Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“How do you know?”
“Because she sent me fuckin’ divorce papers,” I replied flatly.
“You haven’t seen her in six months,” she pointed out like I hadn’t been counting the fucking days. “Maybe she thinks you’re done.”
I stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll be back later,” I finally mumbled, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head.
I turned around and walked out the door, heading straight for my bike.
* * *
Showing up at her apartment was a bad idea. I realized that the moment I’d pulled up. She’d never come to see me. She hadn’t called or even told her sister to say hi to me in the entire time we’d been apart.
Maybe she was with someone else. Maybe that was why she’d finally sent the divorce papers.
I had no idea what was going on in her life.
I parked my bike and climbed off, but I didn’t move toward her apartment. My hands shook as I lit up a smoke, and I shivered a little as the wind blew. It was cold as fuck, but thank God it wasn’t raining.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to her. I wanted to ask her how she’d been, apologize to her for everything that had happened, and beg her to forgive me. That was selfish, though. I didn’t deserve her forgiveness.
It didn’t matter I’d never hurt her in a million years. She’d believed I was going to. I’d scared her. Badly.
I stared at her door as I finished my cigarette and dropped it on the pavement, crushing it beneath my boot. My palms were sweating. As I debated lighting another one up to give me a few extra minutes to think things through, her door opened.
Then she was there, standing in her doorway, looking at me like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Chapter 19
Heather
I’d never forget the sound of a Harley’s pipes. It was one of those noises, that as soon as you knew what it was, you could recognize it anywhere. I’d heard it dozens of times when I was with Tommy, when we’d be at the club or he’d pull up outside my apartment, but I’d only heard that particular sound a few times since we’d split. Sometimes Rocky brought my sister over and dropped her off, and even though I’d known they were coming, my stomach would do this weird swooping thing the moment I’d hear them pull up.
I was working on some history homework when I heard the familiar rumble. I had music on while I typed, but the unmistakable sound was clear as day and I froze in the middle of my sentence on Thomas Jefferson. A few seconds later, the sound was gone, but it hadn’t drifted away.
My heart pounded as I closed my laptop and slid off my bed.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and smoothed down my hair as I waited for a knock on my door. Then I hurriedly made my bed. I looked around the room and noticed my plethora of water glasses on my bedside table, so I picked those up and set them in the kitchen sink. Then I stared at the door.
There was no knock.
I glanced around in confusion for a second, wondering if I’d been hearing things. I knew I’d heard Harley pipes.
I strode over to the door and swung it open.
Even though I’d been expecting him, I was still blown away when I came face to face with Thomas Hawthorne.
He was leaning on his bike with a pack of cigarettes in his hand, and as his eyes met mine, they widened.
I couldn’t speak. I opened my mouth to say something, but the words got tangled up in my throat. He looked good.
His hair was longer on top. Even messier than it had been before. And his cheeks had lost the hollow look I’d assumed was his normal. He was cleaner than I remembered, more put together, less sloppy.
“Hey, wife,” he said quietly, standing up straighter.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms across my chest.
God, I’d missed him. Why the hell had I missed him so much? Seeing him was like turning the light on after being without power. Everything was brighter. Clearer.
“I got the papers,” he said roughly, taking a few steps forward.
“I wasn’t sure where to send them,” I mumbled, refusing to step backward as he came closer.
“I’ve been stayin’ with my parents,” he replied with an embarrassed smile. “Hard to sleep at the clubhouse, and my place still isn’t fit for humans.”
“I’m sure your mom loves that,” I said stiltedly, smiling back.
It was awkward and uncomfortable, and the only thing that would have been worse was if he’d turned and walked away.
“I’m—” he stuttered to a halt and laughed uncomfortably, pushing his hair back from his face. “I wanted to apologize. For that night—I wanted to apologize.”