A tear rolls down my cheek and I swiftly swipe it away.
“Want me to release the football guys on him?”
I giggle through a few tears but I shake my head.
“They are high-schoolers, Cale. Crash is a biker, and street wise. Plus, he has the club at his back.”
“Okay, so a bunch of men who rides motorcycles, thinking they are tough guys, taking on broody teenage boys with high hormones, who also think they are tough guys.”
“Exactly. It would be a blood bath.” I laugh. “And a lawsuit.”
He twists his lips, and nods. “Fair— you’ve got me there.”
I shake my head at him, with a look on my face that makes him laugh.
“On a serious note, I am not happy that this punk hurt you, but I will take your lead on it. You say the word.”
Reaching over for his hand, he wraps his big one around mine.
“I love you for that. Thank you, Cale.”
“I love you too, kiddo.”
At that second, Aunt Cass pushes through the door, her face carrying a somber look.
“You have a visitor, Stevie.” Her voice is hard, telling me exactly who is here to see me.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Cale asks, his tone serious.
Pushing to my feet with a sigh, my heart is full that these two people love and support me. Facing Logan needs to be done, I know that, but it doesn't make it any easier.
“No, I need to do this. He won’t hurt me.”
I kiss Cale’s cheek, and then my aunt’s, as I pass. Just a little show of appreciation for their love and support.
Walking through the house, I tuck my hands in the back pockets of my jean shorts, to keep them from fidgeting. With each step I take closer to the door, I take deep breaths to calm myself.
I need to tell him what I heard, then he will go. No doubt back to her.
Biting my lip, I see him through the screen door.
He is pacing back and forth a few steps, his hand gripping the back of his neck— a show of nerves.
What does he have to be nervous about? He is the one lying to me, not the other way around. I can’t help but think he might try and talk his way out of what happened.
He looks good, and hot. The black T-shirt stretches over his shoulders under his cut, the tattoos on his arm glisten with sweat from him being out in the heat.
Damn it, he is a liar and a cheat. I think. Fudge, I do not know.
He must sense me approaching the door, because he suddenly stops. His gaze tracks me as I move closer, my body liking his eyes on me, but my heart knows the score.
“Hi.” I push through the door, stepping over to lean against the small wall.
“Crash.” Something flickers in his gaze when I use his club name.
It seems that a woman using his road name over their legal name is a big thing when it comes to MCs. Most women do not even know their man’s real name until after he claims her.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he rushes out.