Outside the Lines (Sons of Templar MC #2.5)(33)

I scuttled back onto the sidewalk. “Why not?” I half yelled. “That’s what I was. What I always will be. It’s never going to change. You think ‘cause I’ve been with everyone in the club, I’ll let any man who buys me an expensive latte have a piece of me?”

Hansen stalked forward. “Jesus, Macy, calm down. That’s not what I f*ckin’ said,” he thundered, his face tight.

I threw my hands out, not caring we were having this out in the middle of the street. “It’s what you were thinking. I was a fool to think I could do this, be with you, transition into an Old Lady when you saw me as a club whore,” I spat, my chest heaving.

I didn’t know where this was coming from, this anger. I knew it was that little seed I’d nurtured through the start of our relationship, maturing, growing too big to hide anymore or to run from. I was already running from the events of a month ago. It had all finally caught me.

Hansen’s face turned thunderous and he stepped forward again, clutching my hips tightly.

“I’ve never thought of you like that. Not once. ‘Cause you never f*ckin’ were. You’re special. Not one in a million, once in a lifetime. You are more than any label can describe, especially that f*ckin’ ugly one you keep spewing out,” he half growled, though his eyes were soft. “You’re a woman who’s stronger than any man I’ve met. Whose smile lights up a room. You can make the hardest men I know laugh just by babbling some bullshit about fairies and wizards. Just by being you. You. Macy… my Old Lady. That’s the only label you have, the only one I care about,” he told me firmly, holding my eyes hostage.

Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t hold it together any longer. Everything I’d been burying inside bubbled out through my tear ducts, my body starting to shake with my sobs.

Hansen wiped them away, all trace of anger gone from his beautiful face. “Shit,” he muttered. His hand cupped my jaw. “Look at me,” he commanded.

I met his piercing blue eyes, my vision slightly blurry.

“You’re gonna get on the back of my bike where you belong. Where you’ll always belong, then we’ll go home,” he declared firmly.

“Ca-can we watch Lord of the Rings?” I hiccupped, needing my fantasy world now more than ever.

Hansen shook his head, a shadow of a smile on his face. “Yeah babe,” he kissed my nose. “On the bike,” he whispered.

I looked at him a moment, then moved to sit on the back of his beautiful Harley, where I belonged.





“You loved it, admit it,” I said, once the credits on Fellowship of The Ring started rolling.

Hansen moved me so I was completely on top of him on the sofa.

“Love that it put a smile on my girl’s beautiful face. Put the light back in her eyes. Would watch that every day for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes,” he told me, his eyes intent on me. “Want to talk about it, babe? What that shit was before?”

I looked down, my hands fiddling with the fabric on his tee. I didn’t know if I did want to talk about what made me effectively have a breakdown in the middle of the street, but I knew I needed to. Otherwise, all that crap would fester, come back up again, and poison me with its negativity. I’d been bottling it up for a month, over a month, ever since Hammer’s words hit home that night at the club.

Hansen’s hand went to my chin. “Look at me, baby,” he said softly.

I swallowed, looking into his eyes. “I’m just waiting for it to happen,” I whispered softly.

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“Something… something awful. Something that shatters all of this,” I explained my worst fear. “I’ve never been happier in my life when I’m with you. On the bike, off your bike,” I said, and his arms tightened around me. “I’m not used to loving someone this much. To having everything I’ve always dreamed of. He came and took it away when he ended my parents’ lives. Then he came back, and I’m still haunted by him. Still terrified one day you’re going to realize you don’t want to share your life with a reformed club girl and murderer,” I said in a small voice. “I can live with my title as former club girl. I don’t regret it, not for a second. It gave me family, gave me you. The murderer one? Not so much.”

Hansen flipped us, in one fluid movement, and he was quickly on top of me. “Lot a shit wrong with what you just said, baby,” he started in a hard tone. “Lot that makes my f*ckin’ heart break, knowing that it’s been stewing in that beautiful head of yours for a long time,” he stroked my head. “Knew that shit a month ago would haunt you. Your soul is good, down to the core, not an ounce of black in it.” He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “You’re not a f*ckin’ murderer. You’re a survivor, a f*ckin’ miracle, one I thank God or whoever’s controlling the strings up there for,” he said firmly. “Your past with the club? It’s never gonna get to me, babe. Get that through your head. I love you. Every inch of you. I’ll never resent you, or think of you differently ‘cause you were a club girl.” He stroked my face. “‘Cause if you weren’t, I’d never would’ve met you. Something that doesn’t even bear thinking of… a life without you in it. I’ll love you till the moment the reaper claims me, even after that, too. I plan on planting a baby in you, making a family with you, forever,” he declared. “I’ll do whatever it takes, remind you every day of what a f*ckin’ magnificent creature you are, to make sure you don’t ever think ugly thoughts about yourself again.”