Page 41 of Cruz

“Half the old ladies are gonna be riding before I ever get my own bike,” Liam huffs, but he doesn’t look like he minds the idea at all. He can ride, though I’m not sure if Sloane knows that. He’s been saving up for months to buy his own.

“Pick something safe,” I advise. “Large, loud, and reliable. Your mom might come around to the idea of a bike, and the club too, but she’ll want you to be as safe as you can.”

Liam won’t put up a fight about that. “Yeah, I know. That was one of her main concerns about me prospecting. It wasn’t so much that bikers have a bad rep, more the risk of getting involved in a crash.”

“That’s always gonna be a risk. But if she sees you ride safe and don’t take chances, then that might help,” I offer.

“Would you stop by and convince my mom to have dinner with you? Or at least keep her company tonight?” Liam asks out of the blue.

I hear dinner and my mind starts going on all sorts of crazy tangents. I’m at risk of losing all control of my face and straight up panicking, when we both hear voices coming down the hall.

Time for training. Thank fuck.

“I’m gonna tell her that you’ll stop by,” Liam says, snatching out his phone and firing off a text before I have a chance to stop him. “Just because the cameras are all still set up doesn’t mean you don’t want to check on her. I’m sure she’d appreciate it. And maybe you can tell her how safe riding a bike is.”

He tucks his phone away like it’s a done deal. Liam’s about as close as I’m going to get to a best friend or a brother. To him, this is a no brainer and it’s not a big deal. I don’t think it’s even crossed his mind that there might be anything going on between me and his mom. Not that there is. But it would be a much bigger deal if I mentioned that kiss.

Tyrant, Raiden, Odin, Crow, and Maverick all round the corner, filling the makeshift gym with loud voices and laughter. They’re all dressed to train, toting water bottles and even hand towels. It would be nice if I could focus on doing my job instead of thinking about the forced dinner that’s for sure not a date that I’m going to be having tonight.

“Cruz’s knee is ten shades of fucked, so he’s going to be coaching today and that’s it,” Liam says, taking charge before I can get a word out. My scowl doesn’t deter him. He’s going to make sure that I take care of myself.

He’s a good friend. A good person. He’s going to turn into a good man one day. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for myself. I need to get out of my fucking head and focus on what I can do.

I clear my throat. I can’t look at Liam. “I’ll be fine. I’ll watch my knee.” If I can’t tell him the truth and let him kick my ass, I can sure as shit punish myself.

Chapter 16

Sloane

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Actually, I do, and that’s the problem. I can’t make it stop. Everything reminds me of Cruz. I can’t stop thinking about him. When I get up in the morning, I picture him sitting on the couch or at the table, back straight, alert, eyes alternating between his phone screen and the door like they’re not gritty from hours and hours of doing only that. When I’m making coffee, I picture that one he made by himself, and how proud he was after, that little dimple that he’s probably not even aware he has, appearing in his left cheek. During the day, I see Cruz in my memory, a huge, protective shadow in my space. At dinner, I miss him sitting at the table. At night, I miss his quiet, calm, and surprisingly humorous presence.

I can’t wash dishes, cook food, prep anything, make coffee, or even talk with clients in the shop without seeing Cruz everywhere. He’s lodged in my head.

At night, it’s more than that. The ache for him, for what we might have done and could have been, and all that craziness that I shouldn’t want to mess with, lodges in my chest. Like before, I don’t bother to touch myself. It’s not my hands that I crave.

When Liam texted me this morning to say that Cruz would be stopping by around dinner, I offered my token protest.

He doesn’t have to. We still have cameras on in the main café and on the building’s exterior. Wizard said that we’re safe. Cruz is probably busy. He likely has a thousand things he’d rather be doing. I’m fine.

Liam ignored all of it and texted me back that Cruz said he’d be over just after six.

The man knows my schedule inside and out.

I’m starting to think that he knows me the same way. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. That’s me, in the dead of night and in my vulnerable, quiet moments, wanting things that I can’t have. Cruz isn’t a dream guy. He’s not a fantasy. He’s not perfect. He’s a real person.

That’s what makes him so alluring.

“Stop.” I feel like an idiot as soon as I whine the plea into the quiet of the apartment.

I closed up right at six and came up here to start dinner. When Cruz was here, I never bothered to ask him what he liked or didn’t like. Liam told me that first night that Cruz would eat anything and he didn’t have any allergies. The first few days I did it to be purposely rude. Is it weird that I wanted to text him all day and ask what he wanted?

Is it even weirder that I’m standing in the middle of the kitchen, doing nothing other than sweating furiously? My palms are soaked and I’m damp under my sweater. Am I actually nervous?

I am. Yeah. I’m freaking out because this isn’t the same as having Cruz here to do a job. He’s coming of his own free will. I know Liam asked him to, but it could be more. It can’t be, but it could.

I told Liam to tell Cruz to use the café key he still has to let himself in.

I’ve been up here, losing my mind and rattling apart at the seams, for ten minutes before I hear the chime of the front door opening downstairs. I open the apartment door and glance downstairs. My breath catches and my stomach turns into a wild ball of nerves when Cruz’s shadow appears before he does. Then, it’s all him.