Page 38 of Fury
A smile tugs at his lips, nostalgic and tender. "Your eighteenth birthday. That ridiculous party your parents threw at the compound."
I remember it well, the first "adult" celebration my parents had allowed, with both clubs present and actual alcohol served openly instead of snuck behind the buildings.
"You wore that blue dress," Greyson continues, his eyes distant with the memory. "Hair up, some sparkly thing in it. You looked… different. Grown up. Not Mason's little sister anymore, but this beautiful woman who lit up the whole room."
"I didn't think you even noticed me that night," I admit. "You spent most of it talking to your dad and the other officers."
"I noticed," he says. "Trust me, I noticed. But you were eighteen, barely legal, and I was twenty-three with a patch on my back and responsibilities to the club. Your father would have murdered me if I'd so much as looked at you wrong."
"So, you stayed away."
He nods, a rueful smile crossing his face. "I tried. God knows I tried. But then you'd show up at club events, or I'd run into you at your parents' place, and it got harder and harder to pretend I wasn't counting the minutes until I saw you again."
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Before I left for LA, I mean."
"Because you needed to leave," he says simply. "You needed to find out who you were away from all this—the clubs, the town, the family legacy. I saw it in your eyes every time someone mentioned the future. That restlessness, that need to see what else was out there."
The accuracy of his assessment takes my breath away. "So, you just… waited? For two years?"
"I would have waited longer if that's what you needed." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "Some things are worth waiting for."
Before I can respond, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks it with a frown. "Doctor's running early. He'll be here in twenty minutes."
"I should probably put on something more presentable than your sweats," I say, reluctantly stepping away from his touch.
"I don't know," he muses, his eyes traveling over me in a way that makes my skin heat. "I kind of like seeing you in my clothes."
I roll my eyes but can't help the pleased flush that spreads across my cheeks. "I'm sure you do.
As I climb the stairs to change, I can't help but marvel at the strange, winding path that led me here—from the girl who couldn't wait to escape this town to the woman who's finding her place in it again, with a man who waited patiently for me to come home.
Not bad for a homecoming, indeed.
Chapter
Seven
Livie
The doorbell rings just as I'm pulling a brush through my tangled hair. I hear Greyson's heavy footsteps below, followed by the murmur of male voices. Taking a deep breath, I head downstairs to meet this doctor who's apparently seen enough MC injuries to make house calls.
"Livie," Greyson says as I enter the living room, "this is Dr. Bowling. I tried to get Xavier, but he wasn't available, or Konrad from your dad's club, so Xavier recommended him."
The doctor is younger than I expected, maybe mid-thirties, with wire-rimmed glasses and a carefully neutral expression. He extends his hand with a practiced smile.
"Ms. Bennett. Heard you had quite the ordeal yesterday."
"That's one way to put it," I reply, shaking his hand.
Dr. Bowling gestures to the couch. "Why don't you have a seat so I can take a look at those injuries?"
I sit, suddenly self-conscious as the doctor sets his bag down and pulls out a stethoscope. Greyson hovers nearby, arms crossed over his chest, watching every move.
"I'll need to examine your throat first," Dr. Bowling says, fingers already reaching for the bruises circling my neck.
The moment he touches me, pain radiates outward. I can't help the sharp gasp that escapes me, my body instinctively flinching away.
Greyson is across the room in an instant, his hand clamping down on the doctor's wrist with enough force to make the smaller man wince.
