Page 48 of Contracted to the Bikers

“You knew Briggs wanted the land, our land,” I continue. “You knew he was circling like a vulture, and you let her walk into it blind.”

For the first time, Rook’s resolve falters, and I see the fallible man beneath the tough facade. “I didn’t—”

“You did.” The words crack through the space between us, sharp and final.

Sloane steps forward slightly, her hand held out as if to try to touch me, but falling short, like I’m a wild beast. “Boone—”

“No,” I say, softer this time but no less firm. “You don’t try to fix this for them.”

Her mouth presses into a thin line, but she stops; she understands.

I look back at Rook. “You invited her in here, offered her our protection,” I say. “You let her think this was just about her case.”

“It was,” he says. “I didn’t know Briggs’ involvement with Escar.”

“It wasn’t,” I fire back. “Not entirely. Not from the start. You might not have known the connection, but you knew the clubhouse wasn’t the safe haven she needed.” The truth sits there, ugly and unavoidable. “If Sloane knew,” I continue, my voice dropping now, heavier, “She would’ve left.”

Sloane looks at me, a flicker of acknowledgment in her eyes as she realizes the truth of my words.

“She would’ve taken Jessy and walked,” I say. “And they’d be safe.” The word safe sticks in my throat. “Jessy almost got taken from us, from her mother,” I say, quieter now. “I would rather not have them here at all,” I add, voice rough, “Than risk losing them like that.”

The room goes still. Sloane’s eyes are on me, soft, pained, and understanding all at once. I mean every word.

I look at Rook again. “You didn’t just hide the truth,” I say. “You chose to put us all at risk.”

His expression darkens. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” I say. “It’s accurate.” Then the thing that’s been sitting between us, the thing I didn’t want to say comes out anyway. “You wanted her,” I say. “You saw her, you wanted her, and you made the call to keep her here even when it wasn’t safe enough.”

“That’s not—”

I square up to him. “You manipulated her.”

Rook steps forward. “You think I’m capable of doing that to her? That I’d put my desires ahead of my promise to protect her?” he snarls.

“I think you wanted her enough to justify keeping her here.”

For a moment, I think Rook is about to punch me. I welcome the idea, needing to feel something other than the crushing sense of betrayal. But then he slumps, looking over at Sloane, his eyes soft.

“I love her,” he yells.

Everything stops. The words don’t echo. They fall to the ground like stones. Rook doesn’t take them back. He sags with relief, like he’s been holding them in too long, and they finally broke loose.

Sloane’s breath catches. “You—”

“I love you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes her hand in his gently, looking into her eyes. The moment is so tender, so real, I have to look away, feeling as if I’m an outsider intruding on an intimate moment.

Cruz looks stunned; for once, he’s speechless.

We all knew that Rook loved Sloane, but hearing it is different; it changes everything. Anger curls at my edges, like paper burning. Rook has managed to deflect, turning this into a grand romantic gesture of love rather than owning up to what he did.

“I love you too,” Sloane says. Her words punch me in the gut.

But then she turns to look at Cruz and me. “I love all of you.” She steps closer, taking my hand in hers, so soft and small.

I swallow hard. I’ve known for a long time that I love her, too. I’ve tried to ignore it, to run from it, to pretend it’s not real, but it’s there, it’s always been there. If I were Rook, would I have made a different decision? Would I have been strong enough to send her away? I think I would, if it meant she’d be safe. But can I blame him for failing to do that? For wanting to do everything in his power to keep her close, to protect her himself, even when he brings trouble to our door?

“I love you too,” I say. The words come out rough, foreign. Sloane moves closer, hoping this moment will unite us again and heal the cracks between the guys and me. But it doesn’t fix it, it doesn’t change anything, or erase the past. I step back, shaking my head.