Page 55 of Thunder's Reckoning
Now, standing in a warm, quiet room that smelled like clean laundry and old wood, I wrapped my arms tighter around myself and tried to remember where I was. Who I was.
Zeke had touched my hand and asked nothing in return.
He didn’t ask for my obedience. Didn’t ask for control. He didn’t tell me what to wear, where to stand, or how to smile.
He just stood there, offering something soft when I’d only ever known hard edges, and maybe that’s what scared me most of all, because softness can make you believe again, and belief gets you hurt.
But God help me... I was starting to believe anyway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE CLUBHOUSE WASquiet in the mornin’, the kindof still that settles after a storm, or right before one rips through. I dropped onto the couch with a grunt, half-full bottle hangin’ from my hand. Hadn’t even cracked it yet. Just holdin’ it like maybe the burn inside would think for me.
Gearhead was loungin’ against the pool table, boots up like he paid rent on the damn place. Chain had his throne in the armchair, knife flippin’ lazy between his fingers, eyes trackin’ the blade like it was spellin’ secrets only he could read.
“Somethin’ die in your bed last night, Thunder?” Gearhead drawled, not even botherin’ to look up.
“Yeah,” Chain added with a smirk, “your pride?”
I gave ’em both a long, flat stare. “Go fuck yourselves.”
Gearhead clutched his chest, mock wounded. “Touchy. Must’ve been real bad.”
“Or real good ‘til you screwed it up,” Chain shot back.
I let out a sharp breath through my nose. “Leena happened.”
That got their attention. Chain’s smirk sharpened, Gearhead actually set his boots down.
“She showed up in my office last night,” I went on, jaw tight. “Didn’t knock. Climbed straight into my lap. And right when I was about to throw her ass off…”
“Sable walked in.” Chain finished it for me, his grin all teeth.
“Yup.”
Gearhead whistled low. “Jesus, brother. You finally catch feelin’s for a girl who don’t know how this world works, and Leena slithers in like a damn snake.”
Chain chuckled. “Gotta say, if I ever pictured Thunder in a love triangle, I figured you’d come out shirtless, smug as hell, not sittin’ here starin’ at a bottle like a bad country song.”
“Funny,” I muttered, but I didn’t mean it.
Gearhead leaned forward, voice droppin’ down. “You’re really into her.”
Didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the label in my hand like it might give me words I didn’t wanna say. Finally, I exhaled. “She’s not just beautiful. She’s… different. Strong as hell. Been through shit that’d break most people, but she still carries it like it’s hers alone. I’d bleed for her, no question. And that ain’t me. Not ever.”
The room went quiet. Even Chain stopped spinnin’ his blade.
After a beat, he asked quiet, “She pushin’ you away?”
“Won’t talk to me. Not really. Tried explainin’ last night, she shut down. Doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust me. Thinks it was pity or lust, they pounded that stupid shit in her head.”
Gearhead shook his head. “That ain’t rejection. That’s fear. She’s scared if she believes you, it’ll hurt worse when you prove her wrong.”
Chain set his knife aside, surprising me with his serious tone. “She’ll come around. If she’s as strong as you say, she won’t stay locked up forever.”
“Feels like I’m holdin’ on to somethin’ that don’t wanna be held,” I muttered.
Gearhead snorted. “Never thought I’d see the day, Thunder, breaker of hearts, sittin’ here broke over one woman.”
