Page 11 of Eight Years Later

I’d scrubbed them to the point of pain.

They were practically sparkling, and yet, I swear I could still see the blood on them, even though I’d only seconds ago watched it swirl down the shower drain.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t had blood on my hands before.

Working as a nurse meant having a comfortable relationship with bodily fluids. Blood, urine, vomit—you had to be able to hold your shit together when covered with any of the three. This was different, though.

This person hadn’t been in a hospital bed.

They’d been in my living room.

Stabbed and possibly bleeding out on my sofa.

And I’d run away.

“Hey.” I looked up into the mirror. Tally was standing behind me in the doorway, his eyes meeting mine. Eyes that I hadn’t seen for eight damn years and yet still had the same effect on me. “I just checked on Dylan. He’s sleeping.”

Up until that point, I’d been in control.

On the five-hour drive here, Dylan had slept a little, but, for the most part, we’d talked about anything to keep our minds occupied. I didn’t want to think about the person I’d left dying on my sofa or the man who had chased after us, making it clear he didn’t want to let us simply get away.

I’d ignored it all.

Just to get here.

And we’d made it.

My entire body shook with the sob that left me as the weight of the night’s events hit me suddenly. Two arms enveloped me, wrapped me up tightly from behind and held me as I struggled to breathe through the tears. We sank to the floor together, his back to the wall and me curled into a ball in his arms. I held tight to his leather, buried my face in his neck and let the tears flow.

Not because I was still scared.

But because I finally felt safe again.

Even after eight years, that energy still surrounded him, and with his body wrapped around mine, I could feel it protecting me.He was protecting me.

Tally may have driven me absolutely crazy at times, but if there was one thing I knew for sure about him, it was that he looked after the people he loved. He fought for them. I’d seen it myself, not only with his brothers’ old ladies when threats weremade or kids at the club when they were in trouble, but with anyone he considered family.

Including me.

It was one of the reasons I fell so hard.

And also one of the reasons I walked away.

Because the idea of rejection and not being a part of that any more was too much to bear.

At least when I left, I could still imagine he felt that way.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, gently rocking back and forth like you would a small child. “I’ve got you.”

We stayed like that for a while, until my ass was numb from the cold tile floor, but I could finally inhale a long deep breath instead of the short, sharp ones my tears forced upon me. I still wasn’t ready to move, though. I’d forgotten how much I loved the smell of his leather and the way I felt dwarfed by his broad shoulders and muscular upper body.

I cleared my throat finally, loosening my grip on him a little. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting the complete and utter breakdown.”

His quiet laughter jostled me a little. “That makes two of us.”

“I used to be a lot stronger,” I admitted with a smile. “When there were fights at X-Rated, I always tried to step in, break it up while fists were flying. I’m not sure when I became a runner instead of a fighter.”

“I also remember having to pull you out of those fights because those fuckers were the size of semitrucks, and you were five-foot-ten on a good day… in heels,” he teased, pinching softly at my side. A smile grew on my face, and I let out a short laugh. “Maybe you’ve just gotten a little better at picking your battles.”

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