Wow. No, seriously wow. What the hell was that? What the hell just happened? I can’t help but touch my lips, once Zander closes the door. I started calling him that because I thought it might irritate him, but now I like it. I like that I’m the only one who uses it, and I know I’m getting too drawn into him. I think about him way too much. I’m curious about him in ways I haven’t been with other men. He’s dangerous. I planned on retreating and ignoring him completely, but that kiss…

Before Michael, and sadly even at the beginning with Michael, I enjoyed kissing. I had. I loved the feel of our lips sliding against each other, the taste of another person’s tongue and the pleasure that could come from a good long, slow kiss. I loved all of that. Still, that one small, sweet kiss with Zander blew away any other kiss I ever had out of the water. I fight down the nausea at what this means. There’s no reason to panic. It wasn’t even a sexual kiss. Zander’s a man who has a different woman every time he wants one. This meant nothing to him. He’s probably just feeling sorry for me. He’s trying to make me move into the club, and we both know I’m not wanted there.

With that worked out in my brain, I feel slightly better. The last thing I need is to be pursued by a man. Especially a man like Zander. He’s too potent… too consuming… I look over at him as he climbs into the truck and take in his dark hair which is messy and going in different directions, either by the wind, his fingers, or a combination of the two. He has on faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt under his Savage MC cut. His beautiful skin hints at a Latin heritage, but has been bronzed by the sun into this utter perfection that makes any woman, myself included, curious to see more. He is dangerous, definitely dangerous. Have I reminded myself of that enough yet?

I turn away to look out the window, as Zander pulls out of the parking area. The cab of the truck is quiet, and I feel awkward, but I have no idea what to say.

“Do you need to go to your place and pack before we go to the club?”

“I’m not going to the club but if you could take me to the house, I would appreciate it.”

“Hellcat, we’ve been through this.”

“I know, that’s why we shouldn’t re-hash it again.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Zander shake his head, but he doesn’t say anything else.

We drive the rest of the way in silence, the sound of the radio in the background is the only noise. I feel bad, I should find something to say, because he’s been really good to me, and though I’ve dialed back my bitch meter towards him, I’m never going to be like the other girls. I don’t have that in me anymore. No one grieves that loss more than I do, but it’s true.

When the vehicle comes to a stop, I jump out, wincing at the pressure it puts on my leg. I ignore it and don’t give Zander time to react. I look through the open window at him.

“Thanks for the ride Zander, stay cool.” I walk off. Dismissed. I must keep him dismissed.

I’m at the front door and have it opened, before I realize he is standing behind me.

“What are you doing?”

“Hellcat, until we make sure everything is locked down and the danger is gone, you can’t stay by yourself. That leaves two routes this can take. You either come back to the club, or I can stay here. If you’re going to insist on being a stubborn ass, then I’m here.”

“No fucking way.”

“Not open for debate. Now, I’d rather be at the club, but baby you want to play it this way, I’m down.”

I shake my head; this is not going to happen. I cannot be anywhere near Zander.

I go inside, ignoring him. He follows, as I knew he would, but I want to change. I want my own damn deodorant, clean clothes not covered in blood, and my hair washed in my own shampoo. Once I have all that done, and I’m back to myself, I can deal with Zander. Right now, I feel…too raw.

I look over my shoulder, as he follows me.

“Take your damn boots off so you don’t track mud in the house.”

I catch him giving me a mock salute out of the corner of my eye as I leave him behind and go to my bedroom. Once I escape to the adjoining bathroom, I lock the door and relax my weight against it. I’ve held it together, but that’s come to an abrupt end. The shaking starts, and the tears slide down my cheeks. I go to the sink and turn the water on. Hoping the noise will drown out my tears.

I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up so bad. I want nothing more than to jump in the shower, let the water rinse me clean, and hide my weak-ass tears. I can’t do that though, because of my damn leg. So instead, I rip my shirt over my head and push my pants off, cursing Tiny, my stupidity, Michael, and the stupid ridiculous choices my fucked-up brain keeps making. I curse it all. I hobble to the shower, grabbing my shampoo and conditioner. I bend over the sink and wash my hair continuously, until all I can smell is the scent of strawberries. Even when the scent has permeated the air, I wash it one more time. Then I slowly sink to the floor, ignoring the way my hair drips down my back, and onto my skin.

I don’t know how long I’ve stayed like this. I guess it must have been awhile, because the next thing I know, Zander is wrapping a bathrobe around me and pulling me up. I should be worried that I’m naked. I should be worried that I appear weak and broken. Something about the way he wraps the robe around me and helps me up, feeding my hands and arms through the sleeves, while supporting my weight, tells me I’m safe. Maybe I’m just completely out of it. Could I be in shock? Surely, that’s the only thing that could explain why I would ever feel safe with a man.

“I was wondering when you were going to let it out, sweetheart.”

“I’m so stupid,” I whisper, like it’s a dirty secret. It might not be a secret, but I definitely feel dirty. I have held it in for so long, nothing will ever make me feel clean again.

“You’re just searching,” he says, applying pressure to my neck so I will hold my head down. Once I do that, he wraps a towel in my hair. Then, he picks me up and carries me out of the bathroom. I should argue, I should insist he put me down. I don’t. I lay my head against his shoulder and rest, as if I’m boneless. When he places me on the bed, I still don’t argue. The time to panic should be when he gets on the bed behind me. I don’t. He spoons me, gathering my body up close and pulling it back against him. His warmth reaches me, but I still feel so cold. This whole time, I’ve been crying. I feel like I could cry forever. He places a kiss on the top of my head and doesn’t say anything else. He just holds me, letting me cry. Eventually, I feel a shift on the bed, and then he’s reaching me some tissues, before settling back down behind me.

“You’re going to make yourself sick, Hellcat,” he rumbles, his head is somewhere over top of me. I’m burrowed against his chest, absorbing his heat.

“Nicole could die, and it’s all my fault,” I whisper my biggest fear.

“She’s not going to die,” he argues.

“You don’t know that,” I answer, wishing there was some way he could tell me for sure Nicole will be okay. I need to know with a hundred percent certainty that my best friend, the only person besides Ray I’ve ever cared about in my life, is going to be okay.

“You don’t know she’s not. Don’t borrow trouble, it comes knocking on its own too easily.”

I’m mad at him. Mad that he won’t tell me she’s okay. Mad that he won’t give me the words to make the fear inside of me go away. It’s not logical, but it’s the truth.

“You should leave,” I tell him. It’s childish considering everything he’s done, but if he can’t make Nicole better, then he’s just someone else to witness my guilt.

“Go to sleep Hellcat, tomorrow you can fight me. Tonight, let it go and let me take care of you.”

We lay like that in silence. Zander holding me close. I should put a stop to it, but there’s that feeling again… that sense of…safety. Sleep is coming for me, but I can’t shut my brain down entirely.

“I only wanted to save her…save her like I wish they had saved me…”