The Biker's Rules
I continue, voice steadier now, “that I want a love that engulfs me. With someone real. Someone who understands my soul.”
He goes rigid. Oh, he’ll probably blow a gasket if he knew whose words I’m quoting.
“And you’re not that person.”
The words land hard. He exhales like he’s been punched straight through the ribs.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I really am. I wish people could choose who they fall in love with.” God, I really do. “But you can’t.”
Silence stretches.
“So,” he says finally, voice rough, “does that mean you’re in love with someone else?”