Page 25 of Rider
“You okay?” I ask softly, resting a hand on the small of her back to steady her.
“Yes,” she says, though she shakes her head no.
I lift an eyebrow at her confusing answer.
“I-I mean, no, not really,” she tries again, though her head nods yes this time. “Sorry, I’m just…”
Sutton shrugs, and I pull her into my arms, holding her trembling body against mine. “Never apologize to me,” I whisper. “It’s all my fault. Everything. I should have said something. I should have told you about my past and the danger that comes with someone like me.”
“So tell me now,” Sutton says, stepping back from my embrace. A bitter chill runs through me at the loss, but then she holds her hand out for me to take.
I curl my massive hand around her delicate one and lead her inside. We walk through the living room, past the kitchen, and down the hall, only stopping when we get to the bedroom. Sutton looks up at me with a curious expression.
“Need to hold you,” I explain, my voice scratchy. Emotion clogs my throat, and I’d think I was about to cry if I didn't know any better.
Sutton nods and climbs into bed, scooting over and patting the space next to her. I yank my shirt off, grinning when her bright eyes widen and skim down my torso. My girl likes what she sees.
“Not fair,” she mumbles as I crawl in next to her and turn her to face me.
“I need to feel you,” I tell her truthfully. “And if the abs help distract, then all the better,” I joke.
Sutton rolls her eyes, then smiles so sweetly. God, I don’t deserve her. When the light in her eyes dims, I know she’s thinking about everything I put her through in the last twenty-four hours.
“I was pulled over on my way home to you,” I start.
Rolling over on my back, I open my arm, satisfied beyond belief when Sutton curls up on my chest and lets me hold her. My fingers find the hem of her shirt, and I trace the edge of the fabric before tickling my fingertips across her bare skin.
“Dirty cops in this town planted drugs on me and hauled me into jail. Thankfully, Axel and my brothers at Savage Saints figured out a way to leverage my release. I won’t be going away ever again.”
Sutton nods, her hand tracing the stubble across my jaw. She’s not looking me in the eye, seemingly fixated on where she’s touching me. I know what she’s going to ask before the words leave her lips.
“What about the last time you were in prison? Five years, was it?”
Teal eyes flick up to mine, and I hold her gaze as I confess everything to the only woman who matters to me.
“Yes. I was in prison for five years. Sheriff Darren, Tessa’s dad, fucked me over with assault charges and carrying illegal substances, both of which were false. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing Blade or any of the Savage Saints tried made a difference. The lawyer we hired got my sentence down from ten years to five, but… Well, anyway. I got out a few weeks before I met you.” I pause, letting this information sink in.
Sutton blinks a few times, her pulse pounding in the side of her neck. “You’ve only been out for a little over a month?”
I nod, hoping I didn’t just ruin my last chance with her.
“When I saw you sitting on the barstool at the clubhouse… I knew I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone touch you. Then I found you in your car, and things between us escalated so quickly. I had everything I ever wanted with you in my arms, and I couldn’t risk losing the best thing that ever happened to me and–”
“Breathe,” Sutton whispers, cupping the side of my cheek.
I turn and kiss her palm, soaking up as many of her gentle touches as she’ll give me. “All of my excuses burned into a pile of ash as soon as the cuffs slapped against my wrists,” I continue. “I’m so sorry for keeping this secret from you. I was terrified you wouldn’t trust me to take care of you if you knew I was a convicted felon. And then I fucked it all up by not telling you and causing you to lose trust in me anyway.”
“You deserve to be loved,” Sutton says, surprising the hell out of me. After everything I just told her, that’s her first reaction?
“You don’t know everything yet,” I tell her, unable to process her response. “While I was in prison, my ma… fuck, she got cancer. I wasn’t there for her. I failed her like I failed you, and I…”
“You deserve to be loved,” she says again, her soothing voice rolling over me. “Your mom getting sick wasn’t your fault, and neither was not being there. It was a horrible consequence of a broken, corrupt system.”
“Sutton, you can’t mean that.”
“I do,” she insists, pressing her lips to my temple in the sweetest gesture anyone has ever shown me. “From what you’ve said about your mom, I know she believed you were wrongfully convicted. I know she loved you and was proud of you. She would have wanted you to be happy and accept that you can be loved and forgiven.”
“But… what?”