Page 55 of The List
Cross gave in to his smile. “Started prospecting when he was nineteen. Had this beat-up, loud as fuck bike that he was always fixing outside of a bar we hung out at. Owner comes out and tells him he’s got to haul it outta there. Knox says he’ll get it running. Owner gets pissed, calls the bouncers. Three big guys.”
“Did he move it?”
Cross smirked, thinking back. “No. Told them the same thing he told the owner. And then he took them all on.”
Her brows spiked. “He fought three guys?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he win?” She smirked.
“He held his own for a while but eventually got the shit kicked outta him.”
“Oh,” she muttered, clearly rooting for the underdog.
“A couple months later, I vouched for him, and he was prospecting.”
“Because you felt bad for him?”
Cross scoffed. “’Cause after they beat his ass and left him, he got himself up” —he cocked his brow— “and continued to work on his fucking bike.”
Her lips twitched. “It showed you what he was made of?”
Exactly.
“Thanks for sharing that. It gives me a different idea of who he was outside of Cleo’s version of her brother.” She smiled. “I guess the real Knox is somewhere between both.”
Yeah.
“She said you two were really close.”
Cross stared back at her. He’d give her a little, but he wasn’t diving into his personal emotions. Those were only his.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she whispered.
No one had ever said that to him. For the club and Cleo, they’d all lost him. Outsiders didn’t dare speak of Knox unless one of them brought him up, and even then they just listened. It was an unspoken rule. One that Addison had broken. He’d never told that story of Knox before, and for some reason he wanted her to hear it.
Cross stalked toward her, and unlike the other time when she’d stood her ground, Addison retreated, pressing her back against the wall. He stopped a foot away, crowding her space. Intentionally, but not to scare her. He felt an unexplainable need to be close.
“I’m going to leave,” she whispered.
It took everything in him to batten down his reaction.What the fuck was she talking about? She wasn’t going anywhere. Not now.
“I’ll pack up tonight and book a flight home. No argument.” She gulped. “I didn’t come here to upset anyone. I wanted to meet Cleo.” Her voice cracked. “And now I’ve done that, so I should go. I’m sorry for how all this worked out for you and the club. I should’ve taken into account how this would affect everyone, not just Cleo.” She glanced up. “But I didn’t, and for that I am really sorry, Cross.”
And she was. Cross felt it to his core. He was seeing everything clearly with her. Cue and Ghost, even Cleo, had nailed it with Addison. She was in dire need of healing.So am I.
“You’re staying,” he said without an ounce of hesitation.
“Why?” she whispered. “You all hate me.”
No, I don’t.But Cross wasn’t ready to open himself up more. Not yet. He settled for the next best thing in admitting anything.
“Cleo doesn’t.”
“I think…”
He pressed his hands against the wall, caging her in and shutting her down from finishing her sentence. He didn’t want to hear it. “You told her you were staying for a month. You sold her a dream. And now you’re going to fucking deliver.”
