The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,62

a sharp breath and exhale slowly. "I'm not a good person. I'm ungrateful. I'm a—"

"Don't you dare," he grits out, then drops my hand to move in closer. "Don't you dare try to blame yourself for what she did."

"No," I hiss, narrowing my eyes up at him. "I blame you."

His eyebrows shot up, shocked. "Y-you blame me? Are you serious?"

"You're supposed to be dead. You were supposed to die over there, but you came back. You came back, and you came for me, and you..." I blink away the blur of blooming tears, beating them back. "And you made me happy. You made me happy and you made me forget. I forgot to check up on her. I forgot, Scratch. I forgot! Because of you!"

“This is bullshit,” he mutters under his breath. Then louder, "If you really wanted me dead, then you wouldn't have given me this."—He yanks off Papà’s chain from around his neck and shakes it in front of my face— "If you didn't want to be happy, you wouldn't have left your polished mansion to give your virginity away in a dirty trailer. You wouldn't have waited for me to come back alive. You wouldn't have stayed with me. Kathy didn't throw you out, you left, because that's what you wanted. I'm what you wanted."

"Well,"—I swipe tears from my cheek— "I don't want you anymore."

"No, Peach, you don't want me.” He wraps his fingers around the back of my neck and jerks me flush up against him. "You fucking need me. And you're scared shitless because now that the bitch is dead, you no longer have a go-to excuse. You liked having her to hide behind, like I was the big bad wolf and she was your savior. But you're wide open now. Mine, all mine, and you know it. So you're tryna do what you've always done—build a wall of reasons and excuses and hide behind it." He lowers his head until his lips are a breath from mine. "But I. Won't. Let. You."

His lips are so close. So close. And I want to kiss him so badly. Deeply. My heart kicks up in my chest like a wild horse as I say, "I don't want to be with you."

"Liar." His eyes laugh at me. "You're mine, Peach. Through and through."

He dips his head lower, the heat of his lips brushing against mine. And just when I think he's about to kiss me, just when I close my eyes in eager anticipation for the invasion of his tongue, he lets me go and steps back.

"I'm heading out for eight weeks," he says.

What? Where? I want to ask but I don't, because then he'll know I care.

"I left the club," he offers when I say nothing.

"Is that how you got that shiner?"

His head jerks in the affirmative. "Shit gets ugly when a brother tries to leave the Heathens." He shrugs as if to say, ‘but what you gonna do?’

“I’m sorry that happened,” I say. “Are you in pai—”

"Got a job offer and I’m taking off for training,” he carries on, cutting me off. “Gonna be out of touch for a while."

"Okay. Not that it's any of my business—"

"But when I get back," he continues as if I hadn't spoken, "your pretty little ass better be home and waiting for me. In other words, you've only got eight weeks left to keep on with this bullshit. If you wanna think, think. If you wanna plan, plan. If you wanna get baptized, get baptized. Hell, I'll even give you a hall pass to kiss some punk if it makes you feel better. But use these eight weeks wisely, because once I get back, that's where the nonsense ends, and our life begins."

He takes my hand, turns it over, and press Papà’s necklace into my palm. "Think you need this more than I do right now. Keep it safe 'til I get back."

He drops a kiss to my forehead, chucks my chin, and then he's gone.

Chapter 17

Leyana

They caught me off-guard.

All because of freaking Isaac.

Had he not kept me up last night with all that noise from an apparent threesome, I wouldn't have slept until almost nine in the morning, and they wouldn't have been able to catch me unaware. Innately an early riser, I would’ve been up before the sun, long before Isaac, and when they knocked on the door, I wouldn't have allowed them in.

Freaking Isaac.

As it is right now, I'm paused at the entrance to the kitchen, staring