Chapter 3

Remy

The rest of my day is spent helping Tatum's sister-in-law and sister, Charity and Mandy, with a few things at the law office they run – mainly errands and making sure nobody fucks with them. Since I got patched in, that's been my go-to assignment from the club, and I'm good with it. I like being downtown, and those two are fun to be around. Their husbands, Drew and Dalton, are the closest in age to me within the club, so I don't feel completely nervous and awkward around them either.

"See you tonight?" I yell at the two of them as I lock up.

"We'll be there," Charity answers, before hopping into her SUV.

I watch as Mandy does the same from the back door of the office. Once they're gone, I do one more check, making sure nothing is out of the ordinary. It's been ingrained in me since there was some trouble when Mandy was pregnant. I'm thorough with my work; nobody is getting hurt on my shift.

Walking back out into the weather, I shiver as the air cools with the approaching cold front. The wind has picked up, and I groan as a raindrop hits my neck in between where my jacket and shirt sit. Reaching into my saddlebags, I take the leather jacket off, shrug on a hoodie and stick the material up over my head, before putting my helmet on. No matter what happens, at least I'm covered from head to toe. I put the leather jacket back on, zipping it up to my neck. The gloves are the last things to go on. Suited up, I hop on the bike and make my way toward the clubhouse, which for now, is where I stay most of the time. Like many of the other members of our club, I own some property and a small house, but with no one to share it with, I don't stay there often.

Ten minutes into my ride, I know without a doubt it's going to be a nasty night. The wind is stronger than it was downtown, and the temp feels much cooler than before. Even though I have layers on, I can feel the sting through them, and the road is getting tricky, especially being on two wheels. I wish I'd driven my truck today, but I hadn't looked at the forecast before I left.

As I come to the stoplight at the corner of Porter Pike and Louisville Road, I have to stop to accommodate traffic. Gazing up at the sky, I see it's gotten darker. The gray, washed out color from earlier is now darker and deeper. Sort of the kind of darkness we have in the summer when the sky's about to open up and the rain pours down. The light changes, and all I wanna do is get home.

What used to be a patch of gravel is now a parking lot at the clubhouse. And it's pretty damn full once I finally make it. Took me forty-five minutes, when it normally takes less than fifteen. I'm freezing, tired, and not really up to dealing with a bunch of people right now. That's neither here nor there, because tonight is Bianca's birthday, and if there's anyone who knows how to party – it's Jagger and B.

With a remote on my keyring, I open the garage, just as another car is coming up the drive. My heart pumps faster and my chest tightens as I see the sleek, black Tahoe that Tatum drives. Liam got it for her for Christmas, and I have to approve her having such a large vehicle. It should protect her if anything were to happen on the road. I drove it from the dealership here, the only kind of connection I've been allowed to have with her since our stubborn natures and smart mouths got in the way.

Instead of letting the garage door close and allowing her to ignore me the way she has been, I make a split-second decision. I'm not what most would call forceful on a good day, the extreme alpha gene passed me up. I grew up in a world where men used their fists on women, and I didn't want to be that guy. But fuck me if I don't want to hear her say my name again, even if it's to tell me to fuck off. My stride is purposeful and determined as I eat up the distance between us. The sleet coming down doesn't faze me in the least. It bounces off the leather of my jacket, sticks to the slight beard I have, and collects on the jersey hood of the zip up I wear underneath. None of that matters as the driver's side door to the Tahoe opens, and Tatum slips out. She's not dressed for this weather, at all, and I bite my tongue to keep my nagging to myself. Instead, I box her in before she can turn and tell me to hit the damn road, because for once she's going to listen to me. For once in this stand-off we're having, I'm going to make my voice heard. My body gets as close to her as I can without touching her, and I grab hold of the door, holding it open.

"What the hell?" she mumbles as she turns to face me.

Our breath is warm against each other's skin as we stare at one another. We haven't been this close since that night. "Two minutes, Tate."

"Don't call me that." Her dark eyes flash with irritation. "You don't get to have a nickname for me, not after how we left things."

"We left things really fuckin' shitty because you refuse to talk to me, babe."

"You don't get to call me babe, either." Her words are laced with annoyance, but I can see a flicker of interest in those eyes now.

Using the same mindset I use when I have to do things for the club, I step further into her space. Instead of boxing her in, I'm basically pinning her against the driver's seat. "You're gonna do one thing for the next two minutes and that's listen to me."

Her chin lifts defiantly. There's the girl I know, the woman who drives me nuts, the soul that arouses me beyond belief. Every part of her is a piece I care about, an almost-completed puzzle that's only missing one thing: me. Pressing further into her and asserting what little authority I have over her, I move one hand off the leather of her seat and let it fall to her chin. I wish it wasn't covered against the elements and I could feel her skin against mine, but beggars can't be choosers, and right now I'll take what I can get.

"Last year was bad." My dark eyes meet her blue ones, the truth shining between us. "Both of us were at fault."

She opens her mouth to argue, but I slap my hand over her arguments.

"You did things to piss me off, and I let you. I refused to see what you were trying to show me, and that's my fault." I swallow roughly – past the lump in my throat, past the emotion those eyes evoke in me. "I'll never forgive myself for letting you sleep with him."

"You didn't let me." She manages to get her mouth lose. "I wanted to."

I lift my eyebrow. "It's easier to lie to me than to yourself, Tate. I know you; your reactions are responses to actions. I'm willing to admit my actions weren't what either of us wanted. I should have manned the fuck up and let things progress naturally, but I had to try and control it. For that, I'm sorry. I put us both in a bad situation and ruined an awesome friendship in the process."

My words become progressively quieter as I spill my heart out to her. The body that had been tense against me isn't tense anymore. She's leaning fully against me, letting my muscle take her weight. It's a motion of trust, one I won't forget anytime soon. We're quiet as I let my words trail off, both shivering as the sleet beats down on top of us.

"This doesn't change anything." Her stubborn words break the silence.

"It might not right now, Tate, but it will. I'll show you."

She bites her bottom lip before her eyes jerk back up to mine. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have done what I did."

I breathe as the apology slips over her bee-stung, red lips. My chance is here, waiting for me to grab it. It's hard to admit right now might not be the time for me to reach out and take it. Looking at her, I can see it written all over her face.

"But it still doesn't change anything. Please let me go. Let me go into the clubhouse."

I let my forehead drop to her shoulder, sheltering her body in the warmth of mine for a few precious seconds. I let myself enjoy the closeness, inhale the scent of her, and commit to memory the way she feels against me. "Thanks for listening." I move back, allowing her to escape from the prison of my arms.

"Thanks for apologizing," she whispers before she runs across the gravel, her combat boots slapping against the rock. She's almost to the door when she turns back. "For the record, Remington Sawyer, that was way longer than two minutes."

Something about the way she busts my balls makes me smile. Gives me hope that we have a chance. Encourages me to go along with my plan, which I'll set into motion tomorrow morning.

Closing the door to her SUV, I put my hands in my pockets, hunching over against the wind as I run back to the garage. With a grin on my face that hasn't been there in a long time, I join the group in the clubhouse. For the first time in a year, I finally feel like I belong again.

All because Tatum Walker talked to me. Call me a pussy, tell me to hand over my man card, whatever you wanna do. Home is a person, a feeling, an emotion, and my home is her.