“That’s none of your business.” I hold my breath. I want it to be her business. I want everything to be her fucking business. But it can’t.

“Well, you left me there in their parking lot. I hope it was for something important.” She purses her lips. “Wait. These guys aren’t the same ones that had trouble with Vincent, right?”

“No,” I say vehemently. “This club is a mixture of guys with a heavy veteran contingent. Some men discharge and just can’t reacclimate into society. They do better under a different set of laws. The brotherhood is something men understand after leaving war.” I wonder if it would have been better for me, too. Meeting Vincent derailed that potential though.

“Well, I guess you’re right that it’s not my problem. I mean, I’m leaving in a little more than a week. And it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.” She says this to the window.

I want to move her face around, so I can get a better read, but she doesn’t face me.

Panic fills my chest at the thought of her leaving. Nine days left. Has it only been five days that we’ve been together? It feels like so much more.

The baggy in my front pocket is heavy as a brick.

It isn’t me. But it is me. Who am I?

I take her palm in mine, and finally, she turns back, brown eyes wide in surprise at the fact that I’m holding her hand. Now that I’ve got her, I’m going to keep her near me.

Mine, my head, heart, and dick all pound in unison.

She just satisfies me in a way I’ve never had before. It’s great sex, but it’s also more than that. She’s funny and sweet, and she somehow brings me peace. I won’t fuck this up. I’ll do whatever I have to—drugs, drinking, anything—to keep her while I can.

“You hungry?” My voice is slightly hesitant.

Kissing her knuckles, I silently vow to keep her close to me. That’s when I notice leftover would-be tears sitting on her lower lash line. She must have swallowed them, not wanting me to see. They shine like diamonds in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. Lauren, I’m sorry I brought you there. I shouldn’t have.”

“You aren’t sorry.” She turns back to the window, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I am. I swear, I am. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Leaning over, I take her hand again. “You feel me? I don’t hold hands.” I pull the car over to the side of the road and unbuckle my belt. “Look at me, Lauren.”

She does.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been good to you the way you deserve. I won’t fuck up again, okay?”

“I wish you’d stop doing and saying things you don’t mean.”

I lift the ends of her hair, soft and like painted gold. “I know.”

She doesn’t reply, but her hand tightly squeezes mine.

“There’s a small Italian place nearby that we can go to.”