Page 38 of Broken

“They were, it’s just …”

“Just what, Sunshine?” he asks, and I know he can hear me about to cry. He walks over to me and pulls me into his arms. I should resist, but I just don’t have it in me. I rest my head against his chest, my arms bunched up against his firm body. I try to hold myself stiff, but as his heat runs through me, I find it’s impossible. I end up wrapping my arms around him and holding onto him.

“I don’t want to be a charity case. My whole life, I was trained to just ask for what I wanted. I can’t allow myself to be that person again. I want to stay on the path that I’m on. I finally like myself and I can’t remember having that feeling before.”

He pulls back to stare down at me. “You gave me a gift tonight, sweetheart. Do you remember?”

“Yes, and it’s still scaring the shit out of me,” I mumble against his shirt.

“Woah, I’ll just take this set into the bedroom and hook it up for you,” Pez says, coming back inside.

I instantly tense, pulling away from King, and swiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. I don’t want anyone to see me cry. It’s embarrassing enough when it’s just King.

“I’m going to go make sure the kitchen is clean,” I whisper, not looking at anyone.

“Pez, head on back. I’ll hook the TVs up. I think Gabby is on overload. Pregnancy hormones,” King says, and I’m such an idiot, I don’t even yell at him for saying that. Heck, for all I know, it could be my hormones—at least in part.

“Yeah, my sister was like that. You sure you want me to take the truck?”

“Crusher will need it back. I’ll get Gabby to drop me off in the morning and I can drive my bike back.”

“Sounds good. Damn good to know you’re coming aboard man,” Pez says.

After a few minutes, I hear the door open and close. I just keep staring out the kitchen window. I think I’m afraid to move. Right now, I’m starting to feel like I’m afraid to breathe.

“He’s gone,” King says from somewhere behind me.

“I heard.”

“We need to talk, Gabby.”

“I think we’ve done a lot of talking today,” I counter. “There’s only so much I can handle. You should know I’m not strong like other women.”

“Bullshit. You know better than that,” he growls.

I force myself to face him and look into his beautiful inky black eyes. God, he really is beautiful. It is in a rough-as-hell biker kind of way, but it is there. It calls to me and because of who I am and what I’ve done, I shouldn’t let it—like at all. “I don’t think I do,” I answer, feeling as pitiful as I feel.

“Gabby, if what we talked about earlier …”

He stops talking, and the strangest thing happens. I can see it written all over him. I can see it, even though he’s standing ten feet away from me, afraid to get closer. There’s emotion slipping from him, and it seems to wrap around me. To most, that might sound stupid. It might even sound like I’m deluding myself. The thing is, IknowKing. I’ve seen how tightly wound he is to the outside world, and I’ve seen the pain he exuded when he let his shields down when telling me about Shelby. I’ve seen the gentle side of him when my brother died and the anger that boiled over at my rape. Seriously, the ferocity of his raw anger permeated every corner of the room and yet, he still handled me gently and with care. Not once—even after what happened to me—was I scared of King. I was afraid of my own damn shadow. If someone spoke just a little mean or loudly around me, I would fight the urge to scream and cower in the corner. Never with King.Never. So, I’ve always been attuned to the nuances of his personality, because he is my safe place. Right now, I see what we were talking about weighs heavily on him. It meant something.It means something.So, I take a breath and force myself above the muck I carry inside. The muck that I swear sometimes is going to drown me. Then I force myself to breathe.

“King—”

“Sunshine, if me laying out how I feel and what I want for you—forus—is going to send you into a panic, maybe it’s better we just forget it all.”

My heart stutters in my chest. “Forget it all?” I repeat. I’m aware I sound like a little lost puppy right now, but I can’t hide the emptiness those words bring to me—or how they are trying to claw into my soul.

“No, baby, not like that,” King rushes to assure me. He takes a few steps closer, but I can tell he’s afraid to get too close. “I promised you I’m going to be a part of your life and this baby’s regardless. You aren’t ready for a man. I shouldn’t have put that on you. I can get my shit together and just be the friend that you need. I don’t want you retreating because I tried to push for something you’re not equipped to deal with yet.”

“What are you saying, exactly?” I ask, wondering if he can hear the way my voice trembles, while praying he can’t.

“I want you to forget I ever said anything about what I was feeling. This isn’t about me. This is your life. If just the thought of exploring things between us leaves you in a panic, I need to accept that. I can be your friend and help and nothing else. You don’t need to worry.”

His words should reassure me. I should feel relief. Instead, there’s nothing but …Shit. I don’t even know what I’m feeling. Disappointment. Sadness. Fear. They’re all swirling around me, but the bigger feeling is the one where I feel not good enough. I’m so sick of that feeling.

So fucking sick of it.

“It’s me,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.

---