Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2)(41)

“So let me be clear,” he stated in his important, listen-to-this summation voice. “I took a look at my finances. There’s not much I can cut back on, unless we move in together, in order that I can save faster to buy you the ring I want you to have.”

I want you to have.

“Though, I do think we should move in together,” he continued. “It’s time. It’s time for us to make that commitment. It’ll be a crunch, both of us in your place, but your rent is cheaper than mine, it’ll help me get closer to buying your ring, and we won’t be there forever. Just a few years. And I promise, Hellen, I’ll be a better partner.”

He stretched his arm across the table, pulled my cup from my fingers and held my hand.

“Also, baby, I promise it’s leading to something.” He gave me his big, white smile. “You’ll get what you want. I’ll pop the question when I can do it right. Then you’ll get that future you want. We. We’ll get the future we want. You just have to stick with me. Three, four more years, I’ll be out from under the brunt of the debt, and we can move on.”

When it seemed he was finished talking, I said, “You want.”

“Sorry?”

“You want,” I reiterated. “You’re talking about the future you want. I’ve shared with you the future I want. I’ve shared with you about my business and where I want it to go. I don’t have very many plans after that because it’s my main focus in the now. So, if you listened, you’d know what I want for my immediate future. But I’ve never mentioned any of the things you’re talking about. So I honestly don’t wish to sound awful, but I have to point out, you’re talking about the future you want.”

Gently, I pulled my hand from his.

Bryan frowned.

“And since we’re here, you need to know, I don’t want to get married, Bryan.”

His expression cleared and he nodded swiftly. “Okay, agreed. It’s time we talk about the recycling.”

And…

Damn.

He’d led with the marriage thing because that was what he thought I was angling for. That was what he’d convinced himself I was doing. He thought I was pitching a fit because he wasn’t committing.

Honestly?

I didn’t blame him.

For centuries, men and women had been conditioned to think that was what was in the cards for both of them. It was what they were supposed to strive for. The white dress and the cake were supposed to be the woman’s overarching dream.

Then, he was supposed to strive and build and venture and earn and rise.

But she didn’t get to dream beyond that day of flowers and dancing.

Her role was to take care of everything, including the children they made together, so he could build and earn and rise.

Sure, she could have her job or her career. But she still needed to take care of everything so he could build and earn and rise. In most cases, he got paid more. To him, that made sense. To some, it made sense to her as well.

If something came around, say a once-in-a-century pandemic, and shit got real and kids needed to be taken care of because they couldn’t go to school, her job or career was lost.

So he could continue to rise.

This was because she wasn’t conditioned to dream that what came next was her choice. That what came next for her was a priority. That she could compete. That she could expect to get paid as much as him, or more if it was merited.

She wasn’t conditioned to dream of rising.

She wasn’t conditioned to dream of anything.

Anything except that white dress.

And now that I had Bryan over a barrel in his mind, and apparently (according to him), we were negotiating the entirety of our future, he was willing to talk about the little things that meant something to me.

Like recycling.

Not my career.

Not the future I truly wanted.

“I care about you,” I said.

He smiled again.

“But this is not a play for a proposal. This is not about the recycling. This is…it’s…”

I got opposable thumbs. When I’m ready for a beer, I can get my own.

“It’s?” Bryan prompted.

I shook thoughts of Core off.

“It’s…”

You’re gonna tell me what a dick I am, I’m gonna admit I was a dick, because I was serious pissed, but I recognize I went over the top.

“Hellen?”

I’m gonna admit I was a dick, because I was serious pissed, but I recognize I went over the top.

I’m gonna admit I was a dick.

I looked down to my lap.

“Hey, hey,” Bryan called. “Baby, look at me.”

I lifted my gaze to Bryan.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’m not in love with you.”

He sat back like he’d been shot.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

“You were with me for a year,” he said, voice small, wounded.

“I cared about you a lot. I thought I—”

He cut me off before I could finish. “You thought what?”

I watched him closely because I wasn’t real thrilled with the sudden shift of his mood.

“You thought what, Hellen?” he pushed.

When I didn’t immediately reply, he did it for me.