Page 16

Tessa

“Can I get you another cup of coffee?”

My voice is steady, but my hands are anything but. I grip the carafe a little tighter, forcing a smile for the older gentleman at the counter.

Suddenly, a dish crashes from the back, the sharp sound slicing through the clatter of the diner.

I jump.

Like a reflex hardwired into my bones, my body tenses, and I nearly spill the coffee. My heart kicks up in my chest like it’s been sucker-punched.

“Hey, you alright there?”

His eyes are kind, brows raised with genuine concern. He’s just a customer. Just another regular. But I’m nearly shaking in front of him.

“I’m fine,” I lie quickly, forcing out a light laugh. “When a dish breaks, it reminds me of my grandmother tossing one at my grandfather.”

He chuckles, like it’s a funny memory. “Oh, I’ve been in that situation before.”

I pour his coffee, nod, and excuse myself like it’s nothing. But it isn’t.

I rush to the back, into the tiny bathroom, and slam the door shut behind me. My breaths come fast, too shallow. I grip the sink hard enough to make my knuckles white, staring at myself in the mirror.

“Get it together, Tessa,” I whisper, teeth clenched. “You’ve lived here for years with no problems. You’re letting your past fears creep into your present. You’re better than this.”

I exhale slowly, trying to calm the racing in my chest.

But the truth is, this last week has unraveled me. The ground I’ve worked so damn hard to rebuild under my feet is cracking, splintering under the weight of memories I thought I buried.

And Torrent, he watches me now like I’m this fragile thing. Like I’m going to snap. Like he’s just waiting for the moment he has to swoop in and carry me off like some tragic heroine in one of those old paperbacks.

And I fucking hate it.

I don’t need saving. I don’t need to be looked at like glass. I need to be treated the way he used to with equal parts challenge and temptation. Not like a bomb that he’s afraid to set off.

Maybe being with him was a mistake.

He doesn’t realize it, but trouble follows him like a shadow. He deserves someone solid. Someone safe. Not a woman who’s constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for ghosts she hasn’t told him about.

Someone who might just bring more trouble than he’s prepared for.

“Tessa, you okay? You’ve got customers,” Megan’s voice filters through the door.

Shit.

“Yeah, be right there.”

I run my hands down my apron, force another smile, and open the door like everything’s fine. Like I’m not barely holding myself together.

Megan meets me with a shrug. “Sorry, but there are some bikers here looking for you.”

Her words freeze me in place. My heart stutters. My stomach twists. I brace myself against the wall, willing myself not to panic.

No. No. No. Not them. Not here.

I suck in a few steady breaths, then make myself walk to the front counter.

The relief I feel when I see Finch and Crab sitting there is so intense it nearly knocks me over. My smile this time is real.

“Hey guys, what can I get you?”

Finch reaches across the counter and grabs my hand. His face is soft, almost pleading.

“Look, don’t tell Torrent we were here.”

I tense, instinctively pulling back. “What the hell is going on?” I glance between the two of them, alarm crawling up my spine again.

Crab elbows, Finch. “Tell her.”

“Seriously, guys. What the fuck is going on?”

I’m scared again, but this time it’s different. More immediate.

Finch lets out a breath. “It’s not really our business, but Torrent has been in a mood since the other night. When Drift and I were at his place, something shifted. He’s pissed. Constantly yelling. And before that? He was happy. Like, really fucking happy.”

He looks at me carefully. “If you guys are fighting, I’m not trying to get in it. But can you fix it? We need our President back.”

God.

It is about me. About the way I reacted the other night when I heard about the Scorpions. He saw it in my face, how my entire world went sideways.

“I’ll talk to him,” I whisper.

“Please don’t tell him we came here,” Crab adds quickly. “He’ll kill us. Literally.”

I place one hand on each of theirs. “Guys. Trust me. I know how to keep a secret. He won’t hear a word from me. You have my word.”

“Thanks. We need to get outta here,” Crab says, standing.

But Finch lingers, eyes studying me. “I know you won’t say anything.

It’s obvious you’ve got your own secrets.

I just hope none of them are things you’re keeping from Torrent.

” He hesitates. “Em said she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you.

Is that the problem? Is Torrent jealous of your time with her? ”

His words hit like a sucker punch. The guilt twists so hard I nearly double over. Everything feels like it’s unraveling, and I’m the loose thread pulling it apart.

“Finch, I’ve just been swamped with work during the day and spending time with Torrent at night. I haven’t had a minute to breathe, let alone text Em. But Torrent isn’t mad about her. I swear.”

And I do swear. But I’m not sure I believe myself.

Something’s gotta give. This tightrope I’m walking between my past and my present it’s getting harder to balance. But I think I know what I need to do.

“Now go,” I say, soft but firm. “Things will get better. You have my word.”

Finch leans over the counter and presses a light kiss to my cheek. It’s the kind of simple affection that breaks something in me.

“Thanks, Tessa. Torrent isn’t the only one who got lucky when you came into his life. We all did.”

I watch them leave, Crab tossing a wink at Megan and Finch throwing me one last look.

And then I’m alone again, behind the counter, my chest tightening with emotion I can’t name.

Tears well, but I blink them back.

I need to fix this before the past I’ve buried destroys the only good thing I’ve found in years.

The bell over the diner door rings as I’m wiping down the counter for the last time tonight, and I know it’s him without even turning around.

Torrent always walks like he owns the world, like he could break it in half if he wanted to, but chooses not to. There’s this heavy confidence in his steps, a silent warning and a comfort all at once.

When I finally glance over my shoulder, our eyes meet, and I manage a smile.

Not the real kind. Not the broken kind either.

Something in between. Something he needs.

“Hey, handsome,” I say, untangling the apron from my waist and tossing it under the counter. “Come to sweep me off my feet?”

His lip twitches, almost a smile but not quite.

“Wouldn’t dream of lettin’ anyone else try.”

We don’t say much as we leave. His hand finds the small of my back, that familiar touch grounding me as we step out into the warm night air. He offers me his hand to get onto his bike without a word, and I climb on, wrapping my arms around his waist.

The ride to his place is silent, but not the good kind of silence. It’s thick, heavy with all the shit neither of us is saying. I rest my head against his back and hope that the wind against my skin can carry it all away.

But it doesn’t.

It just carries it home with us.

The second we walk through his front door, I know I can’t let the silence keep spreading. It’ll suffocate us both.

So, I become her. The girl he knows. The girl he met. The girl he fell for.

I drop my bag and toe off my shoes, pulling my shirt over my head in one smooth motion and letting it fall to the floor with a grin. “So, we having beer and pizza? Or am I making grilled cheese in nothing but a bra again?”

That gets him.

Torrent’s head tilts back with a short laugh, and his eyes drop to my chest. “You forget pants too, or is this just a new uniform?”

“That depends. Is it working?” I ask, winking.

His smirk is real this time. “It’s definitely doing something.”

I watch him closely, cataloging every twitch in his jaw, every shift in his eyes. The more I flirt, the more I joke, the more his shoulders start to drop. That tension, tight and wound and angry, starts to ease off him like sweat.

He grabs two beers from the fridge and tosses me one. I catch it with a smile.

“See?” I say, popping the cap off mine. “I’m cute and have reflexes. I’m a goddamn unicorn.”

He chuckles as he leans against the counter, watching me like I’m the answer to a question he doesn’t want to ask.

“You’re a fuckin’ menace,” he says, but there’s no heat in it. Just affection.

I lean on my elbows, sipping my beer, pretending like my heart isn’t caving in on itself.

Because I see it now.

The weight he’s been carrying.

I saw it in Finch and Crab’s eyes when they looked at me today. Saw it in the way Torrent barely spoke when he picked me up.

He's hurting. Because of me.

Because I pulled away.

Because I flinched.

Because I’m not who he thinks I am, not entirely.

And still, he looks at me like I’m worth all of it.

So, I laugh too loud and tease too much and run my fingers over his knuckles when I pass him, hoping the electricity between us is enough to burn away the fear.

“You’re quieter than usual,” I say, curling up on the couch with my beer, legs tucked under me. “What, my boobs not distracting enough tonight?”

Torrent raises an eyebrow. “Nah, they’re doin’ fine. I’m just waitin’ for the other shoe to drop.”

My smile falters for a second. Just a second. But I recover fast.

“Well, it’s a damn good thing I only wear sandals then.”

He shakes his head and finally, finally, laughs. A real one. Full. Rough. Deep. The sound of it hits my chest like a punch.

I joke and flirt and keep it light because I want to give him something solid again. Something he can count on. Not another problem to carry.

I want to be the reason the guys get their President back. The man they trust. The man they’d follow into hell.

Even if I’m standing in the middle of it, pretending I’m not already burning.

I follow him to the bedroom after we finish our beers, my hand brushing against his as we walk down the hall. It’s a subtle move, but he catches it. He always does.

When he closes the door behind us, I sit on the edge of the bed and pull my legs underneath me, watching as he peels off his shirt. God, he’s gorgeous. Tattooed, rough, lean muscle. Built like he was carved to ruin someone. Maybe me. Probably already has.

He tosses the shirt into the hamper and sits beside me, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. The silence stretches, but I break it before the weight of it crushes us again.

“You know what I think?” I ask softly.

He glances over at me with those stormy eyes. “What’s that?”

I reach up and gently touch the corner of his mouth. “I think you’re sexier when you smile.”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re trouble, woman.”

“You like it.”

“Yeah. That’s the fuckin’ problem.”

We don’t say anything else for a moment. We just breathe.

I shift onto my knees and straddle his lap, my hands finding his chest. His eyes darken, hands automatically settling on my thighs like they belong there, which they do.

I’ve stayed hidden in plain sight all week. We haven’t touched more than a casual kiss goodbye.

That needs to change.

So, I kiss him slowly. Deep. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just real.

He kisses me back like he needs it more than air.

And maybe he does, because I sure as hell do.

The weight of the week, of all the things neither of us have said, it’s there between every touch, every moan, every grip of skin.

We get our clothes off quickly, and Torrent lowers himself on top of me. Skin on skin. Eyes connected. Souls being exposed.

I run my fingers through his hair and pull him to me.

His lips brush against mine and as his tongue enters my mouth, his cock pushes inside me.

I moan, and he tightens his hold on me. Maybe to make sure I’m still here, still real.

He’s not rough with me, not tonight.

He’s worshipping me, like he needs to prove something to both of us, that we’re still us. That he still has me.

His moves are slow and calculated, stretching me out and putting me back together all at once.

I break the kiss only to moan as his piercing hits right where it should.

“Oh, Torrent,” I moan, digging my fingers into his back.

“Fuck, Tessa, you feel so good. I missed you. I needed you.”

His words are too much, and I close my eyes to keep the tears from spilling.

We move together slow and gentle. Not rushing. Making this feeling last as long as possible.

He needs it.

I need it.

The way he moves, the way he holds me like I’m the only thing tethering him to earth, makes my heart hurt that much more.

He picks up the pace, just a fraction, but it’s enough to send my body into overdrive. The worries disappear, temporarily, as the building of my release takes over.

“I’m so close,” I cry out.

He reaches between us and rubs my clit and I arch off the bed.

“Let go, baby. Let it all go with your orgasm.”

I can’t fight it. I can’t hold back. The buildup has been too much.

“Torrent.” My voice echoes around us as my release crashes over me.

Wave after wave, trying to wash away the fear and doubts.

He drives into me a few more times before his orgasm finds him and he stills above me.

“Tessa,” he groans, locking his eyes with mine.

He falls onto me, holding me like a lifeline.

It’s quiet for a while. The kind of quiet that feels like peace.

We lie tangled in the sheets, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my hip, his breathing steady against my shoulder.

I keep my eyes on the ceiling, because if I look at him now, I’ll start crying and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.

“You good?” he asks, voice low and raspy.

I nod against his chest. Lie.

“Torrent?”

“What baby?”

His voice is soft and gentle. Completely relaxed and dare I say, happy.

“I love you. I love you so damn much it hurts.”

He holds me tightly, just how I need.

“I love you, too, baby. I love you more than I love myself.”

I hope that’s not true.