Page 63 of Havoc

Because if I stop and let myself sit with the truth long enough, I have to think about all the things I can’t change. I have to stare at this scar on my abdomen and accept what it means. That I’m too hard to love.

I have too much baggage.

And if all that isn’t enough, there’s the fact that I know Levi wants to have a family someday. A big family like the one he didn’t have growing up. We used to have that in common. But now, I don’t think I can stomach it. Not just because I can’t give birth to a child myself, but because I’ve changed on a fundamental level.

Sometimes things break to a point beyond repair.

What if that’s me?

I shake that thought. It’s too overwhelming, so I change the subject.

“Why did you choose the name Havoc when you patched in? Was it to piss off my dad if you ever saw him again? Because I think you might finally get your chance.”

Some of the weight in Levi’s eyes eases with his smile. “Yes and no. It’s a long story.”

“I think I can pencil you into my busy schedule.”

“Brat.” He smirks. “Do you remember what your dad said when he got home from work early and caught us in the backyard holding hands?”

“That if you laid a hand on me, he’d cut it off. So to think about that when considering where you were going to put your dick?”

He grins so wide it steals my breath. Even his dark eyes spark against the dark night. “He wasn’t my biggest fan.”

“It didn’t help that you peeled out of the driveway and left tire marks streaking the new cobblestone.”

“Guess not,” he agrees. “But I was talking about the other thing he said—after the losing my dick comment.”

“I figured.” I press my lips together. “He said your life brings only havoc.”

“And that if I didn’t let you go, then I’d bring it on you too,” he finishes.

The letters stitched into his patch are barely readable in the moonlight, but I can’t help staring at them. Of all the things my father could have been wrong about, I wish it had been that.

“The name was my reminder of why you left.” He scrubs his palm over his face. “Or why Ithoughtyou left, since I didn’t know the real reason. He was right, and I wanted to make sure I’d never forget, so I wouldn’t put someone through that again.”

His name was a self-inflicted punishment. One that closed him off for years.

Havoc.

It’s not a badge of honor. It’s a reminder of what he thinks he’ll never deserve because of his club or his family. Maybe both.

“Guess it’s not that long of a story after all.” Levi shrugs.

“I guess not.” I look up at the moon. “But for the record, it pissed me off when my father said that to you.”

“I know.”

“It’s not that simple.” I frown. “And it’s not fair.”

He squeezes my hand. “Not much is.”

I meet his gaze and wish he wasn’t right, but he is. Nothing is fair—certainly not the things we’ve been through. But it’s reality, and it made us who we are.

Would I change that?

If I could erase certain trauma, yes. But Levi and I finding each other again? Understanding each other in ways we never did? I wouldn’t take that part back.

“Do you want to go inside?” Levi asks, releasing my hand.