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  There’s still anger in his tone, heavy and unyielding. I knew he’d be angry with me, but I thought somewhere in his heart he’d find the love he once had and be able to forgive me. “Yeah, Jag. I fucking ran away because I felt like some me time,” I retort sarcastically.

  I don’t know why I’m angry with him. I’m the one who lied.

  “I walked out to keep you from having to deal with the shit that my choices would have brought into your life. And you know why I didn’t come back?” My question is spat angrily, my body vibrating with fear, regret and anger.

  His eyes lift, slow and steady, then he snaps his gaze to mine in a split second. And in that moment, I see the anger, volatile and dangerous, dance in his chocolate eyes. “No, Ava. I’d love to know what was so damn important that you couldn’t trust me with it. Love is meant to be a two-way street. Or was that not what you felt? Was it just sex? Were you with me just for a roll in the hay when you needed it?”

  His questions sting. Slicing through my chest, finding the heart that is so full of love for him, and shattering it with each grunted word. His gaze lingers on mine. Those lips that were quirked into a sinful confident grin drop and his brows furrow as he frowns at me.

  “Tell me, Ava.” His voice is low, commanding, and I know it’s now or never. I take a deep breath. Needing to calm my rage, my pain, my frustration at our situation. The one I put us in, and I shake my head. Allowing my stare to fall to his hands, I open my mouth and the words tumble from them.

  My confession. My pain. My truth.

  “Because I didn’t want to tell you that I lost our baby.” I mumble out the words and push past him.

  The ladies’ room on the other end of the bar is the only place I’ll get privacy so I head that way hastily. I hear him call to me, but I don’t stop. Shoving the door open, I make my way directly into one of the stalls, locking the door behind me.

  Tears burn my eyes. As I blink, they fall. Streaming down my cheeks, they’re filled with sadness at what I lost.

  What we lost.

  And it’s all my fault.

  Love and loss aren’t new to me, but this is too much. I feel as if I’m drowning and I can’t find my footing. The door slams open against the wall and I know he’s just walked into the women’s restroom.

  “Where the fuck are you?” I flinch at his tone. Ignoring his angry question, I sit on the closed toilet, biting my lip to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use. There’s too much pain for me to bottle up anymore. I knew this would happen. When I stepped off the bus I knew I’d have to tell him. “Ava, come out here now, or I’ll break down the fucking door and drag you out.”

  Slowly, I push to my feet. My body racks with sobs, and even though I try to hold them back I know it’s no use. My arms wrap around my middle, as if they can hold in the agony from spilling out and infecting the space between us. The pain of that day, the moment the doctor told me, plays on a loop in my mind. Each time I think about it, it breaks me more and more. And I wonder how much more I can take.

  Once I unlock the stall door, I’m expecting anger, fury, even rage, but what I find are none of those things. Instead, I find fear. Confusion.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice is low, croaky with emotion. Jagger reaches out, his index finger tips my head up by my chin so our gazes lock and I see it in his dark eyes. He’s asking me wordlessly to explain. I’ve known this man for so long that I can tell what he’s thinking, feeling, without him saying a word.

  Chapter Seven

  Jagger

  “Come home with me.” The words are out of my mouth before I have time to register what I’m saying. Her brows furrow in confusion. Shit. I’m all over the place. “I want you to explain everything. And I mean every last moment.”

  She agrees with a slow nod. That’s all the permission I needed. Reaching for her hand, I pull her along behind me. “Jag.” My name is raspy in the soft tone of her voice, but we can’t do this here. I can’t hear her while we’re surrounded by people, by the music. Even as I think that, I know I’m lying to myself because I want her alone. I need to be with her to really see her truth. It’s the only way she’ll let me in.

  “Not now, Pixie.” She obeys, following silently behind me. Her slim frame heats my back as I grip her hand. I can’t let her go again. I made the mistake of watching her walk out my door two years ago, then again today when she left the studio. This time I’m going to make sure she stays.

  We make our way toward the bar where I find Slade with two tatted-up women pawing him. “Dude!” He hollers. Then his gaze falls to Ava.

  “We’re heading out.” I do not need him to fuck this up. Shockingly, he nods without a word. The tension that swirls around me and Ava is at an all-time high. I tug her along beside me as we make out way to the door of the bar. Once we’re outside, I turn to her. “Did you drive here?” I ask, meeting those gem-like green orbs that pierce me in every which way. My mind, my heart, my very soul.

  “No.” One word, it’s low, whispered, but I hear her. I’ve always heard her. If only she trusted me enough to tell me everything, we wouldn’t be doing this, but we’ll be stronger for it. I’ll make sure of it. Pulling the door open to my Jeep, helping her up, I wait for her to buckle her seat belt. Once she’s secure, I round the truck and slip into the driver’s seat.

  “Jag—”

  “Not now, Pixie. We’re going to my place. You’re going to explain yourself. I can’t listen to this while I’m driving. I’ll fucking lose my shit.” My growl is all she needs to shut the fuck up. I’m not angry, I’m in shock. Who wouldn’t be when they’ve just found out they lost a child they didn’t know existed?

  My mind replays that in earnest. My body tenses with confusion.

  The silence gives me time to think as we make our way through the quiet streets. It’s only eleven, and the dark sky twinkles with stars overhead. A beautiful evening for an ugly confession.

  Sneaking glances at Ava, I notice her worrying that plump lower lip between her teeth. This is not what I expected when she walked into my store earlier today. It’s also nothing close to what I’d envisioned my night turning into.

  I wanted to lose myself in alcohol. And as much as I planned going home with a stranger and fucking my anger out on her, it would be Ava in the back of my mind. It always is.

  She’s part of who I am. When I met her almost eight years ago, she was a broken girl of twenty who’d run away from home. Looking for a place to stay and a job, she focused on what needed to be done. To survive. Shattered by a life I had only gotten small glimpses of, her fierce nature and determination made sure she flourished as an artist. Perhaps that’s what made me fall for her. Her strength was like a drug, I needed her.

  Her physical appearance is somewhat boyish. With all the ink, piercings, and her short pixie-like haircut, she came across as someone who didn’t take shit. And she never did. Not from customers in the store, not even from me. With those green eyes, rosy lips, and pert ass, she had offers every night, but I was the one she went home with. She chose me. This time, I’m choosing her.

  Now, she’s filled out, her breasts are bigger, she’s got more curve in her hips, she’s even more perfect than before. But her eyes still hold the conviction, strength, and passion I was first entranced with.

  As soon as she walked out of my studio earlier today, I felt that emptiness from losing someone you love, the same feeling I got when she walked out two years ago. After all this time my heart and mind is still firmly locked on this woman.

  Everywhere I went, she’d haunt me. Memories of her would attack with vengeance. Now, all I can hope for is the truth. We need to move forward, but before we can do that, we need to close off the past.

  I pull up to the drive, pressing the button and allowing the gate to slide open. My apartment is in a small block of four. I’ve lived her
e for most of my adult life. The neighbors are quiet and mind their own business which I like.

  As soon as I pull into my parking space, I inhale deeply. I can’t stop wanting her to stay. I’ll just have to make it happen.

  Chapter Eight

  Ava

  The drive to his apartment is filled with a deathly silence. My muscles are tense with worry. As soon as he kills the engine, we both exit the car. I don’t wait for him because I’m shaking with worry at what he’s going to do.

  The apartment is exactly how I remember. Within the small courtyard a staircase leads up to the steel and glass door. Once inside, I notice nothing’s changed. The sleek black leather sofa is the only new item in the space. It’s an open-plan living area with a kitchen toward the back of the large room. The door to the bedroom is shut. I make my way in, settling on the sofa and waiting for him to tell me what he wants.

  I’m alone for a moment and I hear him rustling around the kitchen. The drawers open, then shut, and when he enters the living room again he’s carrying two bottles of Goose Island beer.

  “Talk.”

  This isn’t going to be easy, but I take a deep breath and look at him perched on the edge of the desk. “When I left I didn’t know I was... I didn’t realize I was pregnant. When I started getting pains in my stomach, I was rushed to the hospital and...” I can’t say it. I can’t tell him I lost his baby, our baby, because of the life I once had. Because I chose that over him. It’s my fault.

  All my life I’ve failed. When I turned twenty and stopped hating the world for just a moment, I learned to push past my pain. I focused on work, I set myself goals in order to never lose anything again, and then Jag sauntered in to my life. Slowly, he showed me that there is more to life than your past.

  My mother ran off with some man I didn’t know, leaving me with a father who thought the bottom of a bottle was his only answer. It fucked me right up. What Jag didn’t know was that at the young age of eighteen I’d stupidly married a man who was bad for me.

  When we first met, it was nothing short of the fairy tale every girl dreams about. A knight in shining armor, strolling into her life to save her. Then I learned what he did when he wasn’t with me. The drugs, the alcohol, it became too much. When I called him out on it one day, he turned around and shoved me against a wall.

  I knew I should leave, but I couldn’t. Fear held me in place and I stayed. After every mishap, and each apology. Tears were nothing new to me. Pain was something I’d become accustomed to. And after each bruise, he said sorry. Told me he loved me. The girl inside believed him, and each day a tiny piece of her cracked.

  For a year I put up with the nightmare I’d gotten myself into, then one night, I ran. I walked out with the clothes on my back and stumbled upon the new tattoo store and got my first ink. For the first four years of our relationship Jag was there for me as a friend, a confidant, and even though he didn’t know my whole truth, he still gave me the support I needed. That slowly changed and we dated for another four years. He made me feel again, he made me fall, and then I went and fucked it all up.

  “So you... You just went through that alone?” He’s angry. “There wasn’t one moment in there when you thought of calling me? The father. The man you supposedly loved?” Turning away from me, he plants both hands on the brick fireplace.

  I want to go to him, touch him, hold him, but I don’t. Fear holds me hostage as I watch the turmoil rolling through him. “It’s not that, Jag. I always wanted you, needed you even. I’m a stubborn, proud person. You of all people know that.” Fidgeting with my skirt, I drop my gaze to the material. My fingers twirl the denim around, tightening it just like the tension in my muscles. “I was scared. Brayden was never the easiest man. When I walked into my father’s home and saw him sitting there like he owned the place, I reverted back to a scared eighteen-year-old girl who didn’t know how to fight back. I didn’t realize he had people watching me. Then he mentioned you, coming here with his thugs to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  He doesn’t respond. The silence is thick, hanging heavily between us, like a storm brewing in a darkened sky. I want to say more, but when he notices the tears streaming down my face, he sighs.

  “I promised him I’d come back if he’d leave you alone. If it meant you finding happiness without me, but also being safe, I’d do it.”

  Lifting my eyes, I meet his dead on. He’s a statue. “And the baby?”

  “The night I found out I was pregnant I sat down and decided I’d come to tell you. To let you know, but two days later I was rushed to the hospital after Brayden found the test in the bathroom trash can. To say he was angry... Well...”

  “He fucking hurt you?” There’s venom dripping from the question.

  “We had a fight about it. He wanted me to get rid of it and I didn’t want to. Things became heated and he shoved me against a cabinet which hit me painfully in my abdomen. He didn’t stop. I... I thought I would be okay, but with the amount of stress, and how he hit me, I started bleeding.” My confession falls effortlessly, yet painfully from my lips. My eyes sting as the tears stream down my face. “He made sure I wasn’t...” My words trail off because I can’t bring myself to say the words. “My father called the cops when he heard the fight. They saved me. But they were too late.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” He tugs at his hair, the fury on his handsome face only makes my emotions scatter through me. He rears his fist back and slams it into the wall. “Keep talking!” he bites out, and I flinch at the rumble of his words.

  “I felt like it was my fault. I blamed myself and that’s what kept me away. I’d failed you, our baby. I mean... I was a mess. Fear and guilt stopped me from coming here. I was alone. I should have called you, but in my mind, you hated me so I thought it would be easier to walk away. To let you live your life. I know I fucked up, but... I don’t know, Jag.” The words tumble quickly from my mouth and when I finally finish, I suck in a deep breath.

  The air surrounding us is thick, heavy with tension and anger, and I’m scared. Fearful he’s going to throw me out and tell me to leave. I can’t do that; losing him again will kill me.

  He scrubs his hand over his jaw as he paces back and forth. It’s like watching a tennis match. “And you decided now was the time to come back? What changed your mind?”

  Shifting on my knees, I reach for the beer, gulping a long sip. The effect of the alcohol I had earlier has worn off, bringing with it all the emotions I’d lost in the bottle of tequila. The shit is evil. I glance up, meeting his inquisitive stare, and give him raw honesty. “You. My father had basically told me to sort my shit out. Even though he drowns his sorrows in his bourbon, he set me straight. Told me if I wanted you so much, I should suck it up and walk in here and tell you the truth.” I drop my eyes, take another draw of beer before looking at Jag again. “It was the first time he gave me sound advice. So I took it. I needed a kick in the ass to realize you were the only person I wanted in my life.” It’s the truth.

  “And what’s going to stop you from walking away again?”

  “My love for you. It never stopped, never went away. If anything, it’s only grown stronger. I want you, Jagger Pierce. Only you.”

  My stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly and Jag halts his steps. “Are you hungry?” he questions, and I nod. “Come.” He doesn’t wait for me, instead he stalks to the kitchen. When I follow, I find him pulling open the fridge, taking out eggs, bacon, cheese. He turns to face me. “I’ll make you something to eat. Sit.”

  “Jag, if you’re going to throw me out after, I’d rather leave now.” I curse myself at how weak I sound. I’ve never been like that, I’ve always been independent, strong, fierce, but with Jagger Pierce, I don’t know how else to be but submissive. Needy for him to care for me. To look after me.

  “Who said I was throwing you out?” he
asks, genuine confusion on his face.

  Slipping onto the kitchen stool, I meet his gaze and shrug. “I don’t know, I just thought...”

  “Listen to me, Pixie. There’s no doubt I’m fucking angry, I’m livid, but it’s not at you. The decision you made, I can see how it’s torn you apart. Everything that happened, that situation you were thrown into, that’s what I’m angry about. I suppose I feel left out of your life, out of the choices you made, even though they were for me.” He sighs then, a low, deliberate exhale to possibly calm himself because his body is shaking. “As much as I’d like to go down and find that fucker and kill him for what he put you through, I won’t because I’m the better man. You’re mine, Pixie and there’s no fucking way in hell you’re leaving this apartment again. My life isn’t complete without you in it. You’re deeply rooted in my heart, my mind, and my soul. As much as we need to work through, you’re the only thing I need in my life. I want you to love me the way you did before. Completely. I need you to let me in. In your heart. In your mind. And lastly, in your beautiful body.”

  His words have my heart stuttering. “But—” His finger touches my lips in a gentle caress. We’ve always been volatile, always rough around the edges, but this...this is different. It’s...more.

  “Come here,” he murmurs, tugging me against his solid form. Our bodies fit like a key in a lock. And he does open me up in so many ways. Unlocking me, my heart, and even my fears. When I am open, when I’m bare to him, I’m safe.

  He leans in, whispering his lips over mine. The heat of his breath, the sweetness of the almost kiss tugs at my heart. “Jag, I... I don’t know how to do this,” I confess with raw honesty. More than I’ve ever given him and it’s the truth. I don’t know how to love gently.

  “Do you want me, baby?” he questions on a smirk.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want it dirty?” His growl is enough to send me into orbit. Nodding, I bite my lip to keep from smiling, but he can see me. Under all my ink, piercings, and armor, he sees me. His hands grip my hips and, lifting me against his body, he sets me on the kitchen table.