Page 90 of Full Throttle

“I’d gotten out of the Bratva weeks before that,” he continued, his eyes dropping back to the letter. I could breathe again, and yet, I still held my breath. “All I wanted to do was find you, to see you—to fucking apologize to you.”

It was too much. Maybe I wasn’t as ready as I thought. Maybe I was crazy for coming here when I knew damn well I shouldn’t have. “Don’t.”

His head snapped up, and the fury was back tenfold. “You wanted answers. You’re going to fucking get them,” he bit off.

I shook my head. “This was a mistake.”

“Which part?” he clipped, his head ticking to the side again. “You getting my letter and ignoring it? You coming to Oasis when you knew I was here? Or was loving me the mistake, clover? Which is it?” I stared at him, eyes wide as he muttered, “Living in my own version of hell, being around you day in and day out. You could’ve stayed in fucking Denver, Nik!”

“What I do with my fucking life is none of your concern,” I shot back, my voice raising.

“Everything you fucking do is my concern!” he roared, pushing away from the counter again to get close to me.

“I went to New York, Cain!”

He halted.

“My dad was the one who got your letter, and he sent it to me! Years—years, Cain! I spent years of my fucking life looking for you!” I screamed at him, my voice cracking. “You don’t kiss a woman like that and then expect her to stay away. You don’t tell me, the one who knows the dark parts of your childhood, to stay way when there’s fear in your damn eyes, Cain. You don’t do that to me!”

His chest was heaving now, his eyes on me, nostrils flared.

“But you did. You did that to me, and I—” I looked away from him, trying to swallow in the glass in my throat. I couldn’t look at him. Not like this. Not when my heart was being laid out on the table for him to see, cracks and all. “I couldn’t give up on you. I couldn’t—for the life of me—stop fucking loving you! That next day, I dove into learning everything I could about street racing, worked my shitty little part-time job, saving every paycheck to get that shitty Honda ready. I went back months later, won a race, and I was ready to prove to you that I belonged there with you—beside you.”

“Stop,” he ordered.

My eyes shot back to him.

I wasn’t going to stop. There was no stopping this. It was too late. “Imagine my fucking surprise when people told me they hadn’t seen you in months. Months, Cain.”

“Nik—”

“Don’t you fucking call me that again unless you mean it,” I seethed, agony ripping through my body like a blade.

His mouth shut, his jaw tight and sharp like a damn razor.

“I searched for you,” I cried out, tears finally making their debut. “I bounced from city to city, looking for you at street races, car shows…hell, I even checked police reports. I couldn’t find you, but I never gave up hope. I kept racing and learning, doing everything I could to get better. Then, somewhere along the way, that hope started to turn into pain, into fear. I felt like so foolish, chasing a man who clearly didn’t want to be found.” I looked away from him again, down to my feet as I prepared to tell him about the night my life changed.

“When I got your letter, I cried for an hour. I’d never felt so relieved. I was just thankful you were alive, Cain,” I whispered, my voice thick as I looked back up to him. A single fell from my eye as I continued, “I ran to New York.” A soft laugh came from me. “Hell, I couldn’t get there fast enough. I came to the bar and stood outside in the snow, staring inside for a long time, clutching that letter in my hand. Then, I went inside, and you weren’t there, but the bartender told me you were out back.”

Realization flashed in his eyes.

My voice was softer than before, filled with a never-ending pain. “I found you, Cain. I came to you. Heart in my hands, I came to you, and where did I find you? In that alley against a wall, head tilted to the sky, eyes closed, with some woman on her knees in front of you.” My soul whimpered at the memory.

He shook his head, his throat working. “You—you found me—”

“In an alley with your cock down some woman’s throat as I held the letter you wrote me in my hand,” I finished for him.

I moved then, needing space. I walked to the back door, staring out the windows into the night, my back to him. “After that, I left and did everything I could to move on from it—from you,” I told him as I wiped away the tears.

“Nik, look at me,” he ordered, his voice closer to me now.

I didn’t. I kept my eyes focused on the darkness.

His arm came around me, his fingers gripping my chin before he twisted my head, forcing me to look up at him. It was then I felt his body heat, and my cracked heart skipped a beat. “I said look at me,” he murmured.

I kept my eyes on his, my body still.

“What you saw—that wasn’t—Nik, she wasn’t doing what you thought she was,” he explained softly.

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