“I don’t understand.” Noble’s eyebrows pinched together as he looked me up and down, probably searching for a wound or anything that would clue him in on my breakdown.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I cried, the conversation beginning to spin out of control. “I’m so stupid … I … fork in the microwave … So stupid … I’m sorry!”
His expression only became more baffled the longer I spoke until he finally decided he’d had enough.
“Mallory!” he snapped with an authoritative fire I had never heard before.
I snapped up straight, my spine stiffening like a board until I found myself looking him straight in the face as he leaned down to my height.
He gave a relieved sigh and brushed a strand of my messy red hair behind my ear. He curled his hand into a fist and, with the gentleness I adored, bumped it ever so softly under my chin, forcing my eyes up to his.
“There you are.” A relieved smile played on his lips. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we? What are you sorry for?”
I probably should have said it better, phrased it differently, but the verbal diarrhea was the only option, overriding my fear. “I’m pregnant.”
I could hear the walls of his life crumbling around him as he went still. His arms fell away from me, and I watched his black boots take one long stride back. The distance between us was suffocating.
“You said you were on birth control,” he accused, the natural warmth in his voice gone. It was now cold, detached, distant.
That was what it came down to. One itsy bitsy little lie that had spun so out of control it was like I was on a roller coaster, waiting for it to crash.
“I’m so sorry,” I spouted, fresh tears in my eyes.
What else was I supposed to say? I had lied so I could have him in a moment of lust inspired by a childhood crush. Now I had brought this upon him. A child was supposed to be a gift. However, a man who was as wild and free as him, it would hold him back … Trap him.
“You lied to me?” Gone was the cold, detached voice, and in came the furious betrayal and anger.
“I didn’t mean to … I-I just …” I had never been good with people getting angry at me. I submitted after the first five minutes to avoid conflict. But this? This was ten times worse because it was all my fault.
“Just, what!” he roared. “You’re like them, aren’t you?”
It didn’t take a genius to know who he was talking about—those girls I never wanted to be. The ones who trap men like I was trapping him.
“You wanted to cage me, didn’t you?” His voice was harsh like a whip, lashing against my soul and leaving an agonizing burn wherever it touched. “You wanted me all to yourself, like everybody else.”
“No!” I wailed. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me why?” he demanded. “I thought you weren’t that kind of girl.”
I opened my mouth to tell him everything—the truth—but before I could get the words out, my jaw snapped shut.
When I recited my reasons in my head, that was when I realized what I would say wasn’t much better. It wouldn’t excuse anything. I had promised that one night would be a one-time thing. Only now it was crumbling to pieces because of one stupid mistake.
Of course, he didn’t know about the huge crush I had held for the last ten years. He didn’t know how many nights I had dreamed about having the single opportunity to lie with him after hitting puberty, and how many hours I had spent thinking how nice it would be to live a life with him.
I had been in love with him for years from afar, knowing he would never have wanted this. And it all happened because of my selfish desire to have one night with him, because neither of us had a condom. I knew, if it hadn’t happened that night, I wouldn’t have had the same opportunity ever again. That was why I knew right then I couldn’t tell him any of that.
Noble was right. I had trapped him. Not on purpose, but I had trapped him into sleeping with me. And now I was trapping him with this. I couldn’t tell him the truth.
So, I lied.
“There was no reason,” I whispered, my voice as small as the size I felt. I was the smallest, most insignificant piece of dirt in the world. “I lied.”
With a harsh jerk of his chin, he turned and walked back inside, slamming the door shut behind him, accepting what I had said without a shadow of a doubt.
Who knew it would be the last time I ever saw him?
One
Hunter
Three and a half years later…
“Adair!”
The blond-haired child turned to face the woman who was calling him. He was in the front yard, his face covered in mud that couldn’t hide the distinct green eyes that stood out against the small square jaw he harbored beneath his baby fat.
He looked at the open doorway, and then at the worm in his hand with panic. Then he toddled over to the bushes and threw the worm into it just as his mother appeared in the doorway.
She took one look at his dirty face and hands, and scowled. “Adair Michael Ward,” she growled, stalking across the lawn to stand in front of him, hands set on the small curves of her waist, looking down with her disapproving mom stare.
Adair smiled, hiding his hands behind his back like she hadn’t seen him.
She raised an eyebrow before giving a heavy sigh and scooping the child up. “What have I told you about getting covered in mud?” She might have passed for mad had she not been trying to fight the light-hearted smile turning the corner of her lips.
Her eyes went soft with adoration at the child’s features. His happy smile was all that was needed to completely win her over.
“Sorry, Mommy.” Adair pouted.
Mallory May Ward narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to do it again?”
Adair shook his head with such force his chubby cheeks wobbled. “No.”
Mallory waited a few seconds before she caved, and at the change in her expression, the little rug rat slung his arms around her neck and squeezed.
After a few minutes of cuddling in the front yard, Mallory turned with her son in her arms and walked up the drive of the old Denver ranch house that was one accidental bump from collapsing.
Once they were inside, I fired up my engine and drove the last few feet toward the front of the house, pulling my liquid ink Harley up onto the driveway and cutting the engine.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a face dart from the window as I swung my leg off the back of the machine. My cut hung over the expanse of my back, my colors and patches clearly showing who I was. Or, at least who I belonged to.
I knew Mallory wouldn’t recognize me. She would, however, recognize the black-winged skull stamped on my back, and her reaction would be as I predicted.
I heard silence from the house that only moments ago had been filled with laughter, and as I approached the door, I heard the sharp click of the chain link behind it.
Like that would stop me.