Since leaving my house, the ride to Gunner's has been quiet. I was in no mood to talk, and Gunner didn't seem like he wanted to talk either. But he also had a look on his face that told me there was something on his mind, and whatever it was, it was consuming him. And now my thoughts are consumed with figuring out what that is because he's been quiet ever since I told him I wanted to stay at his place.

And it hurts me to think the reason behind his quietness is that he doesn't want me to see where he lives or that there's something he's been hiding from me. Curious to hear his reasoning, I looked at him, but when he instantly looked away from me, I knew it wasn't the time to ask, so I scooted closer to the door and looked out the window.

As I watched the world go by, Gunner's breathing caught my ears, and as I listened, I noticed he was breathing through his nostrils—quick, shallow breaths and slowly exhaling—sounding nervous.

Why is he so nervous? Because the moment we got into downtown Seattle, Gunner's breathing became heavier. "Gunner, if you don't want me at your place, please take me home," I begged, looking back at him. "Because I don't want to be where I'm not wanted."

"If I didn't want you staying at my place, we wouldn't be on our way there," he answered quietly, but his response didn't sound very persuasive to me. So instead of saying anything more, and before an argument started, I looked out the window.

Finally, the vehicle stopped, and when I saw the line of people standing outside a building waiting to get inside, I pressed my face to the window after seeing a brightly lit sign hanging from the building. I immediately recognized it as the nightclub Justin had taken me to, and the one Gunner had saved me from getting punched on the dancefloor.

Good, he's taking me to get a drink.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I said, turning my head towards him. I noticed he had my bag in one hand; then, as he reached for my hand, I asked, "Why do you have my bag if we're here to have a drink?"

He wiggled his fingers at me. "Come on," he said, ignoring my question.

Instead of us heading to the back of the line like everyone else was doing, Gunner walked us straight to the bouncers, blocking everyone from going inside. One of the bouncers smiled while opening the door for us. "How's it going tonight, Gunner?"

"It's going all right, I guess. How are things here?"

"A little busier than usual, but all is good," the bouncer said, eyeing me. Then, with his eyes on Gunner, he jutted his chin towards me. "Is this her?"

Gunner looked away from him and down at me with a grin. "Yes, this is her."

"Nice to meet you finally; I'm Greyson," he enunciated, extending his hand towards me. He was cute, young, buff, big like Gunner, with a military-style haircut and dimples that showed in the center of his cheeks as he smiled.

I smiled while shaking his hand. "It's also nice to meet you. I'm Aria," I politely greeted, even though I had a feeling he already knew my name since Gunner had already talked to him about me, which only added to the growing questions I had for Gunner.

"You have a good night," Gunner said to him as he began leading me into the club.

I thought it was interesting; the bouncer didn't look at his clipboard to see if Gunner was on the guest list and how he allowed us to go right in. And because of that, it had me wondering if he's a regular or because they knew what he did for a living and feared Gunner would show them his fists if they refused to let him in.

And I'm also wondering if this is where he comes after leaving my place at night. Instead of going home and masturbating like I first thought, he's coming here to drink.

The nightclub was quite busy for a Sunday night, and the atmosphere was much different from the last time I was here. Instead of seeing arguing or fighting, everyone was having a good time. "What's going on that the place is busy like this?" I loudly asked so he'd hear me over the music.

He leaned into my ear. "It's like this almost every night, but tonight is a little busier than usual. And I'm sure it's because there was a concert and a baseball game tonight. Plus, there's a festival going on down the street."

"Oh yeah, that makes sense. I feel sorry for whoever works tomorrow. The way they're partying, they'll have one nasty hangover. I know I'd have one," I giggled.

He led me further into the club but instead of heading to the bar, he confused me when he continued walking us towards the other end of the nightclub. "I thought we were having a drink?"

He stopped walking and turned his head toward me. "Would you like a drink?"

"I thought that was why we were here?"

"All right, let's get a drink," he said, turning us around.

If we're not here to drink, then why are we here? Because I couldn't imagine him living inside a nightclub.

He set down my bag when we got to the side of the bar, then looked at me curiously. "What would you like to drink?"

I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted. My eyes diverted away from him and over to the busy bartenders mixing drinks. I'm sure it would take forever to get if I wanted a mixed drink, and I wasn't thirsty for a beer. Instead, I needed alcohol—something strong.

"I don't know. I don't want a beer, but I also don't want to stand here for a half-hour waiting for the bartender to mix me a drink."

"I'm asking you, what would you like?"

Gunner must have top priority for everything here. First, we were let in without a hassle, and now he's making it seem like he'll be going behind the bar to make my drink. I remember the last time we were here, and he drove us home; he said something about how he couldn't have fights inside his bar. But he never said he owned the place; all he said was "my club," which could mean anything.

"I'll take a..." I paused after changing my mind. At first, I wanted a Sex On The Beach, but now I want something else—something much stronger to calm my nerves, and so it would give me the courage I need to ask Gunner what his problem is tonight.

"Come on, Aria. You can have whatever you want, but I need you to tell me what that is."

Something strong would be... "A Long Island Iced Tea."

His eyes widened, and then he chuckled. "Is someone looking to get drunk tonight?"

"I don't want to get drunk, but it has been a while since I've had a nice buzz."

"I'll make sure to keep a bucket by the bed."

I nudged him with my shoulder, smiling. "It won't be needed."

He lifted the countertop and then walked into the bartender's space. Again, no employee said anything to him; all the bartenders did was smile and high-five him when he walked past them. I watched him with amazement as he grabbed a glass, filled it with ice, and grabbed the liquor bottles needed to make my drink. As he made my drink, I looked at the patrons standing on the other side of the bar after hearing them chanting Gunner's name.

It gives me goosebumps, and I smile every time I hear people chant Gunner's name; it shows how well-liked he is by everyone. And that makes me feel good.

Gunner came back with my drink and a drink for him. "Here," he said, handing me my Long Island Iced Tea.

I took the drink from his hand, and curious to see how well he could make a drink, I immediately wrapped my mouth around the straw, then while looking at him, I took a long slow slip.

"Wow, Gunner. This drink is perfectly made," I said, taking another sip, only a much smaller sip this time. And because of what I just witnessed and tasted, that just added to my list of questions.

"Follow me," he said, picking up my bag and sliding the strap over his shoulder.

I thought he was walking us to a quieter area or a patio to talk until I saw him stick a key into the lock, unlocking it. He opened the door, then rested his hand between my shoulder blades. "After you," he said, holding the door open for me.

I looked at the stairway, then back at an amused Gunner. "Where are we going?"

"You wanted to see my place, didn't you?"

"You live here?"

He nodded. "Go on, head up the stairs."

Boy, am I stupid.

I should have known. All the signs were there. The bouncers, the bartenders, him walking behind the bar and making my drink. All of it...

As I headed up the stairs, I thought about how loud it would be in his place, and it also had me thinking it's the entire reason he never brought me here. When I got to the top of the steps, I noticed cameras in every corner and a code box outside the door.

Talk about security. It must have cost a fortune.

He punched in his code, and the next thing that happened, the door opened on its own.

"Go inside," Gunner urged when I stood outside the doorway in shock. This was definitely not what I was expecting. I expected him to live in a nice smaller home outside of town. Or a small apartment but a condo above a nightclub?

My feet slowly stepped into his place, and as I stepped inside, the lights immediately turned on.

I looked up. "Did the lights come on by themselves?"

"Yes. When you walk through the door, the lights automatically turn on."

"Doesn't it drive you nuts?"

"How would it? A motion sensor turns the light on when I walk in."

"What about when you leave?"

He shook his head, then took a sip of his amber-colored drink. "No. It gets activated when I punch in the code outside the doorway. It works out nice when my hands are full," he winked.

It must be nice to have money.

I looked around as I walked in further. It surprised me to see how open and clean it was and how beautifully decorated it was for Gunner being a man. I also wasn't expecting it to be as tranquil as it was. I assumed I'd hear music from the nightclub, the thumping, and the music rattling the walls, but there wasn't any of that. Instead, it's quiet enough for a baby to sleep.

"This is my abode. Nothing fancy, nothing to praise about, but it's mine."

I slowly spun on my heel, eyeing everything. "It's big, very open, quiet, and private." I stopped turning when I got to him. "How did you find this place?"

"Well..." he hesitated. "I own this building."

My brows quickly scrunched together. "You own this entire building?"

"I own everything. The nightclub, the store space, this... so yes, the entire building."

Well, I guess that answers all the newly added questions I had for him since we arrived. He employs them all. It also cleared up his meaning when he said "my club" the night we met.

"Is that why you didn't want me here?"

"No. I wasn't trying to hide any of this from you. It's just that nobody has been inside my place since Shelby was alive."

"I thought she had her own place?"

"She did, but she spent most of her time here. It was going to be our place after we married, and as you can see by the decor, it wasn't me who decorated the place; it was her. Since Shelby's and my father's passing, I haven't allowed a single person inside my home until now."

I took a sip of my drink while scanning the room. Gunner had nice-looking furniture that you could tell was hardly used. Then there were belts, trophies, awards, and pictures that consumed his walls. Curious to see the pictures, I pointed at the shrine of photos. "Can I take a look at those on the wall?"

He nodded. "Go ahead."

I walked over to the wall and studied each picture. There were many pictures of Gunner with Neron, Gunner fighting, and pictures of him with a man I didn't recognize, which I assume was his father. And then there were many pictures of him with a beautiful woman.

I turned my head towards him, using my drink to point at the photo. "Is this her?"

Instead of answering, he walked over to me, pointing to each picture and explaining each one. And just like I thought, it was his father in many of the photographs. And the beautiful woman in nearly every picture was exactly who I thought it was: Shelby.

"She's very beautiful."

"She was..." he quietly said, a hint of unsureness in his voice about admitting she was.

Now I understand why he was hesitant about bringing me here. It was his sanctuary—his life with her. He knew she was still in his home and may have worried about what I would think or how I would feel to see he still looked at her every day.

I'll admit it hurt seeing he still had pictures of her hanging on the wall. But then I wondered if they're still up as a reminder for him to continue finding them both justice. If it's not that, it's because he can't seem to get over her.

I noticed another picture on the wall, surrounded by images of his father and Shelby—a snake. And it's identical to the tattoo covering and how it's coiling up around his right leg.

Curious about the snake and what that meant, I pointed to it. "I noticed something about the snake here on the wall. It matches your leg. Is there a reason behind it?"

He lowered his drink from his mouth and stared at the snake. I looked back at the snake, trying to figure it out, and when nothing came to mind, I looked back at him, asking, "Is this a motto, or does it have to do with what happened to them?"

He took a drink while staring at the wall of photos, then scratched his head as he spoke. "You know the walkout song I use before my fight, right?"

"Yeah, the Don't Tread on Me song. Why?"

"That song means a lot to me. And that snake you see there," he pointed, "is on the album's cover. If you haven't noticed, I'm a huge Metallica guy. Their music reminds me of me, my life, and what I have gone through. Between that album and their other album, And Justice for All, has been my life. That song, Don't Tread on Me, warns the other fighter that they're not to fuck with me. So because of what The Tormentor and the others did to my father and Shelby, they started a war with me, and I will not rest until justice is served."

I know the albums. I like the music, and I can see where Gunner's getting his thinking from. But there must be another reason behind the snake. I know rattlesnakes release venom, so is he trying to say he's a snake and that he'll strike when he's provoked?

"I still don't understand. What does that have to do with the snake?"

"The rattlesnake with its tongue flicked out, showing his fangs and how his body is coiled, is to show defense. Snakes also represent fertility or a creative life force, and when a snake sheds its skin, they symbolize immortality, transformation, rebirth, and healing. The ouroboros symbolizes eternity and the continual renewal of life... that snake there," he pointed. "The one on my leg is me. I'm that snake."

I think I understand what he's thinking.

"So, what you're saying is, the snake reminds you every day that no matter what happened, you can heal and move on with your life?"

"Yes. It shows that I'm always on the defense. Meaning, don't fuck with me. I heard a phrase once and loved it. I thought it was the perfect phrase for me, and it's one I use all the time; If you dare put your foot down on me, I will strike. Everyone who knows me and isn't afraid to fight me knows I will do just that."

Hopefully, that's true, and once he finally gets justice, I hope he'll remove her off his wall.

I may sound like a bitch for thinking that way, but I can't be in a relationship with one who continues to live in the past. I want a future. I don't want unnecessary baggage that will drag us down as life goes on. You can't move forward if the other still wants to live in the past.

I looked back at the wall, placed the straw in my mouth, and sucked every bit of the drink I had left while looking at the pictures.

He reached around me, grabbed the empty glass from my hand, and kissed my cheek. "Did you want another drink?"

I shrugged my shoulder, then turned my head to the side. "I would."

"You can stay here. I'll go get us a couple more drinks."

"Okay."

"You're more than welcome to snoop around."

"Snoop around?"

His eyes lit up as I had humored him, and then he chuckled. "That's what I said, isn't it? I thought girls like to do that when they're finally alone in a new place or their boyfriend's place. They enjoy snooping around for incriminating stuff to pick a fight with," he grinned.

"You know women well... but I don't need to snoop."

"Look around and make yourself comfortable. Anything you see that makes you want to question me, ask me about it. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

I should start with a mind trick.

He's not dumb, and he'll probably know what I'm up to.

"Is there something you don't want me touching or looking at?"

He grabbed my chin and lowered his mouth to mine. "Nice try. As I said, you're welcome to snoop at anything and everything. I have nothing to hide."

I knew he would catch on.

I smiled and giggled. Then I rested the palms of my hands on either side of Gunner's cheeks. "And I told you, I don't need to snoop."

"I'll be right back. Would you like the same thing?"

"Yes, please."

I didn't feel like I had to snoop around. With no hesitation, Gunner has answered every question I had. But I was curious about the rest of his place, so I started checking it out. It was all one floor, except for stairs leading up to a loft—his room.

It's a nice place. Not one I would buy, but I can see why Gunner built living quarters above the nightclub. The only way to his home is through the bar, and he can check on his businesses at any time. He's next to where he fights, and the gym is right down the street.

Gunner's got it made by living right here.

I looked at his bed, and then I grew curious about how comfortable his bed was. So first, I sat, and when I felt it was much more comfortable than mine, I laid backward on it.

This is heaven.

It was like I was lying on a cloud.

I looked to the other side and saw his closet door was open. But what I saw inside made my stomach turn.

Her clothes are still hanging next to his.

Maybe this wasn't such an excellent idea to come here.

Relax, Aria... she's gone.

I rolled to my other side, hid my hands underneath the side of my face, and stared at the door, watching for Gunner to enter.

I was feeling much safer at Gunner's than at my place. He's got security all over the building, cameras scattered everyone. You need a key to open the door to the stairway, and once you're up the stairs, you need to know the security code to open the door.

There's no way anyone can get in here.

I watched the door slide open, and in came Gunner with our drinks. "I'm up here," I responded after he called out my name.

He looked up and raised my glass. "Are you drinking up there, or would you like to drink it here?"

"I'll come down."

"I'm a little surprised. When I saw you lying on my bed, I assumed you were naked, waiting for me," Gunner grinned as I headed towards him.

"I thought about it," I admitted while taking the drink from his hand. "But then I saw her clothes still hanging in your closet. So I changed my mind."

His face fell, and I knew I hit a chord in his heart with how it fell. I didn't mean for it to sound the way it did. Jealous, hurt, and snippy. But if he wants to be with me, something will need to change. This is our life now. And I can't have a life with him if he thinks she's coming back.

"I'm sorry, Gunner. I have to be honest with you. I can't do anything here. Not with her still here."

"She's not here."

"I know she's not physically here. But she's still here. You've got photos of Shelby all over the walls. There's a picture of her beside your bed. And her clothes are still hanging next to yours in the closet. So because of that, I feel she still lives here. And it has me feeling like I'm cheating or having an affair with a married man."

He set his drink down, grabbed mine from my hand, set it on the table, and then pulled me to him. He gazed into my eyes, and I saw sadness when I stared into his.

"Aria... I know she's gone. But the reason she's still here is that I couldn't let go. I always said that if I finally bring them justice, I would donate all her belongings to the homeless or people in need. But now that you're in my life, which I love more than anything, it gives me a reason to let them go sooner. I just haven't had the chance to do just that."

"But her pictures..."

"I know they're still on the wall, and those I'll tell you now, they will not come down until I bring them justice."

"But the one next to your bed... it should be me, not her."

"And I agree..."

"We've been together for over a month, and she's still there, by your bed. Why?"

It's a question I needed to ask, but now that I did, I'm afraid to hear his response, especially since his eyes suddenly sloped down at the corners like a sad puppy.

He's still in love with her, isn't he?

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!👍🤞👍🤞