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"Memphis, what's going on?" I ask, my stomach quivering with anxiety.
"Nothing, baby. I've just got some shit to take care of." He grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm where it was knicked during the fight. It doesn't even hurt anymore. "I'll be back in a few hours. Behave for me."
"I always behave," I retort, earning a half-smirk from him. It doesn't reach his eyes.
"That's a damn lie, Kylie." He cups my cheek, his eyes soft as he stares into my eyes. "You don't know the definition of behaving. It's one of the things I love most about you."
My heart leaps into my throat. He's never used that word before now—love. Neither have I for that matter. But I feel it. God, do I ever. I've never loved anyone or anything the way I love this man.
It's time to tell him—everything.
"Memphis," I begin, swallowing hard. My heart hammers against my ribcage. "There's something I need to tell you. Something important you need to know." I exhale a breath. "It's about me and my past."
He searches my gaze and then nods, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "We'll talk tonight, okay? You can tell me whatever you need to tell me. And when you do, I want you to remember that it's not going to change anything at all between us, all right?"
I'm not sure I should wait. I can't shake the feeling that there's more going on than he's saying. Something—some instinct whispers that I need to tell him now, that this is the moment. But his gaze is a million miles away, distracted by whatever is going on that he's trying so hard to keep from me.
So I silence the little voice whispering at me and nod, agreeing to wait for tonight to confess everything—about Jayson, about our connection, about my feelings. If he still wants me after that, then I'm his. Completely and utterly.
I slide off the bike, my legs shaky. He helps steady me, his touch sending shivers through me.
"Stay safe, Toto," he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine before he straddles the bike again. "I'll be back soon."
"Promise?" I ask, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of losing him.
"Promise," he assures me, his eyes tangling with mine with a fierce intensity that steals my breath. With that, he revs the bike and speeds off, leaving me standing there with my heart in my throat.
As I watch him disappear at the end of the block, I send up a silent prayer that he's still here when I tell him the truth. He keeps saying he will be, but I'm not so sure. I'm a piece of the past he's tried to bury, one that still haunts him. And I've been lying to him about it for weeks.
Once I tell him the truth, he might not be able to see a future with me anymore. The only thing he might see is the past he's tried like hell to forget…and the brother who died in his arms. My brother.
I sigh heavily and turn, walking toward the back entrance of the bar. Regardless of what happens tonight, it's time to tell him. He needs to make the choice for himself. If it ends with my heart broken, then at least he had the chance to decide.
I owe him that. I owe him everything. He gave me pieces of my brother I never knew were missing. I came for answers and found so much more. This bar is a piece of Jayson I never would have had without Memphis—a dream I never knew about. And because of him, I feel like a piece of my brother is still alive. It lives in these walls and the care Memphis pours into the place.
He has every reason to hate bikers and MCs. He has every reason to never want to deal with them ever again, but he comes here night after night, giving them a refuge because it's what Jayson wanted. He could have turned his back on that and buried Jayson's dream with him. But he didn't.
People back home believe Memphis got his MC killed, but he didn't. That guilt isn't his to carry, but he shoulders it anyway. He never tried to correct that assumption. He never tried to clear his name. He just shouldered the burden in silence, did what he could to avenge them, and then walked away.
That's the man he is. He's flawed and broken and so damn beautiful. God, I've never met anyone like him, and I never will again because there is no one else like him. There's just Memphis.
"Kylie Conroy."
I freeze, my blood running cold as a familiar voice calls my name—my real name.
I spin around, watching as Shelby steps out of the shadows, her hard blue eyes narrowed and a malicious smirk on her lips. She's beautiful the way snakes are beautiful—it's a cold, vicious kind of beauty.
"You really should've taken my warning and stayed away," she says, sashaying toward me.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, trying to feign ignorance while my pulse hammers against my ribs. I don't know what she wants, but I really don't want to find out. If she knows who I am, it can only mean trouble.
"I tried to warn you to stay away from Memphis, but you didn't listen," she says, smirking as she draws to a stop in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest, pushing her boobs up in her low-cut top. "You should have listened."
"Are you seriously still pissed that he doesn't want you?" I roll my eyes. "Get over it, Shelby."
She throws her head back and laughs. "Please. I wouldn't touch his cock with someone else's pussy. I only threw myself at him because I had a job to do."
"What job?"
