Page 14 of Reaper

“Could’ve fooled me,” he shot back, a grin tugging at his mouth.

She rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed.“Don’t you have things to do? Club business and all that?”

He did. A list of errands and tasks for the MC was burning a hole in the back of his mind. But for once, he didn’t care. The world outside this apartment could wait.

“Figured they could take a back seat today,” he said, his voice low, firm. “I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

Her eyes widened slightly, the teasing glint replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. She ducked her head, a strand of hair falling loose from her bun. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her blanket.

“You keep hanging around, you’re gonna catch my cold,” she pointed out.

Reaper chuckled.“I’ll risk it,” he told her.

She peeked up at him through her lashes, her smile gentle, almost shy.“Your funeral.”

“Been through worse,” he said with a shrug.

A quiet settled over the room, not awkward, but thick with things unsaid. Reaper’s gaze traced the line of Savannah’s jaw, the delicate curve of her neck.

He’d never met anyone like her—soft and sharp all at once, a tangle of contradictions he was desperate to unravel. And even though she tried to hide it behind sarcasm and sass, there was a shadow in her eyes, a weight she carried. He wanted to know what it was. Wanted to help carry it. But he knew better than to push.

She took another sip of her soup, then set the bowl on the coffee table. The blanket slipped slightly off her shoulder, revealing the thin strap of her tank top underneath. Reaper’s eyes caught on the curve of her collarbone and breast before he forced himself to look away.

“So,” she murmured, voice quiet.“I guess I owe you a little honesty.”

His chest tightened. He stayed silent, giving her the space she needed.

“I’ve been … on the run,” she said, her fingers worrying the edge of the blanket. “For a while now.”

The words were simple, but the weight behind them was crushing. Reaper felt his jaw clench. Who the hell was she running from? He kept his expression neutral, though, his eyes steady on her face.

She lifted her gaze, her eyes guarded.“Don’t ask why. Not yet.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded. If she wasn’t ready to give him the whole truth, he’d take what she could give. For now.

“All right,” he said, his voice low and even.“I won’t ask.”

She exhaled, relief flickering across her features.“Thanks.”

Silence stretched between them again, but it wasn’t as tense this time. It was like the weight of her confession had loosened something, even if just a little. Reaper leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He stared down at his hands, the knuckles scarred, the veins prominent.

“You’re not the only one with ghosts,” he said, the words tasting unfamiliar on his tongue.

He didn’t talk about this. Not with anyone. But for some reason, it felt right to tell her.

She tilted her head, curiosity lighting her eyes.“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, the memories settling like stones in his chest.“Her name was Pat. My wife.”

Savannah’s eyes widened, and she straightened up a little.“You were married?”

He nodded. “A long time ago. She was … everything. Tough, smart, didn’t take any shit from me.” He paused, continued, “She got sick. We fought it together, but some fights aren’t meant to be won.”

Savannah’s eyes softened, her brows pulling together.“I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged, but the weight of grief was there, just beneath the surface.

“She told me to keep going. To open myself up to more.” He huffed a humorless laugh. “Didn’t think I’d ever listen.”

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