Page 64 of Thunder's Reckoning
“You left quick,” I said. Quiet. Careful.
She didn’t answer, but I caught the flicker in her eyes. I already knew why.
“You think if you weren’t there, I would’ve wanted her,” I said. Not a question. Just truth hangin’ between us.
Her chin dipped, almost a nod, almost not. “I don’t know what to think.”
I let out a sharp breath through my nose. “Yeah, I saw what you saw. A woman touchin’ me like she had every right to just like that night in my office. But that don’t mean I welcomed it. You understand?”
She swallowed, her voice thin. “How am I supposed to know the difference? All I’ve ever seen is men taking. Gabrial used to make women dance for him, and he’d look at me, wanting me to feel jealous. He wanted me to believe that was normal. That women were just there to feed whatever a man needed. Lust or worship. Didn’t matter.”
Her words cut deep, but I didn’t look away. “Then let me show you different.”
“You must think I’m so strange,” she murmured, lowering her head like shame was draggin’ her down.
“No, I don’t. Gabrial kept you in a twisted bubble, shapin’ what the world was supposed to look like, what men expect.”
I stepped closer, slow, hands still loose at my sides. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Sable. I’ve had women. Plenty. Some I didn’t even bother rememberin’ their names. That was my life—easy, empty, forgettable. But the second I saw you on that road—scared, beautiful, brave—I knew I was done with that shit. You ain’t forgettable. You’re the thing that stuck.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, searching, afraid to believe.
“Just give us time,” I said, softer now. “I’m askin’ you to give me the chance to prove I’m not the man you’ve only ever known. You don’t gotta hand me your faith and your heart until you’reready. Just… don’t shut me out when you’re confused. Talk to me instead.”
She stayed quiet. Her hand slid from the doorframe, fingers brushing mine before she stepped back, leavin’ space.
That was all the answer I needed.
I crossed the threshold, slow, careful. Close enough to feel her breath hitch.
“Once you’ve been around the clubhouse longer,” I said, lookin’ her in the eyes, “you’ll see how it works. And once those sweet butts and hang-arounds realize you’re mine? They’ll back off. Real quick.”
Her lips parted, like she wanted to argue, but no words came. Just the smallest nod, her chest risin’ too fast, her pulse jumpin’ at her throat.
The silence stretched, hot and charged. My hand twitched, wantin’ to cup her cheek, to finish what we’d started under that oak tree. But I held steady.
She spoke first, her voice fragile but edged enough to cut. “I don’t know how to believe yet. It’s me, not you.”
I nodded once, slow. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Take your time.”
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Her eyes glistened, my heart hammered, and everything in the room felt balanced on a knife’s edge, one wrong move and it would all collapse.
But she didn’t close the door.
“You want to come in?”
My throat worked once, hard. “Yeah,” I said softly, final. “Yeah, I do.”
I stepped inside, closin’ the door behind me with a quiet click. She didn’t move far, just enough to let me in, just enough space for me to feel the pull of her all over again.
For a beat, we just stood there. The room felt smaller with her in it, like the walls knew they were holdin’ somethin’ fragile.She kept her arms wrapped tight across her middle, but her eyes never left mine.
I wanted to touch her. Christ, I wanted to. But I kept my hands loose at my sides, waitin’.
Her breath caught, barely audible. Then she stepped closer. Just a half-step, but it was enough. Her shoulder brushed my chest, light as a whisper.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, her voice raw.
“You don’t gotta know,” I said, softer than I meant to. “You just gotta be here.”
