by Amelia Shea
She closed her eyes. She knew it was only a matter of time before he asked. She had a bit of blind hope she’d have more time. She was aware he knew about the incident. Small towns held no secrets. Him knowing wasn’t the issue; it was the details he was seeking that bothered her. I don’t want to give him them.
“Please.”
She wiped her cheeks and tilted her head. “You already know, according to Kase.”
Saint stared back at her, not answering immediately.
“I want to hear it from you.”
Bailey tucked her feet under her butt and settled into the couch. The last topic she wanted to discuss with him was the incident. She had spent a lot of time in therapy working it all out, getting past it, or so she thought. Her relationship with Saint was bringing it back to the surface again.
Reliving it with him would set her back. He’d see her differently—no matter how hard he tried, he’d see her as a victim, and then he’d feel pity. There lay the truth. She wanted a normal relationship, not one with sympathy. Saint reached back and pulled down the blanket. When he opened it up, she thought he’d spread it across his own lap, but Saint draped it over her.
She drew in a breath and lowered her head to the cushion, staring at Saint. He remained silent. She knew he was waiting on her to speak. To share.
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
She was falling hard and fast. I don’t want to lose this.
He nodded. “Tell me what you do want.”
“I want us to be Bailey and Saint. I wanna go to inappropriate biker parties, drink too many margaritas, and come back your house.” She curled her lips. “I want to raid your snack shack, sleep in your bed, and wake up with you wrapped around me.” She felt a giddy bubble in her chest. She needed the mood to lighten. “I wanna hear you moan my name when you’re inside me, and I want you to make me come while I’m screaming out yours.” She smirked. “I really want that.”
His finger grazed over her cheek and under her chin. “You have it, sweetheart.”
Her smile faltered. “And I want to keep it.”
“And telling me will change us?”
Yes.
“You’ll look at me differently, Saint. I’ve seen pity in the eyes of everyone I know.” She bowed her head and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to see it coming from you.”
He reached over, clasping his hand on her leg and pulling her over his lap. She went willingly and untangled her legs from the blanket to straddle his hips. He drove his hands into the back of her hair and pulled her lips down to meet his.
“Nothing you tell me will ever change how I see you, Bailey.”
She shook her head. “You say that…”
“No,” he snapped. “I’ll say it again, nothing you ever tell me will change how I see you.” He grasped her hips and pulled her down over his chest. “I’m a selfish bastard. I want to know everything when it comes to you. I want all of you.” He kissed her lips and angled her head. His tongue slipped past her lips, and her breasts jutted forward grazing his chest. It was the perfect distraction. Then it ended, and he pulled away from the kiss.
“You won’t get pity from me, Bailey. All you’ll get is love and respect and admiration of your strength. Never pity.” He curled his hand around her jaw. “You told a room full of strangers, but you won’t share with me?”
A room full of strangers? It took her a second. Her brows arched then her lower lip pouted. “Caden needs a lesson in confidentiality.”
Saint smirked. “He did it because he wanted you safe.”
Bailey climbed off his lap and sat next to him. She sagged in her seat. “It was different. At the meeting, we’re all victims turned survivors. Everyone is on the same level.” She turned her head. “I don’t wanna be that to you.”
“You won’t.”
There was no way around it. She sighed. She was resigned to telling him. Quick and fast, without diving into too much detail. She would tell it as if she was relaying how it happened to someone else and keep her emotions out of it.
She kept her gaze in front of her. “I met him in college. My first real boyfriend, I guess you could say. He was an upperclassman, and I was a freshman.” She snorted. “My brother actually introduced us. So, you can imagine the guilt he harbors. I swear he could barely look at me after it happened.” She stretched her neck and refused to look at Saint. “We dated for a year before getting an apartment off campus. I was just so in love with him.” She sighed and sank into the couch, whispering, “I thought I was.” Her first true love became her biggest nightmare. “I missed all the signs I should have seen. I just couldn’t see it.” She shook her head trying to stay on track. “It wasn’t until after the incident I could finally see what was happening. He wanted me to spend all my time with him.” She paused and fidgeted with her finger. “There were little things he would freak out about.” She shrugged. “So, I just tried harder, ya know, to not do those things which would set him off. He never hit me. A little intentional shove now and then. I just let it go.” She shook her head. Why did I let it go?
Saint spread his hand over her scarred arm. “What happened?”
She drew in a breath. “I went out with my study group.” She laughed without humor. “Literally, we spent hours in the library working on a project. Then someone suggested we grab dinner. I was hungry, so I went. I texted, letting him know. Never got a response. By the time I got home, I knew he was there because I saw his car in the lot. But when I walked in, he wasn’t around. Even after I announced I was home, I didn’t get a response. I figured he was in the shower. So, I set up my computer at the little table we had in the kitchen. I needed to finish up a paper due the next day.” She pursed her lips.
“I never even saw it coming, Saint” Her eyes teared, and she cupped her mouth. “One minute, I’m typing, and the next my skin is burning like it’s on fire. I didn’t even know what was happening. There was just pain, this horrible burn, so bad my vision went blurry, and I just started screaming and then choking, I couldn’t breathe.” She sniffled and wiped her cheek with her sleeve. “It’s impossible to describe.”
“Did you see him?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t see anything. It was all black. I was consumed with the pain. God, it was…” She stopped. It had been so long since she’d really allowed herself to fully go back to the moment. Even with the group when she spoke, she hadn’t dug as deep as she was now. For Saint.
She closed her eyes against her dampening lashes. “Apparently, I passed out. The doctor said the shock to the body forced unconsciousness.” She snorted. “Thank God.” She sniffled and wiped her face. “It didn’t end there. Even hyped on as many drugs as my body would allow, there was still pain. It was constant, I didn’t even have to move, and I felt it.” She cringed in the memory. “I would be laying in my bed, and the breeze from someone opening the door would filter over my skin.” The tears streamed down her cheeks. “It was tingling burn. God, it was awful.”
“I’m sorry, Bailey.”
She turned to Saint. “I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.” Her lips trembled. “Not even him, Saint.”
His jaw clenched, and his fingers skimmed her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “It’s not your fault. You did nothing to deserve it.”
She sighed and forced a smile. “I know. It took a while, but I do know now. It wasn’t my fault. And I learned a long time ago, if I was ever going to get past it and move on, I couldn’t go back to the what-ifs. So, I don’t. Usually.” She sniffled. “Every once in a while.” She choked on her breath. “I just wish I could have seen the signs. Or at least have some reasoning why.” She sniffled and lowered her voice. “He never said why he did it, just that he was sorry.”
He cupped her jaw with his hand. It may not have seemed like much to him but for her, at this moment? It was everything. She curled her face into his palm. For as hard as it was to relive the memory, this made it easier.
“You hear from him?”
“Yeah. The first letter came right after he was sentenced.” She shrugged. “It was an apology.” She snorted and wiped her sleeve against her eyes. “He writes at least once a month.”
“Do you read them?”
She nodded. “Every single one.”
“You ever write him back?”
She shook her head avoiding his stare. “No. His apology was more for him than it was for me.” She bowed her head, staring at her lap. “I used to read them, two or three times. I was searching for the why in what happened.” She glanced up. “It took a long time to realize, I’m never going to get an explanation.” She shrugged. “I had to forgive him and move on.”
His thumb strummed along her jaw. “You nervous about him getting out?”
She sighed.
“Bailey.”
She picked at a string on her pants. “I got the call when we were at the clubhouse. He was released today.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She glanced over. His body was tense and his jaw clenched as though he was grinding his teeth. It had been a long time since she’d been in a relationship, she was rusty. She should have mentioned it. She shrugged. “We were having such a good time.” She smiled sadly. “I just wanted to be Bailey and Saint,” she whispered, hoping he’d understand.
The corners of his mouth curled and his gaze softened.
She inched closer, leaning against his chest. “I just wanna leave it in the past.” She gulped. “This, with you and me, this is what I want.”
“Just us, sweetheart,” he whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
This is not what I need right now.
She had stopped into the diner to grab a dessert before heading to Saint’s house.
Big mistake.
Bailey stood on Main Street, trying her best to be attentive to the older man. This was one of many heated interactions she’d had with him. Of course, the heat was always on his end. He babbled on, but she could barely concentrate. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d be late getting to Saint’s. She was meeting his brother and wanted desperately to get there on time. The odds were not in her favor. At this rate, Arnett would still be complaining a few days from now.
“If you can’t handle the responsibility of the town, then maybe you should step down.”
Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you, grumpy old man?
Bailey drew in a deep breath and forced her smile. It was all part of the job. This being the harder part.
“Mr. Collins, these are all issues which need to be presented to the town, not just me.” She smiled, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
“Oh, I will. I got a lot of topics I need to bring to the table. Have you seen the goddamn traffic around here?”
Bailey tightened her lips. If by traffic he meant the ten extra cars on the road, then yes, she’d seen it, and couldn’t be happier. More cars meant more people visiting their small town and the shops which had opened up. More importantly, it meant more revenue for the town, which should have made all the residents happy. The idea was lost on Arnett.
“We do need to stick to our agenda, so please send me an email with your concerns, and we’ll address them.”
“I don’t have goddamn email.” He threw out his hand, and the papers smacked against her face. “Take them,” he barked.
Bailey gasped and retreated a step. She had always dealt with Arnett with complete control and calmness. He was the type of person who fed off getting a reaction from confrontation. With Bailey, she took the high road. Not this time. She rolled her shoulders and straightened her back. She was fully prepared to go up against him in the center of Main Street. Enough was enough.
She opened her mouth, finally prepared to stand up to Arnett.
“Problem?”
It wasn’t the intrusion which had her angling her head around Arnett’s large frame, it was the sinister growl which followed. She leaned to her right and saw a biker, tall with long brown hair tied back at his neck. She hadn’t seen him before at the clubhouse and didn’t recognize him as a Ghosttown Rider. Though his eyes are eerily familiar.
Arnett followed her lead and turned around, stepping back when he saw who interrupted his vent fest on Bailey.
The biker raised his brows. “Don’t have all fucking day, man. Ya got a problem with her?”
Bailey’s eyes widened. Who was this man?
“We were having a private conversation,” Arnett barked, but she noticed he took a step back.
The biker stared at him. “Conversation is when more than one person talks. Didn’t hear shit coming from her lips as you were ripping her apart for all of fucking Main Street to hear.” He cracked his neck, sending a chill down Bailey’s spine. “So, let me ask again, you got a fucking problem?”
Back down, Arnett, back down.
“Yes, I have a problem which has nothing to do with you.”
She darted her eyes between the men.
He snorted. “If it has to do with her, then it’s my problem too.”
Bailey jerked her head and squinted, taking a better look at him. She would have remembered meeting him or at the very least seeing him at the clubhouse. Who the hell was he?
“And you are?”
“The man who’s gonna beat the piss outta you, you ever yell at her again.”
Bailey gasped. The biker, clearly fed up with Arnett, stepped closer. He wasn’t much taller than Arnett, probably about six-two, but his muscular build would surely send the old man to the hospital. Or the morgue. She moved forward, placing her body between the men.
“I’m fine. Mr. Collins was just upset, and well, as mayor, it’s my job.”
“Your job is to have this guy shred you in front of the whole fucking town ‘’cause he’s bitching like a pussy about property markers?” The man laughed and then his jaw tightened. He shook his head, and said, “No.”
“I thought you were with the other one?”
Bailey jerked her head to Arnett, whose scowl was so deep she wasn’t sure the lines in his forehead would ever ease.
“Excuse me?”
“The biker you been hanging around with, the one who comes to the meetings, sits in the back, doesn’t say anything.”
It was an accurate assessment. “Saint?”
He mockingly widened his eyes. “Any other biker fit that description? You got more than one suitor?” His comment was snarky, and his tone biting.
“Watch it, old man. I’m seconds away from grabbing my gun and pistol-whipping your ass for the whole fucking town to see.”
Oh my God.
Arnett backed down, cowered away, and turned leaving altogether without another word. Now, she was left with the hostile biker.
The man peered down at her with humor in his eyes. What was she supposed to do now? She drew in a breath.
“I have to go.” She turned, rushing to her car. She heard the steel-toed boots crunching under the gravel and she whipped around to face him. “Please don’t follow me.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “I scare ya?”
Yes! She grabbed her keys from her purse, angling one key between her fingers. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was something. She squeezed the ring in her hand and steadied her stance.
“Please, leave me alone.” Her breath hitched when he didn’t back away, and she blurted. “My boyfriend is scarier than you, and unless you want to find out, I’d back up.” The words slipped past her lips before she even realized what was happening.
The comment seemed to surprise him, and he snickered. His chin lifted, and she caught the teasing glow in his eyes.
“You think your boyfriend can take me?”
Oh my God, what am I doing? She was using Saint as a weapon. Her face heated. The damage was done. Just go with it. Hopefully, he’d back off if she showed confidence.
“I know he can so for your own safety, back up.”
The comment only infused his lau
gh. That backfired.
“I’m serious.”
“Don’t doubt ya are, babe.”
“Well, ya better go then before I call him.”
He stopped and smiled, clearly still amused and reached in his pocket, grabbing his phone and dialing, then he brought it up to his ear with his eyes trained on Bailey.
“Got your girl here. Old man was fucking with her, stepped in, and now…” He smirked and extended the phone in her direction. “Wants you.”
Bailey furrowed her brows and took the phone stepping away from the biker.
“Saint?”
“You okay?” It was his voice riddled with concern. “What happened?”
“Uh…” She eyed the biker who crossed his arms and stared back at her. His lips were flat, and if she had to guess he was holding back a smile. “Mr. Collins.”
“I think it’s time I had a talk with him.”
“No, Saint, I’m mayor, it’s my job to listen to complaints, I told you this.”
“Listen, yes. Not get yelled at and ridiculed, that shit is not acceptable, Bailey.”
She sighed and dragged her hand through her hair. “Well, it’s over.” She bowed her head and lowered her voice. “Is this guy a member of your club?”
“Hades?”
She glanced up. “If that’s the big scary biker standing in front of me who seems quite amused, then yes.”
Saint chuckled. “You just set his ego meter full throttle. The little prick gets off on scaring the shit outta people. Christ, been that way since we were kids.”
“Kids?”
“Yeah. Hades is my little brother.”
“What?” She widened her eyes. “Roman?”
Hades grinned with a slow nod.
“You look nothing alike.” While they may have shared the same height, their build was different. Saint was muscular and lean. Hades was bulkier. His lighter hair was a contrast to Saint’s dark. As she stared back at his brother, who was thoroughly amused, she saw the resemblance. It was hard to believe she missed it. Her lips curled beyond her control. “You have the same eyes.”