Page 9 of Eight Years Later

Maybe I should have.

But instead of fighting for her, I decided to fight the feelings instead.

I numbed the ache with alcohol and hard work until I couldn’t feel it anymore.

And yet, seeing her standing in front of me felt like I was right back there, standing in that doorway, trying to figure out where the fuck I had gone wrong and whether everything I’d felt between us had just been a lie.

“What the hell are you—” I caught a glimpse of the color of her hands as she tucked them around her body. “Is that blood?” I demanded.

I reached out and grabbed Kat’s arm, pulling her toward me. I swept my hands through her disheveled hair, pushing it back from her face and scanning it for injuries. She was just like I remembered, maybe a little older, but still beautiful as hell, even with the more pronounced smile lines pinching at the corner of her eyes.

“Yeah. It’s a long story,” Kat murmured when our eyes finally met for the first time in eight years. I tightened my hold on her just a little when I saw the fear in her eyes. Kat was one of the strongest women I knew. Fear was not an emotion I saw commonly, and it instantly made me want to drive my fist through the face of whoever had put it there. “I didn’t know where else to go. Everything in me told me to drive to you.”

Because I would never not look after her.

Even after everything that had happened.

And the angry fire that had been burning a minute ago was now ready to destroy whoever the hell had caused her fear, which was a sure sign that, even after all this time, the feelings I’d had for her were still very much alive and kicking.

“Come on,” I urged, pressing my hand to her back. “Let’s go inside, and you can tell us what the hell is going on.”

She pushed back against me and looked back over her shoulder to the car. “Can I get Dylan into bed so he can rest first?”

The car door creaked open.

I was sure I would see a four-year-old climb out, but as the kid unfolded his body from the front seat and stood, I realized he was just a few inches shorter than me.

“Geez, kid,” Kit said with a laugh, trying to keep things light. “I don’t wanna sound like an old guy, but you were like knee-high when I saw you last.”

Dylan forced a smile, his eyes shifting to where my hand was pressed to Kat’s back before he met my gaze and narrowed.

“Dylan,” Kat warned. “It’s okay. You can relax now.”

“Come on,” I urged, nodding toward the clubhouse. “We’ll get you set up in a room, then we can chat before you guys get some sleep.”

They were both exhausted, Dylan practically passing out the second we got them into one of the spare rooms. I waited in thedoorway, unable to take my eyes off her while she sat with him, stroking his head and whispering quietly as he drifted off.

It was like I was scared to look away.

That if I did, she’d be gone again.

There was going to come a time when we would have to talk about that. When I would ask my questions and let her know how the choice she made affected me. How it had left this dull ache in my chest that, for a long time, drove me fucking crazy.

This was not that time, though.

Right now, I simply needed to make sure she was okay and, if she wasn’t, find a way to fix it.

Because no matter how badly it hurt when she left, it still didn’t compare to how much I still damn well cared.

“Okay,” she whispered, finally meeting me at the door.

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” I told her, when I noticed the way her eyes were drooping. It was getting close to three in the morning. “You can rest. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

She shook her head, then lifted her chin like a real fucking soldier. “I’d just rather get it off my chest and hear what you and Kit have to say.”

“Fair enough, let’s do it.” I once again lay my hand on the small of her back. Maybe it was me trying to let her know I had her back. Or maybe it was a reminder to me that she was actually here. In the flesh. Maybe even a little of both. I wasn’t entirely sure. I simply knew I couldn’t help it.

We joined Kit at one of the tables in the main room.

---