Page 29 of Surrender
I shook my head again, fighting to continue my tirade. “You left… You don’t… I didn’t…” My breathing was getting heavier, and I could feel the panic creeping up, coiling around my chest.
“Yeah, I fucking did,” he finally agreed, his eyes holding mine as he inched forward, his hands reaching for my waist. “I forced you to make that decision, and you should be fucking angry at me for it.”
Each breath became more ragged than the last, and I blinked furiously, trying to stave off the suffocating feeling.
I hated this.
I hated the way my body betrayed me when I got emotional.
It’d been doing it my entire life, and unfortunately for me, Nate was the one who taught me how to get through it. Every damn emotional rollercoaster I got on meant having to hear his voice in my head if I had any chance of escaping it.
Listening to him say,“Find me in the room.”
It was like fucking torture, but also comforting.
And soothing.
And everything my body needed to find itself again.
Because I could see him there.
He was always there.
“Focus on me,” he growled. “That’s it.”
I didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to let him think he could still fix me after all this time, but his voice felt so much like home. That recognizable grit in his tone was slowly pulling me back from the edge like no one else had ever been able to.
I bumped into the counter behind me, and Nate continued to press forward, his hands pinning me there. To steady myself, I grabbed his arms, gripping them tightly as I stared into his eyes, unable to look away.
I knew those eyes.
I knew those hands, those arms, and how they felt wrapped around me.
“Good,” Nate whispered, his voice softer, though still firm and steady. “Now breathe.”
This time he was so close that when I inhaled, I felt like I was breathing him in—and God, did he smell good. It was like warm leather and a trace of cologne, just enough to have me fighting the urge to lean in. Instead, I distracted myself with other things like the patches that sat directly in my eyeline.
The Exiled Eight MC.
Sergeant at Arms.
One Percent.
They were well-worn, much like the discolored but obviously loved leather vest he had on.
They were all new additions but not surprising ones.
Nate had this unrivaled, rebellious nature that either drew people to him—mostly girls—or made people scared of him—always guys.A lot of people assumed it was an act, but if they knew what I knew about the shit he was dealing with at home, they’d understand why he was so standoffish and unapproachable.
Well, why he was that way with everyone else.
“You left me,” I whispered, but at that point, a lot of the fight in me was gone.
“I know.” He reached up and tucked a couple of strands of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering along my jawline. My eyes fluttered closed, allowing me to sink into his touch. It was so goddamn familiar. “I—”
BING. BING. BING. BING.
The alarm on my phone rang loudly, stunning both of us back into the real world. Nate stepped back just enough for me to duck out of the small space I was in and snatch the offending object off the windowsill.
