He was unable to get rid of that burn by swallowing and choked on it, instead.

He burst out of the door and down her porch with his eyes glued to his bike.

His means of escape.

After straddling it, he didn’t look up because he was afraid she’d be standing in the doorway.

If he saw her there, he might go back inside.

And he shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

He didn’t belong at this house.

He didn’t belong with her.

This couldn’t happen again.

He needed to go. Get the fuck out of there because he wouldn’t put it past Aaliyah to chase him down.

To make him face whatever he was feeling.

He needed to leave before she stopped him.

Only, he had one thing to do first.

Slipping his cell phone from his pocket, he pulled up his message app, and added one more text to the long string.

I made a mistake. I’m sorry.

ChapterEighteen

The house had been eerilyquiet after Nox rushed out like that pesky ghost had been chasing him. So quiet that she considered heading into the office on Saturday to be around people who valued her. People other than her family, that was.

Instead, she stayed home and took advantage of her empty house by blasting some classic rock while cooking and baking. All without any interruptions or having to smack grabby, grubby fingers when they tried to steal food.

She even managed to meal prep lunches and dinners for the week ahead. For both the boys and herself.

She kept herself so busy in the kitchen, she no longer had room in the fridge and freezer to store anything more.

For now.

The second the bottomless pits walked through the door, they would head directly to the kitchen, then sniff out and eat half of what was supposed to last all week. Her own stomach hurt simply remembering Devyn inhaling a large meat-lovers pizza all by himself a few weeks ago.

Like it had been a damn snack.

Her hips and ass would be twice their size if she ate like that. That was, if she didn’t throw up first.

Of course, she hadn’t heard from the elusive Nox since he’d sprinted out her door. But then, she didn’t reach out to him, either. She figured she’d give him time to process what occurred. And to forgive himself for whatever sin he thought he committed. Most likely the sin of cheating on a memory.

The quiet weekend quickly came to an end when she heard the roar of Harley straight pipes pulling in her driveway.

She frowned. It was hours earlier than they were expected. Even though she didn’t get a call or text first, something had to be wrong.

She rushed to the front door and flung it open to see two bad-ass Harleys instead of one. She groaned at who was straddling that second bike.

Romeo.

The Dark Knights’ president.