Unbreakable: Unrequited Part Two (Fallen Aces MC Book 2) (36 page)

She tips her head to one side, and her long black locks slip over her bare shoulder. She looks good in a bright yellow tank top and a pair of light blue cut-offs. It’s the closest to summery I’ve seen her dress.

“You ever get that feelin’ that maybe you were never meant to be able to find the answer to a problem? That perhaps it was a trick question?”

“Sometimes.” She shrugs. “Is that what’s bothering you? You can’t find the answer to your problem?”

“
Problems.
” I stress the
S
. “And not all of it’s solely mine.”

“You’re only human, King.” She twitches her lips into a sympathetic smile. “You can’t always be the winner.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I’m also tired of always bein’ the loser.”

“You’re not a loser,” she says quietly, fidgeting with a fold in the covers.

My heartbeat echoes in my ears. Saying it out loud scares the shit out of me, but I have to face my fears if I’m ever going to get past this. “You don’t love me anymore, do you?”

Her gaze moves to the floor beside the bed and she pulls in a long breath . . . then shrugs.

“What kind of answer is that?” I yank the sheet back over my head.

“The truth,” she whispers. “I really don’t know.”

The mattress lifts as my will to live plummets.

***

The room is pitch black when I feel her return. She slips onto the bed behind me, lying on top of the sheets, and curls her body into mine, making herself the big spoon. The silence is deafening, her whispered words seeming as loud as thunder when she leans her head close to mine and says, “I might not know how I feel about us anymore, but it doesn’t mean I like seeing you like this.” Her fingers brush against my cheek, and I weaken. “Rest and get better, okay? You’ve got a son who’s asking where his dad is, and a bunch of people who care about you a lot, wondering if they’ve done something to let you down.”

Warm lips press against my neck sending a tingle skittering across my flesh. Her body pulls away from mine, and once more she leaves me worse off than when she walked in.

I wish she’d stop leaving me.

I can’t take her pulling away from me again.

***

“You awake?”

I blink against the bright light, confused for a moment before I realize that my drapes have been opened.

I don’t answer.

“I can see your eyes are open,” Elena admonishes.

She moves into my line of sight and sets a plate down on the nightstand. “You need to eat.”

She hesitates, her legs blocking my view of the sun on the floor. I catch her tired sigh as she turns and leaves the room again. I count to one hundred and eighty in my head, wanting to be certain she’s not about to walk back in, and then push up to one elbow to scout the food on the plate. Two cookies sit beside an apple, and a chilled bottle of water rests behind the dish. I reach out and snag one of the cookies, not sure if I can stomach the acidity of the apple given how long it’s been since I ate.

I swing my legs out on the third bite and sit on the side of the bed, staring at the gray sky. Something about the beautiful simplicity of nature gives me a little hope that there’s life in me yet. I take another bite and smile as I think back on how Garret and I would sneak out to see the full moon, always counting down the days until it showed on Mom’s calendar. There was something about that huge white orb that brought us back to Earth and reminded us how little we really were, how insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Whatever troubles we had, they paled in comparison. Nothing seemed so important or trivial after we’d sat out and stared at the craters, pretending if we looked hard enough we’d see space people walking over the surface.

I put the last bite in my mouth and cross the room to dig my phone out of my jeans. The battery has drained, which means I’ve been up here for at least two days. The icon lights up as I connect it to the charger and start it up. Flicking through the screens, I find and open the Google app, and then type in “lunar calendar.” The next full moon is scheduled for tonight, confirming my suspicions, having watched the moonlight get brighter with each night that passed of late.

I take a bathroom break and return refreshed enough to try the apple. By the time that big old orb floats into the sky, I’ve got myself set up beside the bed with pillows and the covers tucked around my shoulders to watch it climb to the highest point. I’m transfixed by it, relishing the same feeling of insignificance, praising that after all these years it still has the ability to remind me how trivial my problems really are in the scheme of things.

The light from the hall creeps into the room, disturbing my perfect viewing spot. I sigh and brace for her, opening my covers out when she rounds the end of the bed. Elena drops in beside me and stares out the window at the moon as I tuck her in.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I can think of better.” She’s oblivious to the fact I’m staring at her, admiring her delicate profile as she stares in wonder at the simple thing that’s managed to give me the kick in the ass I needed.

“How are you feeling?” She startles when she turns her head and realizes how close our faces are.

“Better. Refreshed and ready to tackle this bullshit.”

She leans in, tucking her head into the crook of my neck, right where it’s always belonged. “You don’t have to carry the burden alone. Those people down there?” She sighs and shifts her hand to rest against my chest. “They love you, King. I’ve spent a lot of time getting to know them, considering I don’t have anywhere else I can go, and I’m not beneath admitting I might have been a bit quick to judge.” Her palm pats me twice. “They’re good people, and they want to help.”

“And what about you?” I ask through a thick throat.

She laughs through her nose. “Jury’s still out.”

I place my lips against her head and close my eyes. Maybe with time she’ll get there, and she’ll realize how she feels.
I sound exactly like I have for the past eight years.

“What changed?” I ask. “What happened to make you question something we never used to doubt?”

“Same thing I’ve said a thousand times over,” she says. “You let me down when I needed you most . . . more than once.”

“I won’t do it again.”

She shakes her head, pulling free to sit up straight. “And you’ve said
that
a thousand times over, too.”

What will I have to do to prove to her that this time I truly mean it? “However you feel,” I murmur, “I never stopped loving you. Not one single day. Not even for an hour. You were it for me. You still are.”

I catch the jagged shudder of her breath before she slips out of the covers and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her and sending me back into the black in far more ways than one.

Elena

If all it took was me giving my right arm to make him better, I'd brandish the damn saw myself. I've never seen him this low, and I guess it's to be expected. I, of all people, know that's it's impossible to stay strong forever. The man carries a hell of a burden on his back. He's where the buck stops; he's who they all turn to for advice, for the final word, for the solution.

I know I couldn't shoulder that responsibility.

The days King has been holed up upstairs have given me a brash insight into the club. His VP, Callum, stepped in and took on the essential day-to-day duties, but even he openly admitted to another member that he doesn't know how King does it, considering he struggled to get his head around half the tasks.

Dante, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. He's thriving in this environment. The kid's made three new friends, children of members, and he's loving the added attention being around such a diverse group of people gives him. The mechanic took him out to the garage the day before last, and when I went out to check up on them two hours later, I found Dante helping a dark-headed girl clean a bike down.

He was happy. He's found purpose to being here.

Me? I still don't feel as though I fit.

There was truth in what I said to King; I was too quick to judge. The women especially have been welcoming and there to offer me help at every step of the way. Sonya, who
is
the woman from the bookstore, has even given me clothes to wear until I manage to either recover or replace my own. I haven't asked King which it'll be
—
he's got far more important things to worry about than my possessions. Sure, it’s hard with no purse, no phone, and no access to my bank accounts until I get my ID replaced, but I’m alive. I’m healthy. I’ve got so much more to be grateful for than worrying over items that can be renewed.

The sun sets on another mild spring day as I stare out over the backyard at two birds that hop over the grass in search of worms. People come and go around me, paying me no mind. I guess as much as I feel an outcast, I still appreciate the fact that they leave me be. Everybody here has a purpose, a reason to be at the clubhouse. I don't.

Ramona emerges through the laundry door, an empty basket in hand, and hesitates when she spots me on the deck. She tips her head to the side and smiles. I don't know a lot about her other than that she was with Carlos's son, Sawyer, for a while, and that they have a son together
—
Mack. Dante's been playing with him most days, and I was hesitant at first, but soon let it go when I saw how much the kids have in common.

"You want to give me a hand?" she calls out.

I nod and cross over to where she is. We walk in silence together to the washing line, where Ramona drops the basket and begins unpegging the clean laundry.

"How's the injury?" I ask quietly, guilt still ripe at what she suffered because of me.

"Oh, it's not too bad." She extends her leg and swivels it left to right. "A little stiff at times, but nothing a good stretch won't sort out."

I take a sheet down and shake it out before matching the corners. "I'm sorry it happened."

She stops with a towel in her hands and stares curiously. "Why? Did you pull the trigger?"

I get her point, but still, if it wasn't for my stubbornness they wouldn't have been there to begin with. "It's still my fault you were there that day."

"I was asked, Elena, and I offered to help. So don't you go wearing any of this on your shoulders, okay?"

I nod and fold the sheet into a neat square. "Callum told me that Sawyer has returned home with Carlos."

She stills and stares down at the ground. "Yes."

"Are you worried about him?" I don't know anything about their relationship, but I presume there have to be some feelings there if they had a child together.

"We weren't a conventional couple," she admits, "so yes, I'm worried, but mostly just saddened it got to be this way." Her face lifts and clear eyes pin me in their gaze. "What was he like with you? Carlos? Is he as bad as everybody says, or is it just rumors to make him seem more of a threat, you know?"

I sigh and snatch up a pillow case. "I don't know what you heard, but I can assure you it's just as bad, if not worse."

She drops her folded towel into the basket and walks closer. "King's real worried about you."

"I know." I hastily fold the sheet into a much less tidy square than the last. "I am about him, too."

"He hasn't told us how you two met, but I gather it was a long time ago."

"Yes."

"Tell me if I'm asking too much." She steps away and folds another two towels before asking the next question. "Do you love him?"

"What business of yours is that?"

"I’m simply looking out for a friend." She shakes out a towel with a snap of the fabric. "He invests a lot in you, and so far all I see is a complete lack of gratitude on your behalf." This tiny woman has one incredibly sharp tongue when unleashed.

"If you knew our history
—
as you say you don't
—
then maybe you'd understand."

"He doesn't do anything to spite people, King. He does everything out of the good of his heart."

"Don’t you think I know that?" I throw the next sheet in the basket half-folded. "What is it you really want to say?"

She lances me with a heated stare. "Don't take advantage of him. If you want his help, take it, but don't pick and choose what he does for you out of convenience. Stop messing him around
—
he doesn’t deserve it."

The anger inside of me rages so thick it needs an outlet. I lash out and kick the washing basket over, spilling clean laundry on the concrete path and grass. "You don’t know a damn thing about me. I've been through fucking hell and back to be with that man, and after all that, he left me to come back to this fucking shithole. I'm done with you people judging me. I thought you were nice, but now I see the truth."

"And what would that be?" she snaps.

"That you all stick up for each other and outsiders aren't welcome here." I spin and storm toward the damn clubhouse, pissed off that I have to walk back into the one place that's the source of all my anger. Ramona looks surprised when I whirl around to serve her one final line. "And don’t worry, if I had a fucking house to go to, I'd be out of here and out of sight in no time."

But I don’t. Because like everything else, King has that under his control. I'm barred from going home, stuck here to suffer through the judgments of these people who only know King as he is now, who don’t know what we went through all those years ago.

Fuck them.

As soon as I have an opening, I'll be out of here. And this time? I won’t look back.

I’m not making that mistake twice.

King

Three weeks later

"Can't say I expected to see you back here so soon." Mom stands from where she'd knelt in front of her flowers, weeding.

"It's been weeks, Mom."

"Yes, it has. And last time you stormed out it was almost a year." She sighs. "How are things with Elena and your boy?"

I shrug. Ever since she showed me that glimmer of hope while I had my bender, she's been hot and cold with her emotions. One day she'll be laughing at a joke, the next she's shooting foul looks my way as she does her best to avoid me. A mean feat given she's still stuck at the clubhouse until I can organize a new house for her.