Page 20 of From the Ashes
“Good,” I grunt like a broken record, eating mine and looking at her.
What happened to her to go from hot to cold in the matter of seconds?
“Do you have family around?” she asks, and I’m taken aback by her question.Family. I used to. I lost it. Found another. It’s complicated.
“Yeah,” I nod, whipping my mouth with the back of my hand, “my brothers at the club. They’re my family.” The realization hitsme when I say the words out loud. I may not display affection to them, but that’s what they are. My family. I’d take a bullet for each of them and the people they care about.
“I see, not the people you were born with but…the one you chose.”
“Somethin’ like that.” I don’t like talking about my past, my parents, my sisters… It’s better off hidden under my rib cage.
“What about you?”
“Well, I have my son and my sister here. She has two girls, and her husband is really nice. I’m lucky to have them around. Other than that, not much. Lost my parents years ago. I’ve got an aunt in Missouri and a few cousins here and there, but I never see them. It’s mostly Noah and I and my sister’s family.” Warmth spreads on her face as she talks about the folks she cares about. “Do you, um, it’s a bit direct, but do you want children?” she asks me, sitting up straight in her chair, the tacos still in her hand.
Children? No. Never.
My DNA is cursed, and there’s no way I’m making another kid out from these messed-up genes. And either way, you can’t make a father out of a piece of concrete, and that’s what I am. Kids need emotions, and well, I don’t have that. Can’t risk messing someone else's life with my broken mind. I don’t know why she asked me that. Perhaps she’s looking for a partner to have more children.
“No,” I answer firmly.
“No? Like you don’t want kids or you never thought about it?” Her hand clenches her napkin tighter.
“I’m not having children,” I explain, “I don’t want to.”
She nods, her shoulders relaxing a bit, then goes back to eating.Did I say the wrong thing? Will she push me away now?Don’t all women want kids? From the movies I’ve seen, that’susually what happens at the end. But she’s still sitting in front of me and hasn’t told me to fuck off, so I guess it’s still okay. Right?
After finishing our meal, we walk back to the club. I’ve never dreaded something this much. I wish I could just stay near her, smell her honey scent, watch her smile and breathe and talk about whatever. We’re almost there, I see the signs of the club shining in the night, but I don’t want this to be over. Brushing the back of her hand, I let her decide if she wants to lace her fingers with mine.
Boom-boom.
Boom-boom.
Boom-boom.
Her index playfully brushes me shyly before she sighs and links her hand with mine as we walk to the parking lot, where my bike is. My heart is pumping in my ears so hard, I’m afraid I won’t hear her if she talks to me.
“Ready?” I ask and she nods in response, looking down at our hands. I stop myself from cupping her cheek, knowing that would probably be too much. I let her go reluctantly before giving her gear back. She puts it on right away over her clothes, and I barely have enough time to turn myself and offer her to change inside.
“All good,” she says with her sweet voice as I turn back to face her, the leather hugging her figure everywhere but on her chest, where my sweater makes it impossible for her to close the jacket completely.
“One more thing,” I say as I watch her lips part.
What was that for?
I put her helmet on and notice her blinking twice in a row.
Strange. Was she expecting me to do something else?
Despite driving slower, the ride back is still too fast, and we’re already on her lawn as I help her get down. She peelsher helmet and gear off, then fists the hem of the sweatshirt hesitantly.
“Keep it,” I tell her, hoping she will.
“You’re sure?” I nod, and I wish she could see how this simple gesture lit my chest on fire. “Thank you for tonight, I…I had a really great time,” she says, making me feel like the luckiest guy on earth.
“I had a great time too, Lana,” I tell her, wanting to touch her, kiss her, or do anything that would ease the pain of being away from her.
“So…” She fidgets. Does she want something? Should I say something? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I want to invite her out again, but what if that’s too much too soon? What if she sees right through me and says that I’m weird and?—
