Page 9
“Should you be up?” He stops just out of reach.
“I had to come down.” I hug myself. “I needed to see everyone.”
The air between us tightens, crackling with something we’ve always felt but never acknowledged. His eyes lock onto mine, even as Dad clears his throat.
“We should give you two some space,” Dad suggests, already heading toward the kitchen where Matthew hesitates. But Dad’s hand on his shoulder nudges him away.
Once they’re gone, a heavy silence fills the house, Carter and I standing in the living room.
“You didn’t sleep,” I note, seeing the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders.
“Couldn’t.” His voice is rough, as if torn from his throat. “Not while you were…”
“While I was what?”
His jaw clenches, muscles moving under the stubble. “While you were going through hell and I couldn’t protect you.”
Something cracks open inside me. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” He steps closer, the space between us shrinking to a few inches. I can feel his warmth. The scent of leather and coffee wraps around me.
“Then why?” I whisper.
His hand hovers near my face. “Because I almost lost you without ever telling you the truth.”
“What truth?” My heart slams against my ribs.
His hand trembles near my cheek. “That I’ve wanted this for years, Trixie. Wanted you.” He glances away, his gaze almost too heavy to hold. “Wanted to take you out, learn all the little things about you.” His voice drops, rough with emotion. “I’ve spent so long guarding the club, my family—I forgot I was allowed to want something just for me.”
The words hang between us, raw and vulnerable. My breath catches, trying to absorb what he’s saying.
“Years?” I manage to say, disbelief coloring my voice.
“Since the first time Matthew brought you to the clubhouse.” His eyes never leave mine. “You were in a yellow sundress, arguing with him over something silly. You were so alive. Vibrant. I couldn’t look away.”
I remember that day. Nineteen, furious, storming into the clubhouse to tell Matthew off for ditching our concert plans. Didn’t care about the room full of rough bikers, I just wanted my brother.
“I thought you hated me,” I admit. “You barely spoke to me.”
He half smiles. “I was terrified. You were Matthew’s little sister, off limits. And you looked at me like I was just another biker.”
“Because that’s what I thought you were.” I step closer, erasing the gap between us. “Just another one of Matthew’s rough friends.”
“And now?” His breath brushes my skin, warm and inviting.
“Now I know better.” My voice is a whisper.
His hand finally touches my cheek, gentle enough to bring tears to my eyes. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, and something in me goes quiet in a way it hasn’t since before any of this started.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you out properly,” he says, voice thick with feeling. “Dinner, holding hands, introducing you as mine.” His thumb pauses on my skin. “But I waited too long.”
His pain echoes something deep in my chest. “Carter”
“No, let me finish.” He takes a breath. “When you went missing, I couldn’t think straight. All I could focus on was how I’d never told you how I feel. That I’d wasted time being careful, respecting boundaries that didn’t need to be there.”
Tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, sliding down my cheeks. He catches one with his thumb, gently wiping it away.
“I know this isn’t the best timing,” he says softly. “You’ve been through hell, and the last thing you need is some clueless biker confessing feelings you might not share.”
