It’s not quite a question, but I know what he’s asking. “Yeah,” I admit, seeing no point in denying it.
Todd’s eyes meet mine. “Do you still have feelings for him?”
I take a moment to consider how best to answer. I could lie, try to protect his feelings, but Todd deserves better than that. And after everything he’s been dragged into because of me, he deserves the truth.
“I think…” I start, then sigh. “I think I never really stopped having feelings for him. It just wasn’t safe to have those feelings.”
“Ah.” Todd nods slowly, his expression thoughtful rather than hurt. He‘s quiet for so long that I wonder if I should say more, explain better, but then he speaks again. “You should probably resolve everything with Roman then, before we take our relationship further.”
His calmness surprises me. There’s no jealousy in his voice, no anger, just a pragmatic acceptance that reminds me why I was attracted to him in the first place. Todd is stable, reasonable, kind. He’s everything Roman isn’t.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I say softly.
Todd places his hand over mine. “I know.”
The simple statement contains such understanding that my throat tightens with emotion, and for a moment I wish I could just love this man the way he deserves.
He puts his arm around me, and I lean my head against his shoulder, grateful for his warmth and solidity. There’s no passionate spark like there was with Roman, no all-consuming fire, but there’s comfort and safety.
Todd presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering in my hair. The tenderness of the gesture makes my eyes sting with unshed tears.
A movement in the doorway catches my attention. Roman stands there, his body a silhouette against the hallway light. Even in shadow, I can see the pain etched into his face, the naked longing in his eyes before he schools his expression. Our gazes lock for a heartbeat, and I feel a pang of something deep and visceral in my chest: regret, desire, a yearning for what we once were to each other.
Before I can say anything, before I can even think of what I would say, Roman turns and disappears down the hallway.
I close my eyes, trying to block out the image of Roman’s wounded expression, but it’s burned into my memory like a brand. I made my choice two years ago when I walked away. So why does it suddenly feel like I’ve made a terrible mistake?
31
Chapter 31
Kayla
The women’s common room, tucked back in a little corner behind the kitchen, is possibly one of the nicest areas in the Inferno clubhouse. Everything else in this place has a worn, utilitarian quality to it, from the scuffed floors to the battered furniture. But this room is different. Overstuffed couches in soft slate blue. Bookshelves lined with scuffed paperbacks. A little corner with a low table and wooden toys, clearly built for children who visit. Not that I’ve seen all that many children around the clubhouse.
Maddie told me Dragon gave her the space to do whatever she wanted with it. I’d watched her face when she said it, the way a flush crept up her freckled cheeks before she turned away, like she’d said more than she meant too. I filed the observation away without comment. It’s not my business. But I notice things, andwhat I notice is that Maddie occupies a strange position in the Inferno that doesn’t quite fit any of the categories I’ve come to understand. She’s not an old lady in the official sense, she’s not claimed by anyone. She’s not a club bunny. She’s just Maddie. She keeps everyone fed and the clubhouse clean and running smoothly.
She says she’s just an employee except she has a room that’s much larger and nicer than any other room that I’ve seen and Dragon gave her this area to make into her haven and there are raised beds in the plot behind the clubhouse where Maddie grows flowers and vegetables. The brothers treat her with the same respect that they’d show any other old lady and the old ladies themselves are polite, friendly even but not overly warm. And she and Dragon manage to both completely ignore each other and orbit around the other when they are both occupying the same space in public.
In the four days I’ve been here, she’s become one of my favorite people.
I think she’s lonely. It’s not something she says, and I doubt she would say it even if pressed. Maddie strikes me as the kind of woman who has learned to make herself useful and keep her real feelings tucked so far out of sight that she might have forgotten they’re there. She lights up every time I wander in to help her in the kitchen. She shows up at the door of my room in the evenings with tea and a look that says she’s hoping I’ll invite her in to talk. I always do.
Right now, I’m sitting on one of the couches with a book open in my lap, which I’ve been staring at without reading for the better part of an hour. I can’t get through a single page without my mind sliding sideways to my own house, my own life, the small and ordinary things I’ve been missing in a way that surprises me with its intensity.
My garden. The thought catches me in the chest every time. I had just gotten the back beds into shape, with a whole new design I’d been working since last year, planting salvias and catmint and a sprawling patch of bee balm that I’d been coaxing into a second bloom. I think about it the way some people think about a person. Cassie said she’d stop by and water it for me and I’d nearly cried with gratitude. The idea of coming home to find it parched and struggling makes my stomach turn.
I miss my job. I miss sitting at my drafting table with coffee and sketching out a new design, the particular satisfaction of translating a client’s vague dream into something real and growing. I miss my routines; going to the pottery studio on Tuesdays, sitting in the garden after work with a glass of wine, coming home to Mochi and Charlie rubbing themselves against my ankles. I miss my own bed.
I miss my life.
I’m grateful for the club’s protection, truly I am. The memory of that masked man in my house, the knowledge that he was paid to kill me still sends shivers down my spine. But this limbo, this constant waiting for the next shoe to drop, is its own kind of torture.
Pushing myself up from the couch, I head for the door. Maybe finding Todd will distract me from everything. He’s adapted to our strange circumstances with surprising grace. After the initial shock and fear wore off, he seemed almost… fascinated by everything. Now he follows the bikers around like an eager puppy, asking endless questions
And to my continued surprise, the guys actually tolerate him. Mostly. His sincere interest and obvious harmlessness seem to amuse them rather than annoy them. Even Dragon has stopped glaring every time Todd opens his mouth, which I consider a significant improvement.
I make my way through the labyrinthine hallways of the clubhouse, nodding to club members as I pass. Most of them smile and nod back.