” I whispered, even as my heart screamed the opposite.
He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek with a tenderness that made my chest ache. “I love you,” he saidsimply. “And I’m going to keep loving you, whether you believe me or not.” And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving me alone in Maverick’s office with the scent of sex and the weight of everything I had just done.
I sank to the floor, my back against the door, and let the tears come.
Because he was right.
It wasn’t over.
It would never be over.
And that terrified me more than anything.
Chapter Forty-Three
Alex
The second my tears stopped, I moved.
I didn’t think. Didn’t plan. I justmoved.
Out the back door of Twisted Intentions, past the dumpsters reeking of old grease and stale beer, into the humid Florida night that wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket. My hands were shaking as I fumbled with Eros’ bike keys, my vision still blurred from crying.
Go. Just go. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just fucking GO.
The Harley roared to life beneath me, the vibration familiar and grounding in a way nothing else had been for months. I didn’t look back at the bar. Didn’t check to see if Nano was watching from the window. Didn’t let myself think about the way his voice had cracked when he said he loved me.
I just rode.
The first night was a blur of highway lights and darkness as I rode north, away from the coast, away from the ocean breeze and the life I’d tried to build in Coco Beach. Away from Emory and Maverick and the fragile sense of normalcy I’d convinced myself was enough.
Away fromhim.
My body ached. My thighs burned from gripping the bike. My hands were numb from clutching the handlebars too tightly. But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Because stopping meant thinking,and thinking meant remembering. Remembering the way he looked at me when I told him to leave.
