Chapter Nineteen - What Love Leaves Behind
1217 Words
Colt hadn’t moved for a long time after she turned away.
The words she’d left him with sat deep in his chest—sharper than any blade, heavier than any blow.
Not because they hurt.
But because they were earned.
She had loved him.
Silently. Fiercely. For years.
And he’d met that love with silence, control, dominance.
Because he didn’t know how to receive something that pure without twisting it into something safer.
Less real. Less terrifying.
But now?
Now he knew the truth.
He had never once stopped loving her either.
Not since she first walked past him in high school with her head high, her books clutched to her chest, and that fire in her eyes that told the world she would not be broken.
He just didn’t know what to do with it.
So he pretended it wasn’t real.
He played at power.
He used other girls to prove to himself he didn’t need her.
But he did.
He still did.
And he wasn't going to let her go—not again.
Not now.
He found her the next morning in the garage.
She was helping Frankie fold jackets again, ponytail high, black nails chipped, her shirt tied at the waist. Sunlight caught on her skin like she was made of it.
He didn’t speak until she looked up.
And when she did, he didn’t give her space to steel herself.
He walked straight up to her and stopped.
“Avery.”
Her name sounded different in his voice now—lower, more certain.
She arched a brow, eyes cool. “What?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“I’ve loved you since high school.”
Silence.
A heartbeat.
Another.
Frankie froze mid-fold. Slowly backed away without a word.
Avery didn’t speak.
So he kept going.
“I didn’t say it then because I didn’t know what to do with it. You were good. You were real. And I didn’t think I deserved that kind of love.”
He stepped closer.
“I let you walk away because I thought it was the right thing. I thought letting you breathe meant I was doing right by you. But I see it now. All it meant was I didn’t fight for you.”
Her throat worked. Still, she didn’t speak.
“I don’t want someone else in my bed,” he said, quieter. “I don’t want someone else’s voice in my house. I don’t want someone else’s laugh at my table.”
Another step forward.
“I want you.”
Finally, Avery’s eyes dropped—just for a second—but he saw it.
She was listening.
“Not because I can claim you. Not because I can protect you. But because without you—this place, this life, me—none of it means anything.”
He stopped there.
Let it land.
And then he added the only thing he could.
“I love you, Avery. I just didn’t know how to love you right. But I can learn. If you let me.”
Avery exhaled slowly, her fingers curling around the hem of her shirt as Colt’s words settled around her like dust after a storm.
He looked at her like he’d stripped himself bare—no leather, no arrogance, no armor. Just the boy who once watched her from across a high school hallway and never figured out how to say what he felt.
And she saw it.
Not just the man he’d become, but the war inside him—the one Bear had built. The one Colt had fought every day since he took over.
This… what he just did? It had to have cost him more than most would ever understand.
And because of that—she spoke.
Softly. Carefully. Honestly.
“I know what it cost you to say all that.”
His jaw twitched, but he stayed quiet.
“You were raised to bury s**t like that. To show strength by hiding what you feel. Bear made sure of it.”
Colt didn’t move, but something flickered in his eyes—gratitude, maybe. Relief. Or maybe just the sting of being seen.
She stepped toward him.
Not closing the distance with desperation, but with purpose.
“And I know you’ve never said those words to anyone before. Not like that.”
He shook his head once. “Not even close.”
Avery gave a soft, almost broken smile.
“Well,” she whispered, “then I guess I should meet you halfway.”
She took another step, until they were chest to chest, her hands sliding up his arms.
“I still love you.”
His breath hitched. His entire body stilled.
She leaned in—just enough that her forehead brushed against his.
“But if we do this again,” she murmured, “you don’t get to hide anymore. Not from me.”
“I won’t,” he said, voice raw.
“No more girls trying to crawl into your lap the second I walk out of a room.”
“They won’t dare,” he promised.
“No more shutting me out when it’s easier than feeling something.”
He nodded. “Done.”
“And when I need space, when I pull away—it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means I need you to hold the line until I can come back.”
“I can do that,” he said.
Finally, her hands found the back of his neck, and she held him there—close and real and steady.
Then softly:
“You already know how to lead this club, Colt. Now it’s time to learn how to lead with your heart.”
And Colt—President of a violent, ruthless motorcycle club—closed his eyes and nodded like a man who’d finally been given the thing he never knew he could ask for.
Colt hadn’t moved.
Not when she stepped into him.
Not when she laid out her truth.
Not when she asked him to stop hiding from the love he claimed.
He stood there—solid, sure, and finally open.
And Avery?
She leaned in.
No hesitation.
No fire or fury.
Just warmth.
Her lips found his with a softness that surprised them both. It wasn’t a kiss meant to ignite. It was one meant to heal.
Her mouth moved against his with care, like she was promising to never use his vulnerability against him.
And Colt?
He melted into it, hands bracing her hips, his breath catching in the back of his throat.
It wasn’t the kind of kiss that screamed possession.
It was the kind that said:
“I see you.”
“I choose you.”
“I’m still here.”
When they finally broke apart, she didn’t pull back far.
She kept her forehead resting gently against his, her fingers still laced behind his neck.
“I’m not asking you to be perfect,” she whispered.
“I won’t be,” he said, rough but sure.
She smiled.
“I just need you to be real.”
“I can give you that,” he promised.
This time, not as a man trying to keep her in his world.
But as a man trying to build one with her.
- Writer
