Page 162 of Tied to You

No one else is around. The faint sound of cars on the motorway can be heard. Their distant headlights proving how far I rode. We’re miles away from home. At least an hour’s ride from the clubhouse. Is that how long I sat and tortured myself for after taking his call?

“You look like shit.”

I guess so.

His tone isn’t as harsh as I was expecting. “I feel it,” I reply. Grateful he isn’t coming down hard on me.

“Then this shouldn’t hurt.” I look up but I’m too late. His fist slams through my face, knocking me to my arse. My nose erupts, blood trickling to my top lip.

Blinking away the stars, I see him stand over me, slowly moving to holdout a hand. He’s angry. But more than anything, he’s here.

His shoulders drop when he drags me to my feet and he gets in front of me. If there’s anything I know about the man looking me up and down the way he is now, it’s that we—his men, the men who ride for him, mean the fucking world to him.

He’s the same height as me. Our eyes are in perfect alignment. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

Sometimes, our respect for brotherhood and leadership comes out in a way we know best. With our fists. I deserve so much more than one punch. I still have no idea what’s happened with Dean and the deal, but I can see that’s not how he’s going to handle me right now. Can he see my pain? Does he know what happened with Mollie?

I nod, delayed, and he shakes his head. “Why are you here?” I ask, one hand going to my pocket in need of a smoke. There are none.

Rocco sees, reaching into his cut and passing me his. “Seriously?”

Accepting one, I light it and taste the coppery twang on the end. I wipe the blood away with the back of my hand, sniffing, looking at him as I blow out the smoke. “I know I fucked up.”

“Yeah. You did.” He gets a text which he reads with a deep breath out. “You were supposed to be there.”

I take another inhale. “I’m sorry. Me and Mollie… we…” I don’t finish my sentence.

He looks toward the hotel. “You stayed here, away from everyone for two days because of something that happened between you and Mollie?”

My eyes slide to his, and he watches me, scrubbing a hand over his face. I can’t read his expression. I’m tired. But I can see him thinking. “It’s done.”

“Is that so?”

I nod.

“I’m guessing she left you?”

I let out a small snort of air. You’d think so. “It was me who left.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because she’s,” I grind my teeth, knowing I have to tell him, “she’s pregnant.” With my baby. “I’m going to be a dad.” My head drops. I’m ashamed I’m not happier. I’m also disgusted that I suggested she get rid of it.

Rocco takes me in, staring at me for a beat. I don’t miss the scornful lookhe gives me before he turns and swipes at his phone, bashing out a message to someone. “What did you do?”

When he turns, I smile, demented, before taking another long drag on the cigarette. “Told her I thought she tried to trap me.” I’m a cunt.

“And did she?”

I hate how much he’s making me talk. “I,” I turn around, “I don’t fucking know.”

After a few moments of silence, I walk to my bike, taking a seat.

“What’s really going on?” he asks, his voice hard.

I throw my cigarette to the ground. “Nothing I can’t handle. I just need a few days to get over it.” What will I do? Wallow? Pity myself like the old days? Drink? Jesus.

“Bullshit.” He clicks his teeth, sitting on his bike next to mine. “Sometimes you can’t handle these things or forget them. Some things stick with you. Rot you from the inside.”