her plate and digging in while I filled the glasses with water from the fridge.
“There’s pad thai too,” I said, opening up the second container. She thanked me, but ignored it as I sat and took portions of each for myself. It wasn’t until she finished her rice that she scooped pad thai onto her plate and ate that. “Do we need to talk about what happened?” I asked after I’d given her enough time to fill her empty stomach.
“Nope,” she said, taking a sip of water. “We had sex. Moving on.”
“It was more than just sex, Baby Girl. That’s why you’re being so weird right now. Because you know it as well as I do.” Every time she set her fork down, she placed it on her napkin so that it lined up perfectly. She blanched when she realized I noticed it, moving past it by plastering a fake smile on her face.
“Don’t be clingy. You were fun, Enzo. That’s all it can be.”
“Why's that?” I asked. Sadie guarded herself more fiercely than women I knew who’d suffered a serious heartbreak, but she gave nothing away as she finished eating and stood to rinse her plate and load it into the dishwasher.
“Because I don’t want anything else.”
“Even you don’t believe that, Little Liar,” I said, watching as she retreated for the steps to lock herself away for the night. She stilled for a moment, turning her head back to face me.
“Do yourself a favor and just stop. This won’t end well,” she whispered.
“Who says it has to end?”
“Because it always does,” she murmured, hurrying up the steps to get away from me. I let it slide, giving her the space she needed as I tried to quell the conflicting urges inside me. I wanted to stab the man who’d hurt her so horrendously, but I also felt grateful that he’d walked away from the woman I’d made mine.
I didn’t know what to do with that.
The roar of the bike thrummed beneath me as we swerved between traffic. For years, my bike had been my home on wheels. The place I went to when I needed to feel grounded against all the bullshit circling my world. When I needed to remind myself I was human, that it was okay to feel guilt over all the death in my life, that it served as a reminder that I wasn't a robot without emotions.
Not entirely anyway.
I wasn't Ryker, with no remorse for torture and death. I'd never paint the world red and go home to kiss my wife and kids without a shred of guilt. Even when blood and brain splatter served as my medium on a canvas of death, there were still moments in the aftermath where I wondered if I lived on borrowed time. If the day would come when I lost all traces of who I'd once been and became nothing but the killing machine that roared in my veins the same as my bike thrummed underneath me.
The thought of my bike without Sadie's warmth pressed against my spine as it was in that moment no longer held the same appeal it had before. Where it had once felt like freedom, I suspected all I would feel without her there was the need to have her against me.
She was my new home.
She was my freedom and my redemption. This spunky woman who looked at me as if I held the keys to the chains that trapped her in a cage of her own making. She'd fight it and wouldn't recognize what I already saw in her honey brown eyes when she looked at me, but the clutch of her fingers against my t-shirt as she held on for dear life was more than just a safety precaution. It was the grasp of a woman clinging to everything she wanted, and everything she convinced herself she could never have.
I knew the sentiment better than most. I understood the mentality and recognized it for what it was.
Even if I didn't know what damage plagued her and made her feel unworthy, I'd get to the bottom of it soon enough. There was no part of Sadie that I wouldn't uncover for myself. No piece of her soul that I wouldn't overturn in my quest to make her mine. Her doubts, her fears, her strengths and weaknesses: I'd swallow them whole and claim them as my own. When she was ready, I'd imprint her with my soul until I was a steady pulse