Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 64

Wren

"Hannah is Gwen's daughter," Ezra continues, voice hoarse. "Pete doesn't know, and neither does Mitch."

Then, he knocks back the seventh glass of whiskey, eyes red-rimmed, and jaw tight enough to hurt.

"Mitch wants me dead, Wren. And he won't stop," he concludes, pouring another glass.

No one speaks again.

The only sound is the slushing of whiskey, and the hard thump of my heart in my chest.

Tears roll down my cheeks, chest squeezing. "Ezra..."

He looks away from me, knuckles white against the glass.

God, this man.

This man was hurt, this man was broken by a supposed family.

I stare helplessly at him, watching the tension in his muscles through blurry vision.

The images that form in my mind are gruesome, horrible. I picture Ezra on that floor, I picture Mitch ruining his legs...god.

"I believe you," I blurt, sniffling.

He stiffens, slowly turning to me.

I'm on my feet immediately, standing in front of him as I cup his jaw. His eyes swim with so much guilt, so much pain.

"It w-was an accident," I cry. "I know it was. You didn't deserve that, god, baby..."

He wipes my tears with shaky fingers, a sad smile on his face. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Not for me."

"How could he do that to you, Ezra? How c-could—"

His forehead rests on mine, and I'm pulled into his arms. I hug him, clutching his shirt like he'd disappear.

And I sob.

The tears I tried and failed to hold back, spill from my eyes in more waves, my shoulders racking violently.

And when I feel a small wet splash on my neck, it breaks me completely. Absolutely wrecks me.

We hold each other tight. I don't know who needs comfort more, me or him? Or both?

When I pull away, staring into his eyes filled with tears, my lungs squeeze.

"It wasn't your fault." My voice is thick with emotion. "It wasn't your fault, Ezra. It was an accident—"

"If I had watched where I was going—"

I shake my head, cutting him off. "Listen to me," I manage to sound firm. "It was an accident. You tried to warn him of his speed, you loved him, baby."

"I did," he rasps, body trembling beneath my palms.

"You didn't hurt him on purpose, Ezra. It wasn't your fault, do you hear me?"

He doesn't reply.

I've never seen him so helpless, so broken. This man that has always portrayed himself to be invincible, untouchable...this man that I've drawn strength from time and time again.

To see him this way...it hurts.

Rising on my tiptoes, I kiss him. His lips part but he doesn't respond.

I don't stop though, I convey every emotion, every thought, every word I want to say into that kiss.

And when the salty tang of tears hits my tongue, I have to wonder...

Is it my tears...or his?

My eyes flutter open, fixing on Ezra who's still sleeping. Even in his sleep, he looks haunted. Brows furrowed, a deep frown on his lips.

I shuffle closer, stroking the soft lines on his forehead as I just stare at him.

His lashes are long, brows perfectly arched with a pointed nose that looks like it's been broken a couple times.

Then his lips— soft, pink lips that... A blush coats my body when I think of all the places on my body those lips have been.

Slowly, his eyes open and I'm blown away. The way he looks at me, it's soft...the softest he's ever stared at me.

"Hey," I murmur.

He shifts closer, settling himself between my thighs and resting his head on my chest. His weight is welcome, it grounds me.

I brush his hair, sinking my fingers into his scalp.

He breathes. "You're taking this pretty well."

After the conversation in the dining room, I had led him to my bedroom, but he'd shaken his head, leading us into his instead.

"You were not at fault, love," I remind him. "How're you feeling?"

"I..." he sighs, staring up at me. "Relieved actually. I'm glad I could tell you."

I kiss his forehead, a small smile on my face. "Does my brother know?"

"Not the details, but yes. After all, you all saw me walking with a limp."

He's right. When he came to the clubhouse—at the time, Ray wasn't the president—his limp was horrible.

"How long ago from that incident did you come in?"

"A year," he replies. " A year after that, I met your brother and he brought me into the clubhouse."

My nails graze his shirtless back.

"You mentioned the pit...is it the—"

"Oh no no." He shakes his head. "The pit is just a general term used by us bikers. This occurred in a different town, like I said earlier."

"Okay, I get it."

We go quiet again, lost in our thoughts. The moment is oddly intimate, the quietness of the night calms me.

One glance at the clock shows it's nearly 1a.m. But none of us would be able to sleep, not after the brief nap we just had.

The dreaded question burns at the back of my mind, unable to force its way past my lips.

"Birdie?" His breath ghosts my face as he stares up at me.

"Hm?"

"Why did you suddenly start hating me?"

I stiffen, the question throwing me off guard. "What?"

"We used to be friends —at least I think so—and then a few months before you left for Seattle, you just...changed," he says. "You became hostile, easily riled up like I irritated you."

Heat floods my body as the memories of that exact day force through my mind, a blush staining my cheeks.

"Ugh, seriously?" I whine, pouting.

"Yes."

He rolls off me, taking me with him and setting me on his body, my legs straddling him.

When he stares up at me from this position, I can't help the nervous giggle that rips from my throat. I tuck my hair behind my ears, averting my gaze.

"Come on," he urges. "Tell me, please. I've been wondering about it."

I bite my lip, twisting my fingers. "Don't make me say it, pleaaase. It's embarrassing."

Light shines in his eyes, humour dancing in them. It makes me smile genuinely, the haunted look in his gaze is gone, and he's back to being playful.

"Now, I'm even more curious."

I groan, exaggeratedly of course. "Fine. I overhead you and Brittany."

His brow scrunches. "Me and...Brittany?"

"Yup. That was the night Ray made you VP. We were all celebrating, and then you and Brit had disappeared..."

He squints. "I think I remember that day. Go on."

I sigh, eyes fixed on my fingers as I trace his nipples. "I saw you guys kissing, and it didn't look like it was the first time."

"Oh."