Page 57 of Ruin (Hell’s Mayhem MC: Maine Chapter #2)

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Kolton

I see Beth to her car and when it’s disappeared from my view, I head inside to grab my key and jump into my truck.

I’m being stupid. What I’m mad about was a misunderstanding.

The more I think about it, the more I realize I can’t remember exactly what he said, and maybe I am wrong.

Maybe hope blinded me. Maybe I didn’t listen.

I just wanted him and us to be together, so that’s all I care about.

But more than that? It just doesn’t matter.

Who cares what was said? We can move past this.

I can’t let more time go by without him.

Since he’s been back and we’ve been together, I’ve been better—I’ve been happy.

So much of my life has gotten better, because he makes me better.

No, it’s not that he makes me better. He gives me a safe space so I can make myself better.

It’s just about noon when I pull into his driveway and park behind his car.

Nerves settle in my stomach. I’m not the kind of guy who apologizes for anything.

Honestly, I’m not sure I have ever apologized for a thing in my life.

Definitely not to anyone other than Lucian, but if I want us to be together, which I really fucking do, I need to stop being so goddamn stubborn.

He’s probably standing inside, watching me. Waiting for me to get out of my car and walk to his door and drop to my knees and grovel.

No, I don’t think that’s true. Lucian knows I would never do that. But also, maybe he thinks I’d never apologize either.

I also know he doesn’t need me to do that.

He isn’t that kind of person. That’s me—I’m that person.

I want the groveling, I want to see how sorry he is.

I could walk in there right now, pretend everything is fine, and he would accept it.

He would move on. But that’s not fair to him.

I can’t treat him like that. I need to do better.

Not only for him, but for me too. I like the way I feel when I’m happy, and I can’t give Lucian all the credit.

He isn't in control of my feelings—I am. Only I can handle them. I need to do it myself. He gives me the strength I need to be a better person, and that’s okay.

I head up the front porch and knock on the door, since the doorbell doesn’t work. Hasn’t worked for years, and it’s on the list of things Lucian plans to do. I told him not to mess with electricity, but he assures me he knows what he’s doing. I don’t believe him.

He pulls the door open, giving me a look that I can only describe as relieved. He knows I wouldn’t be here for anything less than making amends .

“Hi,” I say simply, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“Hi,” he responds, his expression not changing.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

He steps aside, giving me room to walk. The house looks the same, besides a few things that have been moved around.

The smell of paint lingers in the air, but I don’t see a fresh coat on the kitchen walls or the living room.

Maybe a room upstairs. Or the office or bathroom.

I haven’t been gone all that long, so he couldn’t have done too much in here.

I turn to face Lucian, forcing my feet to stay where they are, even though there’s a little voice in my head telling me to go back to my car.

Fuck that voice. I want nothing more than to lunge for him and beg for him to hold me and fuck me until I feel better, but that isn’t going to fix anything.

That’s temporary. I have wounds that I need to heal, and sex is just a band-aid.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I thought of how I would have this conversation all the way here. I considered all the words I could use to say what I need to say, but I think it comes down to just two simple ones.” I step to him, putting my hand on his hip and hoping like hell he doesn’t shove me away.

He isn’t like that, but… I’m still scared he’s going to reject me. “I’m sorry.”

Lucian gives me a small smile, and neither of us says a word for a long moment.

We just stand there, staring at each other.

I can’t tell what he’s thinking, though that’s nothing new.

He’s hard to read. I’m fighting all the emotions inside me—mostly the fear of him telling me to get the fuck out.

My hand slips from his hip, but he catches my wrist and brings my hand to his chest, putting it right over his heart and stepping forward.

“I’m sorry too, Kolton.”

“You have no reason to be sorry, Lucian. You did nothing wrong.”

“I’ve done a lot of things wrong, when it comes to us.

I said I would never treat you as if you were fragile, that’s what I did.

I should have laid out everything that was going on with Beth and I; I should have been crystal clear in it all, but I wasn’t.

I was afraid that if I told you the details, outright, you would run and not give me a chance. I was a coward.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say firmly. “It’s mine. I made you feel that way because of my reaction, which would have been uncalled for. You shouldn’t have felt that way.”

He lets go of my wrist and steps even closer, cupping my face. His eyes search mine.

“I love you,” he says. “And I’d love for us to sit down and talk about everything so we can move forward properly.”

I breathe out a relieved sigh, grasping at his shirt. “I think that’s a good idea. But—“I bring my hands to the sides of his neck. “I need to kiss you first.”

“Please do.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to his, and my body fills with warmth. This is where I am supposed to be, this is how things are supposed to be. He and I are meant to be together. We have to be. There is no way this can be wrong or not meant to be .

He lets out a soft grunt, his grip tightening on my face, and I begrudgingly pull away, pressing my forehead to his.

“Talk before sex.”

He chuckles. “Party pooper.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I pull it back.

“I want to be better for you. I need to work on a lot of things, and I know I can do that with you.”

“You can do anything you want all by yourself, Kolton.”

“But it’s easier when I’m with you.”

He kisses me again, a soft lingering kiss.

“What do you want to eat? I don’t have much, but I’m sure we can figure something out,” he says as he heads into the kitchen.

“Anything is fine.”

I consider telling him about Beth, but now isn’t the time.

I’d rather talk about us first, and then I’ll tell him about her visiting.

Or maybe I won’t. Maybe it’ll be her and I’s little secret.

I don’t have secrets with people, and not that this is a big deal, but it kind of feels important. Special.

“I have chicken, or we can have breakfast.”

“Oh, you know I want pancakes.”

He chuckles, closing the fridge and pulling out the box from the cabinet.

Together, we work on making pancakes. He mixes up the batter and starts cooking them while I pull out berries from his fridge to make a compote.

I find cream on the top shelf, so when everything is almost done, I make fresh whipped cream .

When we’re finished eating, we go to the sun room, which is freshly painted with new furniture.

“This looks nice.”

“One room at a time,” he says.

We each take a chair, and then we talk.

We talk more than we ever had before, one conversation leading into another.

I don’t hold anything back. I spill everything to him.

I’ve never been so vulnerable in my life, but I’m on a roll and each word gets easier to say—the more I tell him, and the more he doesn’t judge me or complain or say anything bad, the more I want to say.

I can trust him. He isn’t my father or some other piece of shit I’ve dealt with over the years.

Lucian is a good man, and he’s mine.