She takes a deep breath, and upon exhaling, her shoulders relax. “It’s weird. Part of me wants him to be okay, but then there’s this other part of me that hopes he’s not.” She sits back and slumps in her chair. “If Rex ever gets his hands on him . . .”
Only nightmares could do justice to what Rex would do if he were confronted with Hatch again. Rex and Gia are like one soul, bound together for life and beyond. I’ve never seen anything like it, except for with my parents. Their love transcends all understanding, survives through the most tragic of life’s events, even death.
What would it be like to feel that kind of love? I can’t even imagine being at a point in my life where I’m free enough to experience it.
“Anyway, I’m sorry I brought it up.” She waves me off with a flick of her slender fingers.
I pick at my warming beer bottle. “Can I ask you a question? What was it like living in the MC compound? Did you, I don’t know, hear or see anything that freaked you out?”
“I was out of it most of the time. If I wasn’t, I’m sure it all would’ve been pretty freaky.” Her eyes go unfocused over my shoulder. “They had prospects that they’d push around: young guys who one day would be serving drinks and taking their shit and then swagger in with their cuts and emblems as full-fledged members. They would talk a lot about rites of passage and being bonded by blood.” She tucks her bright orange hair behind her ear. “I didn’t really hang out to listen.”
“I’m glad you got out of there. That could’ve ended very differently.” A shiver tracks down my spine.
“Because of you, Trix. You saved my life by going to Rex. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
“No need to. That’s what friends do.”
A wicked grin curls her lips. “Speaking of friends . . . I don’t care what you say. I know there’s something going on between you and Mason.”
My stomach bottoms out at his name. “There’s not—”
“Stop denying it!” She slaps her palm on the table and leans in to whisper. “Mason was going to rip Lane’s arms off right there in my kitchen.”
I groan and drop my head into my hand. “Nothing’s going on. I’m just as confused as you, I promise.” I push back and down the rest of my beer. “We keep running into each other, and every time we do, I can’t tell if he wants to kiss me or kill me.”
“In my limited experience, I’d say if he likes you he wants to do both.”
Likes me? Mason likes me? Do I like him? A swarm of butterflies takes flight in my belly, answering my internal question.
Oh shit! That’s not good. Sure, his hot-cold routine keeps me guessing. He’s definitely not hard on the eyes with his casual just-walked-off-a-Quicksilver-photo-shoot look. My body heats at the thought of his strong hands on me, his mouth covering mine, and his breath at my neck.
I slurp down some water, hoping to cool the heat, and search for a quick subject change. “You guys still looking for a house?”
She glares. “Nice try.” Her eyes study me so intently that it takes everything in me to not give her what she’s asking for and admit I maybe kinda dig Mason. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone for now. Just know he’s a really good guy, Trix. You could do worse.”
“Ha! All I’ve ever done is worse.” Mason’s too good for me. Too clean. Unburdened.
We sit and chat for another hour before our butts numb and our jaws are exhausted.
I drop Gia off at home and drive blindly the few blocks to my place. Most of our casual girls’ nights out aren’t littered with the heavy conversation we had tonight. Next time we’ll stick with a more standard less thought-provoking topic.
I pull into the garage, thankful that my roommate’s car isn’t there. She spends most nights during the week with her boyfriend. Not that I mind. She pays her rent on time, and I get the house to myself.
Grabbing my hobo-chic purse in the dark, I hear the contents ping-ponging down between the seats. “Dammit.” I reach over and fish up much as I can, shoving it back into my bag.
I push out of the car and, in one step, almost slam into the towering figure of a man. I gasp and clench my chest. “Holy shit!” My eyes tighten into a glare. “What are you doing here?”
Eight
Mason
What am I doing here? Excellent question.
I was forced to listen to Lane talk about Trix while playing poker, so caught up in his graphic descriptions of his time with her that I ended up losing all my money along with my patience. He’d called her a “groupie,” said she was “fun to play with,” and as if that weren’t enough to have me wanting to lunge? he’d made reference to the fact that the whole band had had her.
The whole band!
When I turned my glare to Rex, I fantasized about the next time we’d step into the octagon together. I imagined crushing his throat under my forearm until the fucker passed out. He must’ve felt what was coming because he quickly clarified that he was excluded from that statement. He had never been with her.