Piston (Iron Reapers MC #2)

Chapter 11

ELEVEN

JENNY

Something's gotta give. It's been 7 days of this shit with Piston and I'm about ready to slap the stubborn right off his face.

I juggle the tray of food, water pitcher, and meds as I barge into his room. He's glaring out the window, not even glancing my way. Figures.

"Mornin', sunshine," I say, all fake sweetness. "Got your breakfast of champs here."

I set the tray down on the nightstand with a clatter. He doesn't flinch. Just keeps staring off like I'm not even here. The anger simmers in my gut.

I cross my arms. "You gonna eat today or keep being a mopey piece of shit?"

Nothing. No reaction. I let out a huff, trying to keep my cool.

"Look, you need to get your strength back. The doc says-"

"I don't give a shit what the doc says," Piston growls, finally eyeing me. "I didn't ask for your help and I sure as hell don't need your pity."

I laugh, sharp and humorless. "You think this is pity? No, honey, this is me busting my ass to keep your ungrateful hide alive out of some misguided sense of loyalty. But I'm starting to question why I even bother."

He snorts. "Then don't. Ain't nobody forcing you to be here."

"You're right," I snap, snatching the untouched tray. "Excuse me for giving a damn." I stomp out, slamming the door behind me.

In the kitchen, I lean against the counter, fuming. This routine is getting real old, real fast. Each day I drag myself over here, hoping he'll come to his senses. But it's like talking to a brick freaking wall.

I glance at the clock. Better get to school before I'm late. At least there my efforts are appreciated. Unlike here, with Sir Broods-a-lot.

Screw it. He wants to wallow, that's his choice. But I'm done beating my head against his immovable attitude. There's only so much disrespect a girl can take.

I gather my purse and keys, sparing one last glance at his closed door. A pang of guilt pricks at me but I push it down. I've more than tried.

It's time Piston learned the world doesn't revolve around him and his self-pity. I've got my own life to live.

I walk out without a backwards glance, slamming the front door extra hard, just because I can. Message sent, loud and clear.

A loud knock jolts me out of my stewing thoughts. I yank open the door to find Mason and Carlie, arms loaded with grocery bags.

"Thank God, reinforcements." I usher them inside. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Carlie sets her bags on the counter and pulls me into a hug. "How you holding up, honey?"

I slump against her. "Barely. He's being impossible."

Mason's jaw tightens as he glances towards the bedroom. "We figured. That's why we're here."

"I appreciate you both coming." I start unpacking the groceries. "But I'm not sure it'll make a difference."

"We'll see about that." Mason's voice is low and determined. He strides purposefully towards Piston's room.

Carlie shoots me a worried look. "Maybe we should--"

The bedroom door slams, cutting her off. She flinches at the sound.

I sigh heavily. "Let him try. Lord knows I have."

We work in tense silence, putting away the groceries as raised voices filter through the walls. I can't make out the words, but there's no mistaking the fury in Mason's tone.

Carlie keeps glancing nervously at the closed door. "You think we should..."

I shake my head. "Best not to get in the middle. Mason can handle himself."

Something shatters in the other room, making us both jump. Carlie's eyes widen in alarm.

"I'm sure it's fine," I assure her, even as unease prickles under my skin.

The argument reaches a crescendo, then abruptly cuts off. I hold my breath, straining to hear something, anything.

Long moments tick by in suffocating stillness. Carlie grips the counter, knuckles white. My heart hammers against my ribs.

Then the bedroom door flies open, bouncing off the wall. Mason storms out, face like thunder.

"We're leaving," he growls at Carlie. His gaze cuts to me. "You should too. He ain't worth this."

With that, he's gone, leaving a shell-shocked Carlie in his wake. She looks at me helplessly.

I squeeze her arm. "Go. I'll be okay."

She hesitates, then nods. "Call me later?"

"Promise." I walk her to the door, feeling like I'm in a daze.

As it closes behind her, I lean my forehead against the wood, eyes squeezed shut. Mason's words echo in my head.

He's right. I know he is. But walking away feels like admitting defeat. Like I'm abandoning Piston when he needs me most.

Even if he refuses to admit it.

I take a shuddering breath, pulling myself together. I can't keep doing this. It's tearing me apart, piece by piece.

I'm stuffing clothes into my duffel bag when I hear a sharp intake of breath behind me. I freeze, heart pounding. Slowly, I turn around.

Piston leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest. His eyes narrow as he takes in the scene before him.

"Going somewhere?" His voice is low, dangerous.

I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze head-on. "I was, yeah."

"Without saying goodbye?" There's an accusatory edge to his words, but beneath it, I catch a flicker of vulnerability.

I scoff, zipping up my bag with more force than necessary. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I owed you anything after the way you've treated me this past week."

Piston has the decency to look slightly abashed, but he quickly covers it with a smirk. "Aw, come on, Jenny. You know I didn't mean it."

"Do I?" I snap, anger bubbling up inside me. "Because from where I'm standing, it sure as hell seemed like you meant every word."

He pushes off the doorframe, taking a step towards me. I instinctively take a step back, my legs bumping against the bed.

"Look, I know I've been a dick," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "But I'm trying here, okay?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Trying? Is that what you call ignoring me and pushing me away?"

Piston sighs, his shoulders slumping. "I'm not good at this, Jenny. At letting people in."

"So, what? You thought it'd be easier to just shut me out completely?" I shake my head, disappointment and hurt warring within me.

"No, I..." He trails off, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. "I thought I was protecting you."

I blink, taken aback. "Protecting me? From what?"

"From me." His voice is barely above a whisper, his eyes downcast. "From the mess that is my life."

I soften slightly, understanding dawning. "Piston..."

"I didn't want you to get caught up in all this," he continues, gesturing vaguely to his bruised and battered body. "In the dangers that come with being a part of my world."

I step forward, closing the distance between us. "That's not your decision to make."

His gaze snaps up to meet mine, surprise etched across his features.

"I'm a big girl, Piston. I can handle myself." I reach out, placing a tentative hand on his arm. "But I can't do this hot and cold act anymore."

He nods, his expression serious. "I know. And I'm sorry."

"I don't need your apologies," I tell him, my voice firm but gentle. "I need you to let me in. To trust me."

Piston's quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Finally, he nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I do trust you, Jenny. More than I've trusted anyone in a long time."

I can't help but return his smile, a flicker of hope igniting in my chest. "Then prove it. No more shutting me out, no more pushing me away."

He takes my hand, his calloused fingers intertwine with mine. "I can't promise it'll be easy. I'm not used to letting people get close."

"I'm not asking for easy," I reassure him, squeezing his hand. "I'm asking for a chance."

Piston's smile widens, and for the first time since I've met him, it reaches his eyes. "A chance, huh? I think I can manage that."

I lean in, resting my forehead against his. "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

We stand like that for a moment, the tension of the past week slowly dissipating. It's not a magic fix, I know that. But it's a start.

As I pull back, I catch a glimpse of the duffle bag sitting by the door, a reminder of how close I'd come to walking away. I'm glad I didn't.

"Come on," I say, tugging Piston towards the couch. "Let's get you off that leg. You're supposed to be resting."

He chuckles, allowing me to guide him. "Yes, ma'am."

As we settle onto the couch, Piston's arm finding its way around my shoulders, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, we'll be alright.

It won't be a smooth road, I'm sure of that. But for the first time in a long time, I'm ready for the ride.

Piston's smirk falters, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he takes a step closer. "I've been a real ass, haven't I?"

I cross my arms, trying to hold onto my anger, but it's hard when he's looking at me like that. "You could say that."

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm not good at this, Jenny. Letting people in, accepting help. It's not who I am."

"Well, maybe it's time to change that." My words come out softer than I intend.

His eyes meet mine, a glimmer of hope in their depths. "You think a guy like me can change?"

I take a step forward, closing the distance between us. "I think anyone can change if they want to. The question is, do you want to?"

Piston's hand reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing against my cheek. "For you, I'd try."

My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to stay focused. "I don't want you to change for me, Piston. I want you to change for yourself."

He nods, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "I know I need to. And I'm sorry, for everything. For pushing you away, for being ungrateful. You didn't deserve that."

I lean into his touch, my resolve weakening. "No, I didn't."

"Give me another chance, Jenny. Let me show you I can be better." His voice is low, earnest.

I hesitate, my mind warring with my heart. Can I trust him? Can I put myself through this again?

But as I look into his eyes, I see something I've never seen before. Sincerity. Vulnerability. And maybe, just maybe, a hint of love.

"Okay," I whisper, my decision made. "One more chance."

The smile that spreads across Piston's face is genuine, transformative. It's like watching the sun break through the clouds after a storm.

He pulls me into his arms, his embrace strong and secure. I melt into him, my head fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck.

We stay like that for a long moment, just holding each other. No words are needed. This is a new beginning, a fresh start.

As we finally pull apart, Piston's eyes are shining. "Thank you, Jenny. I won't let you down."

I smile, my hand finding his. "You better not. Because if you do, I'm gone. For good this time."

He squeezes my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "I won't give you a reason to leave. I promise."

And for the first time since this whole mess started, I believe him.

We have a long way to go, I know that. Trust needs to be rebuilt, wounds need to heal. But as I stand here, my hand in his, I feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we can make this work.