Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(43)

“Oh yeah, keep telling yourself that,” I muttered.

The roar of a Harley interrupted the conversation and I realized Gwen would have questions. And maybe a semiautomatic weapon.

“Gwen,” was all I said.

“I’ll deal with my sister,” he declared.

“You’ll have more luck dealing with whatever war you’re fighting,” I replied. “She’ll either be pissed as hell or come in planning our wedding. I don’t really know how to explain to her that’s not going to happen.”

Ian got a weird look on his face. “Sit. I told you I’ll handle her.”

I frowned at his order but did as he said. We sat in uncomfortable silence to wait for Gwen to come in.

Ian was right, he did handle it. He handled it by distracting his sister with the news he was quitting the army. His little declaration had Gwen squealing and laughing after he told her.

I was a little more conflicted. I still loved Ian. I loved Gwen. Of course I was happy he was leaving a job which endangered his life every day but I was also angry. More like furious. He decided now he would leave the army? Not when I wanted him to, not when I pleaded with him to. Not when his sister had been recovering from a traumatic attack. But now. Now when I had started to move on. Started to recover from the wounds I had sustained with him. Now I had Brock. Or maybe I didn’t have Brock. Fuck, I didn’t even know if Brock wanted me. But I knew the situation was complicated enough without adding Ian to the mix. I wanted him back safe. I also didn’t. I wanted the geographical buffer that I had once cursed. I was a terrible person. I felt all the more terrible when Ian looked at me across the table with a heartbreakingly tender expression on his gruff face.

“Ames?” he said softly.

He expected me to jump for joy. To kiss him. I would have. Two years ago. Heck, even three months ago. Before Brock.

“Fuck you, Ian,” I spat, pushing out of my chair and storming into the house. I made it to my room when Ian grasped my arm.

“What was that, Amy?” he growled, whipping me around. “I expected a different reaction, babe.”

I glared at him. “What were you expecting? Me to scramble over the table and jump into your lap with joy?”

His face was impassive but a small spark of amusement danced in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have complained,” he replied.

I ripped my hand out of his grasp. “Why now?” I asked, the fight gone from my voice.

Ian stood close to me, penetrating my space and letting his large hands span my hips. “Because I realized what I want out of my life. I don’t want to die over in some sandbox. I also don’t want to continue living in one, devoting my life to it then coming back to nothing.” His eyes searched mine. “I want a life where I can see my sister more than once a year. I want to stop my mother from going grey with worry.” His grip tightened on my hips. “And I want a certain beautiful redhead to be mine. To sleep next to her every night. To wake up to her every morning. To laugh at all the funny shit she says. To slide inside her and forget everything else but the two of us exists. To marry her, to grow old with her.”

Holy shit. I stared at Ian, unable to believe he just said that.

“We were together for two weeks, you’ve been gone for a year and all of a sudden you’re expecting marriage and a white picket fence?” I said, shocked.

Ian stroked my face. “The amount of time we were together doesn’t mean shit. I’ve known you for years.”

I stepped out of his grasp. “You’ve known certain parts of me for years, Ian,” I shouted. “You’ve only been around long enough to see what you want to see, not everything I am. You’ve formed some ideal opinion of me based on things you’ve seen in a short amount of time.” I paced the room. “You don’t know the bad things about me.” I stopped, deciding to enlighten him.

“I don’t hold elevators for people—in fact I purposely close the doors when people run for them. It’s evil and mean but I hate sharing an enclosed space with strangers. I pretend not to notice people waiting at crossings when I’m in a hurry. Heck, I don’t even slow down. I’m lucky I haven’t hit anyone yet. I hate old people. They annoy me, and it irritates the f*ck out of me when they act like I should find them adorable. Same thing with kids. They’re dirty and loud and always seem to have sticky hands.” I stopped and stood in front of him.

“There’s plenty more where that came from. You can’t say all that stuff about marriage and forever when you haven’t even spent an entire weekend alone with me,” I declared.

Ian looked amused. “I know enough. All that other shit I find out along the way will just be a bonus.”

I let out a little scream. “You’re acting like we’re a forgone conclusion, like my protests are amusing to you and you’re just waiting for the little female to calm down and then she’ll be wowed by your sexy accent and impressive ass. You said the reason why you dumped me is because you didn’t want me stuck in one place waiting for you when that’s exactly what you’ve expected me to do!”

Ian started to look frustrated. “That’s not what I expect. I expect to spend a long time making it up to you. I expect that things aren’t going to go smoothly.” His eyes darkened. “But you are mine and you know it.”