During Rio’s fourteen years inside, it was like he’d felt frozen– not only literally but figuratively too, like time inside those iron bars had stalled, but the outside world just kept on moving. Without him. It’d been a bitter thought in his mind for the longest time until he’d finally come to the realization that he couldn’t have one foot in that world and one inside a prison, especially not when anyone else was trying to toe that line with him. And so he’d let Charli go, unwilling to let her live her life in some sort of fucked up limbo where she’d be held back– he'd needed her to be in a place where her life could move forward even if his couldn’t. It’d been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but the right thing. And so to stand here with her now was surreal– it felt like he could take a breath for the first time in fourteen years without feeling like barbed wire was stretched out across his chest, caging in his sense of relief. Because he knew she was okay now. For the first time in all of those years, he could see it for himself and it made it all worth it, even if it’d damn near killed him to let her go.
A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as she continued to look him over– not that he wasn’t doing the exact same to her. Of course he was– she’d always been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and that had only grown with time, and he’d never hide how his gaze lingered on her long after he should have stopped looking. Rio shrugged a shoulder ever so nonchalantly, “Had some free time, y’know, figured I’d start working out,” he supplied with a laugh. Free time to the tune of fourteen years. But at least he’d made use of it in that area. He’d rather focus on her though, and his eyes spoke for himself, trailing over her every perfect dip and curve. Red was a passionate color, and he couldn’t think of one more fitting for a woman who’d shown him her passion in spades. He sucked in a breath, didn’t care if she’d noticed it, and threw her a knowing smile, “I do.” He’d been on the receiving end of that passion enough to know just how deep it ran.
With every bit of distance that was eaten up between them, Rio found himself relaxing more. There was something about being in her orbit that loosened the tension in his shoulders, regardless of the fact that they had fourteen years to talk about. Somehow, it didn’t matter– at least not in that moment. “I know,” he murmured, stepping a bit closer himself, like a moth drawn to a flame, “There’s not exactly a how-to manual for how we’re supposed to do this.” Still, he was happy to hear that seeing him was a good surprise. Everything else would work itself out, or at least that was what he told himself now that so much distance between them had been swallowed up.
“Mind if I get it by the end of the night?” Her number, that was. Maybe it was bold, but was it really, considering all their cards on the table? Even now, Charli knew him in ways no one else did. He nodded then, knowing her question really wasn’t desiring an answer, and yet he cracked one anyway, if only just to inject humor into the moment, “Well, nearly crashing into each other by the slot machines wasn’t exactly on my list how I thought I’d do it, but I’ll take it.”
And then she reached for him.
For fourteen years, his body had been so devoid of affection, of any sort of human touch other than fists or makeshift knives. For half a heartbeat, Rio scarcely knew what to do. And then as if on instinct, he responded, his arms lifting to wrap around her frame. “I’ve missed you too,” he managed, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as she turned into him, “And this.” Fuck, she felt incredible, with nearly every line of her body tucked up so perfectly against his. As if re-learning how she fit in his arms, he kept one arm locked around her, while the other hand moved across the expanse of her back, tracing over every fine line. He laughed softly at her next comment, just grateful he no longer smelled like a prison. “Dollar store fabric softener, baby– never fails,” he teased, easing back the slightest bit just to look at her as his hands slipped down her frame and came to rest against her waist.
“Getting there– still a prospect,” he sighed, knowing he still had a long way to go before he actually wore a patch. But it was worth it, because without the MC, he’d have likely been dead by now. “The club offered me protection inside, figured I’d be stupid not to take it when it came knocking.” Why he’d even needed the protection was a story for another time, as were the collection of scars adorning his left side. A soft breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding so close to his chest, released upon hearing she wasn’t here with a date.
He lifted a brow at her question, “What would you want me to do?” It was his roundabout way of asking if she’d still want him to chase her, regardless of the circumstances. Not that they’d have mattered, though, because he’d planned on chasing her anyway. The world might have stopped for fourteen years for him, but the way he felt about her hadn’t missed a single beat. Growing bolder then, he raised a hand at her question, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, “You’re all I thought about for fourteen years, Charli,” he murmured, his hand slipping down to cup the side of her face, while the other stayed planted against her hip, “I was always gonna come for you.” It’d just been a matter of when and how, but he’d always known he’d find her once he was released and had a moment to catch his breath. His hand settled beneath her chin, lifting it ever so slightly so that he could get a better look at her, “¿Esperabas que viniera?”
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