Long Way Home (Thunder Road #3)(71)

“Yeah. There’s a lot of that going around.” I pull down the covers and wonder how much he’s willing to forgive me and how badly he wants to know all the truth. “Stay with me? If only for a bit.”

I’ll take whatever he’s willing to give—at least for now—even if he’s only willing to give me memories. Memories are golden and on cold lonely nights, sometimes if I try to remember hard enough, they almost make me warm.

Chevy undoes his shoes, I turn off the lamp on my bedside table, then slip under the blanket. Chevy settles in facing me. His legs and chest are touching mine and the sweet, sweet memory of the last time he was in this bed with me heats my blood.

The day had been humid, we had been out in my field and the rain had caught us by surprise. He had taken off his shirt because it was drenched, and I took off mine because I loved the way he became hypnotized by me anytime we were alone in a room.

He was mine. Physically, emotionally, spiritually and I loved feeling needed, desired and like I belonged.

Chevy places a hand on my waist and I’m not sure if it’s for comfort or from habit. Either way, I snuggle deeper into the pillows and into him, hoping what I’m about to do isn’t a mistake. The venetian blinds are closed, but moonlight still filters in through the slats. He’s beautiful. Oh so beautiful and he’s about to become very, very angry.

Having no idea of the extremes the Riot have gone to eavesdrop on me, I’m afraid to talk in a normal tone. But Chevy needs to know and in this bed with the covers nearly over my head is the safest place I can think of. Walls between us and the world. Him tucked close to me. Me tucked close to him. Us speaking so quietly that we can barely hear each other.

“I’m being watched by the Riot,” I whisper. “Here at home, at the clubhouse, in Cyrus’s house. Justin told me it’s been going on since before the kidnapping. I didn’t know it was happening. I’m not safe. I’m terrified to be talking to you about it now. Scared of how much they know, what they see, what they hear.”

A cold chill runs up my spine, and I shiver. Chevy runs his hand along my arm and his warmth is welcome. “Why are they watching you?”

“If I tell you, you can’t tell Eli or the club.”

His body quakes with anger. I suck in a breath to still the fear that’s causing my heart to go faster.

“Is that what this is all about? Is that why they let us go? Did you make a deal with Justin to betray the Terror in order to set us free?”

I don’t get self-righteous. There’s no point. I would do anything to protect Brandon and my mom. I’d do close to anything to protect Chevy. “I’ll explain everything as long as you give me your word that what I say stays safe with you. No one else can know.”

Chevy’s eyes wander over my face. I know him. He’s thinking, he’s weighing, he’s hoping I’ll change my mind. “We need to involve the club. If the Riot are watching you, then you need to be protected.”

“I can’t involve the Terror. If the Riot finds out I’m not doing what they want, that’s when I’ll be in danger.”

His grip on me tightens. “So you are working with them.”

I am, but not how he’s thinking and I can’t explain until he gives me his word.

His expression hardens as he reads my silence like a prison sentence. “If you’re working with the Riot, I have to tell. I can’t let you betray the club. They’re our family. My family.”

“Is that what I am? A traitor? When you protect your family, it’s called being an upstanding member of the club, but when I do it, I’m a traitor?”

“Yes, if what you’re doing hurts the people I love.”

My head pitches back in anger. “Do you think I’m capable of that? Do you think I’m capable of hurting the people you love? That I love?”

The buzzing that Chevy used to quiet returns and it grows louder with each second he remains silent. As if we hadn’t been kidnapped and survived together, as if we haven’t held each other night after night, as if last night meant nothing. I place my hands on his chest and try to push him away. Try to ignore my breaking heart.

“Get out. Run off—tell Cyrus I’m being watched and you don’t know why. And before you try going all self-righteous on me, I heard. I heard you tell Cyrus you would sell me out the moment I trusted you with anything. So go. Tell him you think I’m betraying the club. Tell him whatever you want. He can grill me, the club can grill me and I won’t say a thing. Go, Chevy. Go on and finally make your choice to be their lapdog.”

I go to roll out of bed, but Chevy snags my wrist. “Stop making me choose between you and them.”

“How about you stop behaving like there are no choices to make? I walked away from you months ago because you aren’t capable of choosing. Guess what? I’m very capable of choosing. I know what I want out of life and it’s not the Terror and it’s not Snowflake. I’ve applied to twenty different colleges. What about you? Have you applied to any? Have you even thought about what you’re going to do after high school? After football season is over?”

His blank expression answers every question. “You’re talking in circles. None of this has anything to do with us or with what the hell is going on.”

“No, it has everything to do with you. You’re terrified to choose and because of that you’ll never be happy.”