Amira has been answering everything quickly, like she had all her passionate speeches outlined and ready to go as soon as he kicked in the door. But this time, she hesitates for a few beats before answering.
“I can't tell you that. It wouldn't be fair to her. And I don't want her found. She deserves to be free. I don't know anything about this debt Hades thinks he’s owed. And I’m aware your world operates on different rules. But Persy is innocent, and she’s smart, and she doesn't deserve to be kept like a dog for the rest of her life.”
“Angel…” It’s an endearment, but he growls it like a threat.
“Waylon,” she growls right back. “You need to believe me. I could've left on my own at any time. I could've asked one of your family members to help me. But I didn’t want to do that. I knew Nashville was a test, and all I wanted was to pass it. Because I love you. And if the choice is whether to stay or go—”
“You went!” he reminds her. His voice is a boom of accusation in the small room. “You left me.”
“No, no, I didn’t leave you,” she insists. Her voice takes on a pleading note, like all she wants in this entire world is for him to believe that. “I was planning to return. I wasn't ever going to get on that bus with Stephanie. My plan the entire time was to come back. Because I want to be with you. I want to have children with you. I want to figure out how to be okay with being crazy with you. I want our house and our life in Angel Pond. I want it all with you. That’s the one-hundred percent truth.”
Was that really the truth? Weirdly, I sort of believe her even though she didn’t share her real plan with him or me. She sounds so righteous. Like she truly believes. In them. In this love she thinks they share.
“And Waylon, I know you were testing me.…” she says, her voice cracking. “But I was testing you too. This is your final exam. If you want what I want, you need to believe in me. You need to trust in us even when it looks the worst. Because we’re not our parents. We love each other, and we’re dedicated to each other. And we deserve what we could be together after what happened to us.”
The stakes are so high for me.
Everything rides on him believing her story.
But I listen to her speech with my heart in my throat, on the edge of my seat for reasons that have nothing to do with me.
I want him to believe her. I want him to pass her test. I want them to have the kind of life, the kind of love that never would’ve been possible for Hades and me.
“I love you,” Amira whispers so softly I have to strain to hear her. “Please understand why I had to do this.”
There comes another Fairgood silence. The longest one of all.
I hold my breath with my heart quivering inside my chest like a piece of string under tension.
Then Waylon says, “I'm checking the closet.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! That’s all I have time to think before Waylon rips open the door.
And looks straight down at me.
CHAPTER 21
DOC
The weekend after Thanksgiving is always hopping at the roadhouse, but it's especially noisy this year.
There are so many guys getting drinks at the bar I'm pretty sure between this weekend and Christmas, I'll make enough money to pay off my student loans. Which means I'll be able to go into my residence as an OB/GYN specialist without having a massive amount of debt hanging over my head.
I’m in a pretty good mood until one of the bikers calls out, “Hey, Bee Sting, need another three beers!”
Aw, Bikers…yes, the money is insanely good at my step uncle’s roadhouse. But there are a lot of things I will not miss about working here—including the many colorful nicknames I get called for daring to be born with small breasts.
And sure enough, the guy under tips after I bring him his round of Michelobs. I swear to God, if I had a bigger rack like Red did, I probably would've met my goal and gotten out of here last year.
But then Uncle Nestor comes behind the bar with some good news. “I need you to push some crates into the meeting room. The Reapers are having an emergency meeting.”
Yes! The Reapers split and moved their club out of Tennessee a few years ago. But they still use the roadhouse as a meet-up place for both chapters once or twice a quarter.
Unlike some of these other assholes, they don’t care how small my tits are. They always leave good tips. And now there’s a whole back room of them needing food and beer.