And I didn’t understand.
My heart cracked a little more, the scars of our love aching. It seemed that’s all we were destined for. Scars and hurt. And an inability to make this work.
“I love you, Evie,” he started and then stopped abruptly, like he was searching for the right words. “But I fuckin’ hate the power you have over me.” His words bled with the conflict he was obviously experiencing. “Fuck, that didn’t come out right,” he muttered. His eyes pleaded with me to understand, begged me not to walk away from this, but rather to stay and fight.
And so that’s what I did.
I fought for Kick.
I moved to him, and placed my hand on his chest. He flinched, but I ignored it. Kick needed my love. He needed to know this would be okay, and that we would battle our way through any obstacles that came at us. My counsellor instincts kicked in. “What power do I have over you?”
He took a deep breath and I felt his heart beating fast in his chest. “You have the power to fuck my loyalties up.” His words were raw and honest, and I loved him even more for that. I loved that he gave me that because it meant we could go forward from a place of truth.
“Your loyalty to your club?”
“Yes.” His voice was forceful, demanding, as if he wanted me to fix it for him.
But I couldn’t fix this for him. I could only try to help him sort through the mess of emotions and thoughts rushing at him.
“Why does your love for me have to affect that, Kick? Why can’t you have loyalty to both of us?”
“Because if shit ever goes down, it could mean that one day I will have to make a choice. You or the club.”
Clarity hit me square in the chest. “That’s the real reason why you kept walking away from me, isn’t it?’ I asked quietly.
He stared at me for a long time, processing that. And then his face contorted in torment and he nodded. “I think so,” he whispered, “but I never realised that until just now.”
I asked the one question that had to be answered in order for us to take another step on this journey together. The answer to this question would determine our future. “Can you get past that anger at me?” I held my breath, waiting for him to reply.
Willing him to say the one word I desperately wanted him to say.
“I’m not angry at you, baby. I’m angry at myself.” His gaze softened, and my heart soared at his admission, but it confused me even further.
My eyebrows drew together. “Why?”
The air crackled with his ferocious love. It blazed for me to see and feel. “Because I love you, and I’ve always fuckin’ loved you. I might not like the power you have over me, but I’m fuckin’ angry with myself for even thinking I should put you second to the club. You’ve always come first, and you always will. I just couldn’t admit that to myself until today.”
We’d had many moments of honesty since we’d found each other again, but I felt this one deep in my heart. This really was a defining moment for us and I needed to find a way to show Kick that I got it, that I understood the depth of his feelings for me.
I moved my hand from his chest to his face, gently placing it on his cheek. Shifting closer to him, I kissed his lips. His arms circled me, pulling me even closer. My arms moved up and around his neck, and my fingers worked their way into his hair. Our kiss deepened, and we expressed our love in the best way we knew how. Our lips, tongues and bodies communicated on a deeper level than our words would ever be able to.
When I ended the kiss, I said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Kick. I want you to love me, and hate me, and fight with me, and make up with me, and do it over and over. I want you forever.”
His arms tightened around me. “Thank fuck, ‘cause you’re stuck with me. You’re mine now, baby, and I’m yours, and there’s nothing that will stop me from fighting for us.”
He spent the rest of the night blessing my body with his love, and I thanked the universe for giving him back to me.
By the time my eyes closed from sheer exhaustion hours later, I knew we’d finally come full circle. The promises we’d made each other as teenagers would be fulfilled.
We’d never give up on each other again.
***
The next morning, I rushed into the kitchen to grab breakfast before heading out to work. Kick had monopolised my time again this morning, causing me to be late again.
He watched me from the table where he drank his coffee, and gave me a cheeky grin. God, I loved that grin, but fuck, I couldn’t afford to be distracted by him again. “You okay, baby?” he asked, knowing full well I was stressing about running late.
I held my hand up at him. “Don’t talk to me,” I muttered as I rummaged through my bag looking for my phone. I ignored his snicker. When I couldn’t locate my phone, I looked up at him, and asked, “Have you seen my phone?”