Page 20 of Wrecked By Rev

Niall is leaning against my car. Arms crossed, expression pleasant, like he has every right to be here. Like he’s been waiting.

“What do you want?” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.

“Just to talk.” He pushes off the car and walks toward me. I don’t back up. I refuse to back up. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been living my life. There’s a difference.”

“That biker.” His pleasant expression flickered. “You’re really doing this? Trading down to some greasy mechanic?”

“I’m not trading anything. And who I spend my time with is none of your business.”

“Everything about you is my business.” He’s closer now. Too close. “Don’t you get that? I’ve been watching you for months. I know your schedule, your routines, your favorite places. I know you better than anyone. That’s why we’d be perfect together.”

“You don’t know me at all.” I’m shaking—anger, not fear. Or maybe both. “You’re a customer who couldn’t take no for an answer. That’s it. That’s all you’ve ever been. We are not together.”

His hand shoots out and grabs my arm.

The grip is hard. Hard enough to hurt. Hard enough that I know there will be bruises tomorrow.

“Let go of me.”

“Not until you listen.” His voice is still calm, still pleasant, and that’s the scariest part. “You’re making a mistake with this biker. He’s going to get bored of you, or he’s going to get himself killed doing whatever illegal shit his club is into, and then where will you be? Alone. Again.”

“I said let go.”

“I’m the one who’s been here, Angel. I’m the one who’s been patient. I’m the one who?—”

“Let. Go.”

Something in my voice must finally land, because his grip loosens. I yank my arm free and take three steps back.

“Don’t come near me again,” I say. “Don’t come to my café. Don’t come to my apartment. Don’t leave notes on my car or any of the other creepy shit you’ve been doing for four months. We’re done. This is done.”

His face changes. The pleasant mask cracks, and underneath it is something ugly.

“You’ll regret this,” he says quietly. “When he leaves you broken and alone, you’ll remember that I was the one who actually cared.”

Then he turns and walks to his truck and drives away.

I stand there shaking for a long moment. Then I unlock the door and go back inside the café.

I can’t drive like this. My hands are trembling too hard to grip the wheel. I sink into one of the booths and press my palms flat against the table, trying to breathe.

I should have waited. Should have stayed inside until Rev got here. This is my fault—I got cocky, got comfortable, and now?—

The door opens.

I flinch hard, but it’s Rev. Of course it’s Rev. Six o’clock on the dot, just like always.

His eyes find me immediately. I watch his expression shift—confusion, then concern, then something darker as he takes in the way I’m sitting, the way I’m shaking.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

He crosses to the booth in three strides and slides in across from me. “You’re not fine. Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. Niall was here, but he left. It’s over.”