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“And you, Sasha,” Frost continued, drawing all eyes to the woman who was trying to slip from her ex-boyfriend’s hold. “You will suffer the same fate as Jaime?—”
“No! I didn’t do anything wrong!” she squealed, her sister silently watching, horror on her face. “I only did what Jaime begged me to. I was being a loyal friend, that’s all.” She whipped her head around to look at Tornado pleadingly. “I fucked him, but it didn’t mean anything. I swear.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in his expression. “Yeah? Well, fucking you meant nothing to me, either. You were just a warm hole and a wet mouth, and even those were nothing to get excited about. I got better head from your sister anyway.”
At that revelation, it was Tasha’s turn to gasp, but she didn’t have long to be shocked before her twin sister launched herself at her, clawing and slapping at her. Tornado allowed it to continue until Frost ordered them pulled apart.
Tornado grabbed Tasha, and Cluster grabbed Sasha, and both women looked like they’d gone ten rounds with a honey badger.
“Enough of this shit,” Frost pronounced. “Cluster, Tornado, take the trash out and make sure they stay gone. Stallion, brother, you know what you got to do. Make sure it’s done.” Finally, Frost turned to Patriot, a look of understanding crossing his ruggedly handsome face. “Do what you got to do to make sure your woman is happy.”
Beside him, Emily tensed, a blank mask sliding down over a face that Cilla was sure had shown bitterness just moments before. So, Frost might not be the husband he wanted the brothers to think he was.
But that wasn’t something Cilla needed to worry about, especially not when she had her own problems.
Cluster and Tornado escorted the twins toward a truck parked near the cluster of bikes parked near the edge of the clearing. The women didn’t fight it as the men forced them into the cab of the truck, got in, and drove away.
Good riddance…though Tasha was nowhere near as bad as her sister. Cilla had a feeling the woman did what Sasha did because it was expected of her as a twin. There’d been moments over the last few months, when Cilla caught Tasha watching her with a sadness in her eyes.
As Stallion dragged his screaming, struggling sister toward the front of the house and out of sight, Cilla disengaged from Patriot’s arms, taking a large enough step back that she could look up at his face but still be far enough away that he couldn’t touch her. If he touched her, she’d end up in his bed, and she needed answers. She needed an apology.
“We’re gonna take a ride,” Horde announced, wrapping his arm around a contrite looking Stephie. “That’ll give you two some time to talk.”
Stephie made to argue, but Horde cut her off. “Babe…give them time.”
Stephie glowered at Horde, then turned to look at Cilla with eyes shining with unshed tears. She must have read the stubborn anger on Cilla’s face because she finally nodded, then turned and let Horde lead her away.
Since the show for the evening had concluded, the other brothers, Kiki, Marci, and the prospects headed for the food, speaking in low voices—no doubt talking about what they’d just watched, leaving Cilla and Patriot alone in their little corner of the clearing.
Cilla could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, burning at the back of her throat.
God, tonight was a lot. Too much. She wanted to curl into a ball in the dark and not come out until it all made sense.
But then she wouldn’t be with Patriot…and she really needed to be with Patriot.
Dragging in a breath to calm her fraying nerves, she crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet.
She lifted her chin, dared herself to meet his gaze, and followed through. And immediately wished she hadn’t.
In his gorgeous, forest green eyes, was regret and pain so stark and paralyzing, she couldn’t breathe for the weight of it on her soul.
“I love you.”
Cilla, blindsided, gasped and stumbled back, hit square in the chest by his words.
She rasped, “What?” Shaking her head, she raised a trembling hand to her mouth.
“I love you, Cilla,” Patriot repeated, taking a step toward her, his large hand reaching for her. She didn’t move, her feet glued to the ground, and she leaned into his touch when his palm cupped her face. He tipped her face up and their gazes collided. She couldn’t look away. “I have loved you since the moment I saw you.” He laughed softly. “Love at first sight—never believed in it, thought it was just lust and chemical reactions, but…. Cilla, I took one look at you and knew that you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I saw you, and my future was so clear. I wanted to meet you, get to know you, make you mine.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. He murmured against her mouth, “I want to marry you, give you my last name, make a home with you, fill you with my children, and live happily ever after.”
Tears spilled from her eyes. This! This is all she ever wanted, and he was who she wanted it all with. But was it possible?
“W-what about Jaime? What about what happened at Cool Hands?” she croaked, her voice just as shaky as her emotions. “I can’t forget what you did. I can’t forget that you let those women talk about me, humiliate me. I know you said there was stuff going on with Jaime and the club—and now that I know what was happening, I can understand that you were in a tough spot. But, Patriot, even after that night, you just…abandoned me. You left me alone to stew without any idea of what was really going on. If you’d just come to me, talked to me, been honest with me, I wouldn’t feel like the biggest idiot on the planet.”
He pressed his forehead against hers and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his thumbs carefully wiping away the tears from her cheeks. “I keep messing up, I keep making mistake after mistake, and I own that. I know I was a goddamn fool, and I let my guilt, pride, and loyalty to the club get in the way of being the man you needed me to be. Your man. Always, only your man. Jaime never meant anything to me. She was Stallion’s sister, the woman I fucked once and made myself sick afterward, and she became the bane of my fucking existence since then. I let her get in my head, I let her trick me, and she almost—” He choked, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He exhaled slowly, as though he was gathering himself, schooling his emotions. “She almost killed you,” he finished, his voice thick.
Her heart tripped, aching and tight, like she was having an attack. Yes, he messed up, but he did what he had to do because he truly thought Jaime was in danger. She couldn’t fault him for wanting to protect a woman in danger, but she could fault him for keeping her in the dark, allowing her to be hurt, and then ghosting her for days at a time.
