“It’s my name,” I mumble. “Drucilla.”
“Yikes,” Train says, wincing as he looks at me.
“Yeah. G shortened it to Drew, and it just kind of stuck. I prefer it—shocking I know.”
Train laughs. Against my better judgment, I give him a smile. Then, before I do something stupid—like kiss him—I move into the kitchen taking my red tea kettle and filling it with water. Unfortunately, it’s the only personal touch in here, too. It’s a bright red with green vines around the bottom. I don’t know why I like it. Blues are much more my color, honestly. Yet, when I look at it, it makes me happy.
“You want some hot chocolate?” I ask him, looking over my shoulder. He’s still standing in the living room but fills the open door into the kitchen. That’s just as well since the kitchen is so tiny that I can barely turn around in it. I imagine Train couldn’t.
“Are you putting whiskey in it?” he asks, an eyebrow quirked up with the question.
Damn it, how does a biker that’s a legitimate badass that looks scary and intimidating, manage to look cute and adorable at the same time? It should be against the law.
“Afraid I don’t drink, big guy. Although, I think G left a couple of beers in the fridge if you want one of those.”
“I’ll take one,” he says, and I get him one and give it to him. His fingers wrap around the cold can, over mine. He looks at me and my heart flip flops as his touch seems like it’s branding me.
“How long have you and Ghost known each other? In some of those pictures, you were definitely younger.”
“A long time,” I shrug.
“It’s weird, don’t you think?” he asks as I pull my hand away and go back to my kettle.
“What’s weird?” I ask, not turning around to look at him.
“That all this time Ghost hasn’t mentioned one word about you.”
“G is a private kind of guy.” I try to ignore how it makes me feel to know that G never mentioned me. It hurts far more than it should.
“You had to come into his life after Marcum and his old lady got together because he was too gone on her to be seeing you back then.”
“He did really care for Toi,” I admit.
“He told you about that? About the club?”
“Yeah. He’s even talked about you, although, mostly he said you were a stubborn asshole that didn’t know when to quit sometimes.”
I look at Train as I tell him that, and his lips twitch.
“Yeah. I need you to start being honest with me, Drew. When did you start dating Ghost?”
“I don’t see why that’s important.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe it’s not. Maybe I just need to know,” Train allows. When I don’t respond, he mutters something unintelligible under his breath. The room echoes with the sound of him opening his beer. “Do you love him?”
“I suddenly lost my appetite for hot chocolate,” I complain, turning off the burner. He backs away allowing me to walk out of the tiny kitchen, and toward the opposite side of the living room—which basically leads to my bedroom and a bathroom. There’s no utility room. I take my clothes across the street to the public laundromat.
“Answer me, Drew,” he says, and his tone sounds different.
“Yes, Train. I love him.”
“Does he love you?”
Now would be the time to come clean, but I don’t. If Train thinks he doesn’t have a shot, he’ll leave. He’ll be safe. Maybe he’ll even take G back to safety. Still, I hate lying to him. It burns in the pit of my stomach.
“You’ll have to ask him, Train,” I finally say, unable to utter another lie.
“I don’t need to,” he says.
“Why’s that?” I ask, surprised.
He walks over to the shelf and holds up the picture he had earlier.
“I can see it in his eyes,” he answers, and my throat threatens to close from emotion. “He loves you.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “He does.” I feel tears close to the surface, but I try to keep them at bay.
“In that case, you need to go into your room, get me a pillow and lock your door.”
I blink, pushing back the emotion I was feeling in that moment.
“Why?”
“Because until I figure out what is going on here and what kind of mess your pretty little ass is in, I’m sleeping on your couch. I also don’t trust myself not to climb in that bed with you, so you need to lock your door.”
“I doubt a locked door could keep you out, Train.”
“Maybe not, but it will slow me down enough for my brain to catch up with my dick. So, get me a pillow, baby, and lock the door.”
“There’s really no need, Train. I’m fine.”
“Baby, my brother is in the hospital unconscious. You got Mickey—who I assume is just a good guy looking out for you and not another lover…”