Page 75 of Hating On Riot

I nod.

His large palm cups my face. He lowers his mouth to mine. “I missed you, Laney. Miss you so much it hurts to breathe when I think about you. I can’t move on. Can’t let anyone else into my heart. I have to say what I should’ve said to you that day, but I was too dumb to see how much you meant to me. You made me happy, baby. I love you so much. Goodbye, Laney girl.”

He brushes his mouth over mine. Brock doesn’t coax them open with his tongue. He moves his mouth side to side. He’s a gentleman. He loved my sister. He misses her as much as, or more than, I do.

“Goodbye,” I whisper against his lips as he ends our chaste kiss.

My eyes water. My throat burns with emotion. We don’t pull apart. We stay in the moment, knowing this is it. I’m saying goodbye to my guilt over my sister’s death. Brock is saying goodbye to his first love.

The air moves. Brock’s body is yanked from the booth. He lands on the floor and is kicked in the gut and the head. He shields his head with his hands. I’m frozen in my seat. There’s yelling and screaming. My brothers slide out of the booth and pound Brock’s attacker with their fists. Blood hits my cheek. I blink. All sound is muted, then everything hits me at once.

Glass shatters. Bodies hit the ground with a floor-shaking thud, as big as the guys are. Riot snarls and drops f-bombs after f-bombs. Brock growls and answers in kind. Merrick punches and kicks my brothers. He tosses Tony onto the table, then grabs Cameron. Cameron’s body flies and hits the back wall near the bathroom. Oh, God, Merrick is hurting my brothers. Riot is hurting the guy who loved Laney.

Bile rises in my throat. My heartbeat is loud in my ears. I’m ready to vomit. I’m ready to curl up somewhere away from the violence and chaos. I want my predictable, safe life back. This is too much. I run out of the diner.

Tears blur my vision, but I don’t care. I run and run until I spot a familiar black pickup truck. I flag down Midnight. He parks at the curb. The passenger-side door opens. I hop inside before the guys can get to me.

“Should I wait?” He jerks his chin toward the diner.

“No. Please take me away from here.”

He looks at me with concern before he drives off.

“Where to?”

Yes, where to?

29

Arie

It’s been a week since I ran off on Riot. A week since he watched two guys kiss me. A week since I’ve been back at my place, with my brothers huffing and puffing around the house, their egos bruised from the beating Merrick and Riot gave them.

We don’t talk about that day or about Brock. Brock had his closure. He’s back with his girlfriend. He gave me his number, and we text all the time. He and his girlfriend make a great couple. We met at the diner for breakfast before class started.

She’s tiny, with long blond hair, the prettiest hazel eyes, and the friendliest smile. Laney, up in Heaven, would be happy for her love that he has such a kind, wonderful woman by his side. She’s studying to become a veterinarian.

Hope and Cooper are doing well too. I go out for coffee with them occasionally. Or Hope and I cruise the aisles of Lee’s Bookstore, looking for our next book boyfriend. Riley, that butt, brings up how Riot goes on and on about how great she makes his pumpkin spice latte. I threatened not to return an item she’s borrowed if she brings him up again. That shut her up quick.

I stand in front of a door painted midnight blue, my heart beating a mile a minute. It’s Saturday afternoon, and I made the two-hour drive to Alexandria under the guise of telling Cam and Tony I missed Mom and little Christopher. I’m also here to see Merrick. I couldn't care less about Grayson. It’s Merrick who makes the decisions in the O’Sullivan family.

I knock and wait. A cold sweat sweeps over me. I bite my inner cheek to keep from passing out. I almost turned the car around the moment I entered Alexandria. But I have to do this; otherwise, there’s no future for Riot and me.

I enjoyed my peaceful life. It’s what I had before Riot took me under his wing and showed me life is meant to be lived, not just going through the motions. Living is what makes us who we are. And living means challenges, difficulties, change, making the hard calls, and facing what scares us. This is one of them. Merrick is one scary guy.

The door opens a crack. Merrick peeks at me through the narrow gap left by the multiple deadbolts. “Whatcha want?”

“To talk. Can I come in?”

There are two beats of silence. He grunts, and the door swings wider. I step forward. The door slams in my face. Stunned, I stand there, mouth agape. Disappointed, angry, hurt, I march off his porch and to my car.

“Wait, I thought you wanted to talk,” he calls after me.

“You slammed the door in my face!” I shoot over my shoulder.

“To close it so I can undo the deadlocks!”

Oh, fuck me, of course. I turn and hurry into Merrick’s place. He gestures toward a round table in the kitchen. I sit and wring my hands.