Page 5 of Royally Twisted

She laughed. “I have a feeling you really can be an asshole.”

The cooler air slapped at them when they walked outside, making her suck in the fresh scent. Silence greeted her words, which gave her a chance to look around the area. A few bikes were parked along the road outside of shops. She didn’t recognize any, but fear skated up her spine.

Tymber watched herlook around the neighborhood, not missing the shiver that shook her petite frame. Something had the gorgeous woman scared. Something that also had her running to a suicide help meeting. He vowed he’d find out more. There was a mystique to Ivy that called to him on a visceral level. A connection he’d never felt for any other woman, and he’d met a lot of women, but none brought out such a protective side to him that he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and protect her from the world. His sisters would laugh their asses off if they saw him right now. Being the baby with four older females in the family, he’d been brought up to respect the fairer sex. They’d taught him a lot of things. One of his greatest lessons was their body language, and Ivy’s was screaming self-defense. Whoever had hurt her, had her running, would have to go through him to get to her.

He saw her glance toward the row of bikes, then saw her shiver again. Shit, was she scared to ride? He and his buddies liked their rides. Although they weren’t affiliated with any of the MCs that were all over California, he was friendly with the club that ran a lot of businesses in Santa Clarita. The president and a few others were clients of his. He took another look at Ivy’s appearance, thinking of the women who’d come into the shop with King and Duke and the others. Those women appeared in a lot less clothing than Ivy, but that didn’t mean Ivy wasn’t an old lady of a biker, or a wannabe. Hell, he fucking hoped she wasn’t either of those, because he sure as shit didn’t want to get into it with the Royal Sons.

They walked back toward the center, her eyes darting around them as if she waited for someone to jump out at them. Tymber couldn’t stand it. By the time they rounded the corner, his nerves were frayed, or maybe that was his control. Either way, he came to a stop, pulling Ivy with him. “What the fuck has you so damn scared? What sent you to a suicide meeting only to chicken out, Ivy?” he asked, his voice more of a growl than he wanted.

Her bright green eyes widened. She darted a look around, her tongue coming out to moisten her lips. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t going to a...a suicide meeting. I was lost.” She looked down when she said the last.

Tymber gave her a little shake. “Dammit, don’t lie. This is fucking serious.”

She jerked as if he’d hit her. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know what is and what isn’t serious? Let me tell you what’s serious, Tymber.” She poked him in the chest. “Walking into your apartment to find your best friend arguing with their boyfriend. Seeing the desolation on his face, the utter defeat stamped on every feature, and then watch as he locked himself in the bathroom. Imagine hearing him crying, telling you he loves you but that he can’t do it anymore. Have you ever heard the sound of a gun cocking, the way it echoes in a small space? I have. It’s a sound I hear night after night, along with the last words he said before a single shot rang out,” she sobbed.

He pulled her into his chest, holding her shaking body against his, absorbing her words. What the fuck? Her best friend was a dude who’d killed himself over a breakup or some shit. “I’m sorry, Ivy. So damn sorry.” Shit, nobody deserved to witness something like that.

Her tears soaked his shirt while she cried. Tymber kept one hand on the back of her head, the other he ran up and down her back, murmuring words he couldn’t recall if asked. How long they stood on the street like that he had no clue. Finally, she sniffled, the sound almost cute. “I got your shirt all wet,” she mumbled.

He almost made a sexual reference but stopped himself. “That’s alright, it washes.”

“That was hard, wasn’t it?” she questioned, leaning back slightly to meet his eyes.

Tymber raised a brow. “What was?”

Ivy wiped the tears away. Her chest rose and fell with her deep inhale. “I could see the wheels turning in your mind. You normally would’ve made a sexual quip right then but didn’t want to be an asshole.”

He chuckled at her astuteness. “Do I get points for not saying anything?”

She tried to step back, but his hold prevented her from moving too far. “You get points for a lot, one being the restraint you showed then.”

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said, his heart aching for her loss.

“He was my best friend since kindergarten when he beat up a boy for pulling my pigtails.” She smiled at the memory.

If he’d been in class with Ivy back then, he’d have done the same. “That’s the mark of a good best friend for sure.”

“Luke claims I became his best friend when I punched Sally, after she dumped him in junior high because he found out she only wanted to get closer to his brothers.”

An image of a younger version of Ivy beating another girl made him smile. “I’d have paid to see that.” And he would. The thought of this sassy woman knocking the shit out of another would be hot as hell in his mind.

“I fell in love with him that same year when he beat my stepdad up after he tried to...well, anyway, that was when we became a couple.” Her voice cracked.

His mind came to a halt. He wasn’t following, or he was missing vital parts to the story. “Ivy, I’m not on the same page. Who are we discussing?”

Her green eyes were shiny with her tears. “Luke. My best friend. My first love. He’s...or rather he was gay. We figured it out in high school, but I still loved him, and he still loved me. Our relationship wasn’t like, that. I protected him, and he protected me. Only I didn’t protect him in the end. I should’ve known. I should’ve been there. If only I’d have—” she sobbed.

Tymber gripped the back of her hair, tipping her face up to his so she had to see him when he spoke. “Ivy, I don’t know who Luke was. I don’t know why he did what he did. What I do know is this. He pulled that trigger, not you. You have survivors’ guilt, which is very common I’m told. People say that when someone commits suicide life goes on. What they don’t understand is that life is forever changed for those left behind. Many times, suicide is a permanent solution for a temporary problem. I’m not saying that was your friend’s issue. Hell, I know nothing of your life or his, but what I do know is that it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t the boyfriend’s fault either.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

Staring up at Tymber, she soaked in his words, wishing they were true, wishing Luke’s family agreed. God, she wished she believed them to be true. What she knew for a fact, and without a shadow of a doubt, was her life was forever changed and not for the better. Luke had been more than just her friend, they were family. His family had been her family. They’d allowed her to be a part of them only because of him. Now that he was dead, they blamed her. They thought Darian was her boyfriend and that Luke had offed himself because he couldn’t stand life without her in it. God, it was so fucked up. “I really wish I could believe that was true. I wish everyone else thought the same way, too.”

The feel of his hand gripping her hair, sent a tingle of awareness through her body, reminding her she was still alive, that she still had needs. It had been too damn long since she’d thought of herself as a sexual being. Hell, with her playing the part of Luke’s beard, she couldn’t just go out and find a guy to scratch the itch. Truth be told, she’d not actually had a boyfriend other than Luke, and well, that hadn’t worked out. “I should go,” she whispered, but didn’t step away.

His grip didn’t ease. “Can I get your number?” he asked.

His words were an invitation. She knew it, and he did too. She licked her lips. For one moment in time, she wanted to forget, wanted to escape reality and pretend all was right in her world. Tymber Black looked like the type of man who could help her do just that. “Where are you going?” she asked him instead.

---