Old wounds
1319 Words
Lena told herself she wasn’t avoiding Ryder.
She was simply keeping her distance.
There was a difference.
Avoiding meant she was scared.
Keeping her distance meant she was protecting herself.
At least, that was the story she repeated every time she found herself taking the long way around the repair shop just to avoid walking past his motorcycle.
Because that was the thing about Ryder Cole.
He had always been dangerous to her.
Not because he was a biker.
Not because of the club.
Not because people whispered about the Iron Wolves and the life they lived.
No.
Ryder was dangerous because he was the only person who had ever made her feel completely safe.
And losing him had taught her how painful it was to trust someone with your heart.
⸻
For the next few days, Lena settled into a routine.
She helped her grandmother at the shop.
She cleaned up old paperwork.
She sorted through boxes of forgotten memories.
She tried to rebuild a life in the place she once promised she would never return to.
But Black Hollow had a way of bringing the past back.
Especially when the past wore a leather vest and rode a black motorcycle.
“Your truck sounds awful.”
Lena looked up from the hood of her old pickup.
Ryder stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets.
She sighed.
“Hello to you too.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth.
“Hello.”
She went back to checking the engine.
“I don’t need you fixing my truck.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was.”
She looked at him.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That Ryder Cole confidence.”
His smile faded slightly.
“I’m not trying to be that guy anymore.”
The words caught her off guard.
Because once upon a time, she would have loved hearing him say that.
Now she didn’t know what to do with it.
She closed the hood.
“What do you want?”
Ryder took a breath.
“I wanted to talk.”
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“No?”
“No.”
“Lena—”
“No.”
She turned away.
“I’m not doing this every time you decide you’re ready.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
The answer surprised her.
She expected an argument.
An excuse.
Something.
Instead, he nodded.
“You’re right.”
That made her stop.
Because Ryder Cole had always been stubborn.
He never admitted when he was wrong.
Not easily.
Not even when he knew he was.
“You’re not going to fight me on that?”
“No.”
“Why?”
His eyes met hers.
“Because seven years ago, I thought I knew what was best for you.”
The pain in his voice was quiet.
“But I didn’t.”
Lena looked away.
She didn’t want to see regret in his eyes.
Regret made things harder.
Anger was easier.
“I hurt you,” he continued.
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“No, Ryder.”
Her voice cracked slightly.
“You don’t.”
His expression changed.
She stepped closer.
“You don’t know what it felt like.”
The words she had held inside for years finally came out.
“You don’t know what it felt like wondering if I wasn’t enough.”
Ryder’s face fell.
“Lena…”
“You made me feel like I wasn’t worth fighting for.”
Silence.
The kind that hurt.
Because deep down, she knew he didn’t have a defense.
And he knew it too.
“I’m sorry.”
Two words.
Two simple words.
But they carried seven years of pain.
She shook her head.
“Sorry doesn’t fix it.”
“I know.”
“Sorry doesn’t give me back those years.”
“I know.”
“Sorry doesn’t erase the fact that I needed you and you weren’t there.”
His eyes lowered.
“I know.”
The fact that he didn’t argue made the anger in her chest twist into something else.
Something painful.
Because she had spent years imagining this conversation.
She imagined him denying it.
She imagined him making excuses.
She imagined him being the villain.
But he wasn’t.
He was just a man who knew he had broken something precious.
And somehow, that hurt worse.
⸻
That evening, Ryder sat alone at the clubhouse.
The Iron Wolves clubhouse wasn’t what most people expected.
It wasn’t just a place filled with motorcycles and leather jackets.
It was a home.
There were pictures on the walls.
Old stories attached to every corner.
A kitchen where everyone gathered after long rides.
A place where men who had nowhere else to go found brothers.
Ryder stood near the bar, staring at an old photo.
Jax walked up beside him.
“You talked to her.”
Ryder nodded.
“How bad?”
Ryder gave a humorless laugh.
“Pretty bad.”
“Did she yell?”
“No.”
Jax frowned.
“That’s worse.”
“Yeah.”
Ryder looked down.
“She cried.”
The words were barely above a whisper.
Jax was quiet.
Because everyone knew Ryder could handle anger.
He could handle threats.
He could handle a fight.
But seeing Lena cry?
That was the one thing that could destroy him.
“You deserve her anger,” Jax said.
Ryder nodded.
“I know.”
“But?”
Ryder looked over.
“But I don’t want her forgiveness because I deserve it.”
Jax studied him.
“Then why do you want it?”
Ryder didn’t hesitate.
“Because she deserves to stop carrying the pain I gave her.”
For a moment, Jax didn’t say anything.
Then he nodded.
“That’s the first thing you’ve said in seven years that sounds like the man she fell in love with.”
Ryder looked away.
“I don’t know if that man is still there.”
Jax shrugged.
“Maybe he’s been there the whole time. Maybe he was just buried under all the guilt.”
⸻
The next morning, Lena found a small paper bag sitting on the counter at the repair shop.
She looked at her grandmother.
“What’s this?”
Her grandmother smiled.
“You know exactly what it is.”
Lena frowned.
Then she opened it.
Inside was a coffee.
The way she liked it.
Two sugars.
A little cream.
Her favorite order.
Her heart tightened.
There was a note attached.
She knew his handwriting before she even read it.
I know I can’t fix what happened.
I know I can’t ask you to forget.
But I want you to know I’m sorry.
Not because I want something from you.
Because you deserved better than what I gave you.
—Ryder
Lena stared at the note.
A part of her wanted to throw it away.
A part of her wanted to hate him.
But another part—the part she wished would disappear—remembered the boy who used to bring her coffee every morning just because he wanted to see her smile.
She folded the note carefully.
Then immediately hated herself for doing it.
Because forgiveness was dangerous.
And she wasn’t ready to give him that.
Not yet.
⸻
Across town, Ryder sat on his motorcycle outside the clubhouse.
He watched the sunrise.
Waiting.
Not for Lena to forgive him.
Not for her to come running back.
Just waiting for the chance to prove something.
Not with words.
Words had failed them once.
This time, he would have to show her.
Slowly.
Patiently.
One day at a time.
Because some things couldn’t be repaired overnight.
Especially a broken heart.
But Ryder Cole knew something about broken things.
If they were worth saving…
You didn’t give up on them.
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