Liona
They stayed up for a little while longer after they finished eating, and Cutter introduced her to the rest of the guys who lived at the clubhouse. He'd been right, they were rough around the edges. Coarse was a good word to describe them. But, even if they said some things that were inappropriate in polite company, or spoke in voices that were a little louder in volume than normally acceptable, she felt safe with them. They were straight forward. Honest.
Around Wyland, and even his friends and family, she'd always felt as if she had to be on guard. Something always lurked behind his eyes, something fundamentally dishonest and mercurial. What she thought was the right thing to do one day, may not be the right thing tomorrow, or the next day. With the Vanguard, she knew there was just one right thing to do: respect them and the club. Seemed simple enough, Liona figured.
A little before midnight, most of the guys that had to work the next morning began to turn in for the evening. They all had to be up early, she realized. Most of the time, she'd just gone to bed when Wyland had. She hadn't wanted to wake him up in the middle of the night, especially not if he had work in the morning.
Cutter walked her back to his room. Rather, her room, for the time being He shut the door behind them and leaned back against it. “What'd you think of the guys?” he asked.
She smiled. “They're nice,” she said with sincerity. “Smalls's sweet.”
He smiled, seemingly happy that they hadn't been too much for her. “Yeah, they're all good guys.”
“You turning in for the night, too?”
“Probably should,” he admitted.
There was a pause, and Liona's nervous heart began to beat a little faster.
“Yeah, I need to,” he said, shaking his head. “Smalls's gonna open for me tomorrow morning, but I'll still have to be up early. Got a breakfast date with our lawyer.”
That hadn't been exactly what Liona had wanted to hear. No, she'd wanted him to come over and take her into those caring work-strong arms of his. She wanted to feel his full lips crushing hers. Clearly, though, that wasn't going to happen. She quirked up the corners of her mouth.
“If you need anything,” he said as he touched the door handle beside him, “I'll be out on one of the couches. Alright?”
She did need something: to feel a kind touch, a reassuring warmth, a loving hand for once in her life. She simply nodded at him. “Yeah. I'll let you know.”
“Cool,” he said before turning to let himself out. He stopped before he left. “Night, Liona.”
“Night, Cutter,” she said, his name making her smile a little as it left her lips.
He smiled back and shook his head, before closing the door and heading off down the hallway, back to the rec room. Liona sighed again. She should have said something. Done something. What was that quote? “If you don't make a choice, life will choose for you?” Something like that, she thought. But, whatever the quote had been, her choice in that moment had been made for her, whether she liked the decision, or not.
# # #
Cutter
Cutter bedded down in the rec room, just like he'd decided a while ago. Heading off to bed early didn't help him with getting any sleep, though. Liona's face, smile, laughter, and the sound of her voice filled his mind as he tossed and turned on the overstuffed piece of furniture. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was her naked, beautiful body. It didn't matter that she'd been hurt. She was still Liona Copeland. He lay there, his head propped up on the scratchy pillow, eyes wide open and staring off into the darkness. Silence covered the clubhouse like a heavy down comforter, wrapped him in its embrace. The only thing it couldn't silence, though, were his thoughts.
Once, he imagined he'd gotten over her. Had finally forgotten how her touch felt. Had finally put her infectious grin behind him. Apparently, he hadn't. He sighed and rolled back over to face the back of the couch, pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders. The urge to just walk back into his room, to crawl into bed with her and pull her into his arms, was almost too much to control. Somehow, he managed to control himself, but in the end, it was only for her sake. He'd loved Liona once. Loved her like the air he breathed, or the roads his bike took him down. He'd spent years pulling that love out of his heart, ripping it out by the roots and throwing it as far away as he could. She'd been with Wyland, and forever out of his reach.
...Now she was within his reach but if he tried something and got shot down like he had before, he wouldn't know how to handle it. Could he take that kind of rejection again? Or, would it wreck him just like it had all those years ago?
He sighed and rolled back over, put his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. No, he couldn't risk the hurt. No matter how much he needed to. A heart was a fragile thing, like a soufflé or a bike's gearbox. You toyed with one at your peril. Cutter, though, was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the soft footsteps as they padded down the hall and into the rec room. Even in the thundering silence, he was too focused on himself, only his own memories and mental arguments. He was so absorbed in his own echo chamber that he barely reacted when the soft, slender hand slipped over his mouth, and the perfectly shaped lips next to his ear whispered a quiet shush.
“Come with me,” Liona said, her soft, sweet breath tickling the inside of his ear. “I want to show you something.”