Lane: An MC Romance (Black Reapers MC Book 1) by Trent Jordan

Author:Trent Jordan [Jordan, Trent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TJ Creations
Published: 2020-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

Lane

My shoulder hurt like a motherfucker the next day.

When I’d gotten shot, it felt like a hot sting. In the aftermath, after our medical team had taken care of the wound and I’d gone to the bar, it felt more like an onsetting sore ache, the kind of thing that was gradually building but wouldn’t be that bad. But now, when I woke up in my bed the next morning?

It felt like someone had twisted my shoulder out of place. Literally, any moment that didn’t involve my shoulder hanging limply by my arm hurt like hell. I knew that it was going to make being at the shop and doing anything else a real pain in the ass.

I won’t let it affect me, though. I will be strong. I will show up, and I will discuss with the officers what happened. I will speak with certainty.

Unlike with Angela...

Now there was something that had confused me. Up to the point where I had hugged her, for the most part, I was just unloading everything about Cole on to her. That conversation was much less about Angela being there and much more about me needing to express the truth, that I’d been so afraid to confront Cole. It was all true, everything I had said last night... unlike many of the thoughts in my head.

And even with that awareness, I still couldn’t bring myself to forgive Cole. To admit such a thing would shift all of the burden on my soul, and that was a weight I did not think I could handle at the moment. If I ever saw Cole, I didn’t know what would happen.

I supposed that was an upgrade over before when I was sure I’d probably kill him. But still, not being sure of what would happen didn’t preclude an actual fight from happening.

But as soon as I had hugged Angela, something different switched. It was the first time I’d had a hug like that since Shannon’s funeral.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d had sex since then, but it had always felt like a very shallow endeavor. It was almost like going through the motions—I was President of the club, I’d say a few nice things about the girl, I’d take her back, we’d fuck, and then she’d leave. It was all an emotionless endeavor, in large part, because I didn’t have any emotions to give.

And yet, that hug was more intimate than any sex I’d had in the past year. So when I pulled back and looked into her eyes, the intensity of my gaze was as much a thank you to someone for being willing to be close to me and let me unload my emotions as it was anything flirtatious or, perhaps, romantic.

Maybe it was a little fucked up to feel so close to the woman who had initially threatened to get me behind bars. But pictures of people could change, and her understanding of me and my understanding of her had morphed. I... I felt very close to her.

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