Avery (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries #3) - Addison Jane Page 0,38
on the rock, looking past me to where the sun was quickly disappearing behind the city skyline. The hot air around us that had made my sweat stick to my skin was now beginning to cool, a chill settling over me. “What if showing up at the clubhouse that first night was you finding yourself? What if you’d spent so long before trying to be someone they expected you to be? Letting them define you. Letting them tell you who they thought you should be.”
I frowned, taking a step closer to Kid, his words playing over in my head, but at the same time, I was watching them play over and over in his. Like maybe they hadn’t just been for me.
But what if he was right?
Losing Micah wasn’t something I was ever just going to get over. My heart ached for her every single day. For the person who fought for me. Who protected me. Who loved me unconditionally, when everyone else made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.
But losing her had led to the club.
To Shotgun.
To these people I now called my family.
People who were so determined to protect and love me. Who seemed to be there when the universe knew I needed them the most. And yet, who I kept pushing away.
Scared.
Scared that their love meant more pain.
When maybe, it meant healing.
“How’d you get so smart, Kid?”
His eyes jerked up, and for a second, it felt like he was looking straight through me. Then he blinked, and the boyish grin I’d grown to love grew, pinching his cheeks. “I spent a lot of time listening,” he teased, walking over and hooking his arm around my neck. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
AVERY
Holding my breath, I slowly pushed the door open, cringing at the creak I knew so damn well.
The lights were dim, turned low, though I caught the shape of Shotgun’s body instantly. He didn’t look up, and I followed his gaze, finding it focused on the tiny sleeping bundle that lay on his bed. The dark blue onesie he had on was the same color as the comforter slung across the bed, almost making him camouflaged.
But it was the round pale cheeks that made my heart skip for just a second. “He’s beautiful.” Meyah said he was around four months old, but he just seemed so tiny.
“He is,” Shotgun whispered, his voice catching and his face twisting in pain as if the words were like razor blades in his throat.
There were men who were made to be fathers.
And there were men who weren’t.
I knew in my gut that Shotgun was the former. He was a born leader and protector. These men looked up to him. They looked at him as not simply the guy in charge, but as the man who they could trust to follow, who they could trust to lead because he was willing to do whatever the fuck necessary to protect his family.
Blood or not.
“He’s perfect,” I whispered softly, making my way around the side of the bed and gently climbing up onto it. I smiled as I smoothed my fingers across the baby boy’s soft hair, the pure blond strands sticking up all over. They felt like feathers, so light and silky smooth.
Shotgun stood back against the wall, his back pressed hard against it like it was the only thing keeping him from falling to the floor.
Or running.
“She had a fucking husband,” he murmured, his brow pinching as he stared across the room, almost like he was watching a movie play on the wall. A piece of his past that was so vivid, so real to him. “It wasn’t like I loved the girl, but why? Why fuck with me while she’s married?”
And there it was, the reason why this man was so hard to not fall in love with.
He was a fucking biker.
Why should he give a damn if she had a husband?
Why should he give a shit about the person he’s sticking his dick in?
Because to Shotgun, when it comes to loyalty—you either are or you aren’t. You don’t get to choose when it suits you and when it doesn’t.
It twisted my stomach.
His gaze jerked toward me. Watching that pain in his eyes, knowing it was caused because of these feelings he had for someone else—it was fucking hard to take. Especially for me, who has been pretending like my feelings for him aren’t so much stronger.