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Cocky Biker(29)

By:Faleena Hopkins


He blinks at me, knowing that was hard for me to do. “Night, Sunshine.”

The nickname mushes my heart a little and I close my eyes and pull the blanket up. There’s a small light on in the bathroom. He said he wanted it left on in case I had to go. You’d think this guy had kids or something.

Wait…does he?

I have no idea.

I remember very well what he looks like naked. The image is hard to shove away as I look at him, lying there peacefully, eyes are closed and the blanket half off his gorgeous body. He’s sleeping in his jeans and t-shirt, socks stuffed in his boots to the side. Belt next to them.

“Jett?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you have kids?”

After a long pause, he says, “Not yet.”

Okay, I don’t like how relieved I am to hear that.

“Why are you so good at taking care of people then?”

He opens his eyes and looks me. In the dim light I watch his face soften as he tells me, “I have a good mother. And younger brothers who got into a lot of trouble growing up.”

“How many brothers?”

“Five. Four younger. One older. And he never needed anyone taking care of him.”

“You say that with pride.”

“Jaxson’s a good man. Keeps to himself. Loyal as fuck.”

“Who else?”

“Justin and Jason are right below me. Twins. Different though. Justin’s in politics and has the personality for it.” Off my look, he corrects me. “He’s a charmer, not a liar.” I smile, and he continues, “Jason’s a hopeless romantic. Produces crap music I can’t listen to. You’re free to mock that all you want. I do,” he chuckles to himself, staring at the ceiling. “Then there’s Jake. He’s in construction. Hell of a work ethic. I guess we all have that. Jake’s got the coloring of our mom — olive skin, brown eyes. Jeremy, too. He’s the youngest. He’s in Pakistan right now. Marines. Fuckin’ kid’s gonna be a bigger badass than I am. I’ll have to punch him out. Make sure he knows his older brother is still in charge.” He grins at me and looks so handsome that it’s scaring me. “This tat?” He points to his pectoral muscle through his shirt. “We all have one.”

I look down and start massaging my palm with my thumb to help my circulation, just as Jett taught me to do an hour ago. It was weird listening to him explain how I need to bend my knees often, and stretch out my ankles, too.

Here’s that question again.

Have you been here every night? Have you been bending my legs for me when I couldn’t?

Instead I whisper, “Wow. That’s a big family.”

He rolls onto his side and props himself up with a strong elbow. “Sunshine?”

From his voice I know he’s about to say something that’s going to be hard to hear, so I keep my eyes averted. “Hmmm?”

“I remember what you told me that night, about your mom. I’m real sorry ‘bout that.”

I nod and wait for more. When he remains quiet, I glance over. His eyes are heartbreaking because they’re so fucking patient.

“I’m over it,” I shrug, lying.

“No, you’re not. You’re probably never gonna be.”

“No I probably won’t.” I whisper. I don’t know why I confess this but it’s out of my mouth before I realize I’m opening up to him. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“About how she died?”

“About…any of it.”

He nods and lies back down. Probably to avoid scaring me off. He does that a lot, leaves or looks away just when I’m about to get freaked. It just feels like he gets it. Like he knows me better than I do.

His eyes are closed and his arms are above his head again, resting on both hands. One knee is bent and I glance over to see he’s wiggling his toes on the straight leg. The room is quiet for a long time while I drink him in and imagine him sleeping there, while I had no idea.

Was he really worried about me?

Is he here out of obligation?

Is it just because his friends are still in L.A.?

“Your friends don’t mind you not staying in the motel?” I quietly ask.

After a beat of silence, he licks his lips. “They took off.”

Shocked, I can’t help but blurt out, “WHAT?”

He glances to me. That’s the loudest I’ve said anything all day. I kinda shocked him.

“You stayed here on purpose?!”

He gets up and goes to stand by the door. He’s about to leave. I’ve seen him do it about ten times since I woke up this morning. But he stops and holds onto the wall, his back tense and his legs staggered in decision. From that stance, where I can’t see his face, he rumbles, “I have been here every night and every day.”