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the middle of the night, or scale a fence and outrun angry dogs.
    I don’t spend the night, ever . I don’t do hand holding or spooning. We aren’t going to cuddle, and I sure as shit won’t be here in the morning to cook him breakfast. I hate to ditch him by running out, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t do it.
    It’s not that I don’t want to stay, wake up and feed him, because I do. I just know that I shouldn’t.
    It fucking sucks, I’m not going to lie. He’s the only man I would ever want to stay with. Nothing sounds sweeter than to curl up under his blankets, wrap myself around his body, but it’s something I’ve never been able to do.
    Watching my mom burn through beds like gasoline on a fire, kind of put things in a weird perspective for me. Men are users most of the time. Not all of them, but a large majority. I’d rather avoid them all then to take my chances. I use you. You’ll never use me.
    I know Rocky loves me, but it’s not that kind of love. He’s not that kind of guy, and even if he were, I’m not sure I’m willing to risk what we do have, which is comfortable and stable.
    Rock knows the drill. We’ve done this before. On the outside, I’m easy breezy, but inside, I feel guilty. Rock seems cool with what we have because he’s a ‘go with the flow’ kind of guy. No one likes to be used, but as humans, we’re flawed. I know I’m Rock’s biggest flaw, just as he’s mine. I use him and he lets me.
    “You going?” he asks, his voice rough.
    “Yeah. I’ve gotta be in to work early.” Which is true, but it’s just an excuse. A lame one, but it works.
    Grabbing my my shit, I’m heading for the door before Rock can even get out of bed. I have to. Staying feels too intimate to me. That’s not what we are. We fuck, we get what we need from each other, and that’s what we do. I don’t have to feel awkward for staying, and he doesn’t have to hurt my feelings by wanting me gone.
    Stopping at the door, I look back to Rock when I know I shouldn’t. He sits on the side of the bed, his elbows on his knees, as he stares down at the floor. Biting the inside of my cheek, I stifle the words clawing at my throat. Whatever I have to say will only make it worse.
    On the outside, Rock cares about nothing. He’s tough and reckless. But on the inside, he cares. He probably cares too much. Me, on the other hand, I’m too chicken shit to do anything about the feelings I tend to walk all over. The moment my walls come down, they’ll crumble down to the foundation.
    “Night, Rocky.”
    Looking up, he smiles sweetly. The contrast from his biker life to that smile is night and day, but somehow, he always finds that smile just for me. It’s beautiful, and it’s mine.
    Only mine.
    “Night, El.”

Three
    Tears & Tits
    Rock
    I’m dog fuckin’ tired. Didn’t sleep much after El bailed on me, which is what she always does. I should be used to that shit by now, but for some damn reason, it still annoys the hell out of me. And what do I do? I let her go, every fucking time. I never stop her. I never ask her to stay. I give her what she feels she needs, is how I think of it.
    I let her walk all over me.
    Fell asleep sometime after four this morning, only to be woken up by my cell a few hours later. It was Dan, and when Dan calls, you show the fuck up.
    Pulling into the lot, I swing around back and park.
    Walking through the lot, I catch Buck inside the shop out back with T. Tink’s in town, and I don’t have a single fucking clue where Poncho is. That fucker sleeps all damn day, so there’s a real possibility he’s still knocked the fuck out. Lucky bastard. Ben’s inside with Rico and a few stray nomads who are visiting.
    Up the stairs to room one, I walk in and find Dan standing by the table. Mossy is next to him in his chair, and both have started drinking already. That’s always a positive sign at nine in the morning.
    “Got Lou’s cut.” It’s the first thing out of Dan’s mouth.