Wicked (Diamondback MC 7)

My ass hits the floor with a thud, my body racked with big, ugly sobs as tears pour out of my eyes, hiccups coming left and right. Even biting my own fist doesn’t stop the sound from vibrating around me in the too-small space.

“Ah fuck, butterfly.” Bennett slams the door open and crouches down, picking me up with one arm around my back and the other under my legs. I turn into him, letting the pain out one excruciating cry at a time.

7

SHADOW

I knew it was a matter of time until she’d break down. I was hoping like hell it would happen in front of me. I should have known better. Shila doesn’t like to let her guard down, at least she didn’t back then, and it seems it’s much the same now. The way she burrowed into me when I picked her up, getting as close as possible, it fucking tore at my heart, and shit, I thought those feelings inside of me were long gone.

“You gotta stop, Shila. Take a deep breath, butterfly.” I’m sitting on her couch. She’s in my lap, crying for the least twenty minutes since I found her. Who knows how long she was doing it before then.

“I can’t.” She takes a deep breath, lifts her head out of the crook of my neck before dropping it back to where it was, and says, “Bennett, I feel like this is a dream, having you here so unexpectedly. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then it’ll be like this didn’t even happen.”

“Not goin’ anywhere, not if I have my way. Which I will. It’s you and me. Put the bullshit behind you and let’s work on gettin’ you secure in that mindset. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to the brothers. They’ll wanna meet you. I’ll tell them about our past, but, butterfly, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I tell her again, needing to get that through to her.

“My mind knows that, it really does, but my stupid heart is not on the same operating system.” She slows down on her crying. It doesn’t matter that her face is splotchy or that she’s trying to suck back the tears that are never ending. She’s still fucking beautiful to me.

“Then we’ll have to get you all worked out.” Her dark towel is a contradiction to her fair complexion.

“Don’t you look at me like that, Bennett Jacob Futch,” Shila calls me out on getting a glimpse of her.

“Fuck, I’m a dick. You might wanna get dressed. That towel slips even an inch more, and I’ll be seeing way more than you’re prepared for.” I stand up, helping her in the process, and damn it if her back isn’t just as fucking mouthwatering as her front.

“Bennett.” She feels the pull between us. Years later, and nothing has changed. Time might have changed our bodies and where we live, but not the simmering undercurrent of who we’ve always been together.

“Yep, go on. Pizza, salad, and Sprite are almost here.” I smack her ass lightly, getting her to get a move on, when she spins around, stands on the tips of her toes, and kisses me.

“Butterfly,” I groan into her mouth, deepening the kiss, our tongues tasting one another, and if it weren’t for the crying jag she just had, I’d be stripping her of the barely-there towel that’s wrapped around her curvy-as-fuck body, picking her up, letting the towel drop, and carrying her sweet ass to bed.

“Be back in a minute.” She pulls away even though I’m not ready, this time a smile gracing her face.

“Fuckin’ right you will. If I need to come get you, neither of us will be leavin’ your room, butterfly.” She scurries away, ass jiggling, and laughing. Shit, I love that sound a hell of a lot better than her crying.

8

SHILA

I wake up alone. It didn’t matter how much pleading and begging I did last night after our dinner, Bennett was adamant about taking our relationship slow to help build back what we had in the past. Of course, he’s right. This is what needs to be done, and those words did not taste good coming out of my mouth when he called me after making it back to his room at The Breezeway. After I got dressed, our food was delivered. We sat in my living room without the television on. There was no background noise of any kind, and we talked. When I started to close down, I put myself back in that place where being alone was easier than meeting new people and making friends. Bennett wouldn’t have it, though, he’d start on a different subject to keep the conversation flowing. Little did I realize that he somehow avoided talking about himself.

That sneaky turd. The next time I see him, I’ll be confronting him, especially about what he’s been up to since we’ve been apart, besides the club that is his family without actually being his blood family. Which, don’t get me wrong, I’m so thankful he found a soft place to land. If anyone deserves that, it’s Bennett. God, I remember the first time I saw him. He was a junior to my freshman year, a total bad boy with longer hair, jeans that were well worn, and always wearing a jacket. What set Bennett aside from any of the other guys in our school was that what you saw was what you got. I was a cheerleader, used to having so-called friends, being with the ‘in’ crowd. That all changed when we became friends and then boyfriend and girlfriend. I saw Bennett, truly saw through the bad boy persona he tried to hide behind. For one thing, he was ridiculously smart even though he hated the idea of school. It’s why he was going to trade school instead. He never wanted to rely on another person for a place to sleep, eat, or shower. Which is something he clearly has managed to do.