“If last night meant anything to him, he wouldn’t have pissed off this morning, and he sure as hell would have had the decency to talk to me before that little fucking scene,” I say. I don’t know what’s got into me, but obviously, spending time surrounded by these strong women is rubbing off on me.
“Look, you need to talk to him.”
I shake my head furiously. I’ve been taken for a cunt one too many times. I’m not about to dive into a relationship where he doesn’t even have the decency to talk things through with me.
“Listen, you’re safe here with us. Just think about it, give yourself some time. Talk to him, don’t talk to him, but think about it first when you’re not angry.”
I run my hands over my face. I’m tired of constantly trying to sort my shitshow of a life out. There’s a gentle knock at the door.
“Clay, if that’s you, fuck off,” Red shouts, and I let out a little laugh. She really doesn’t have a care in the world—she speaks to them however she likes, and I hope I can have that same confidence one day.
“It’s only me,” Rochelle says as she enters. “You okay?”
I nod. “I’ll be okay. Red has read me the riot act.” I laugh. “I’m still pissed, but she’s right, I need to think shit through. I feel like I shouldn’t be in his bed. I can’t even bring myself to look at him.”
“Can we find her another room, Rochelle?” Red asks.
“No, he can find somewhere else to sleep. It’s his fucking fault anyway.” She throws her hands in the air. “These men.”
“You don’t have to do anything. I don’t want you to get involved.”
“Too late,” Red says with a grin. “And unless you didn’t get the memo, you’re an ol’ lady now, and we stick together.”
Rochelle sits on the other side of me, grabbing my hand. They didn’t need to give me a place of refuge, but they have.
“Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing,” she says with a slight smile, gauging my reaction. She continues when I don’t protest. “If you think about it, it’ll keep Brandy’s claws away from you.”
“You think so?”
Red looks at her suspiciously. “When has that ever stopped the club whores?”
“Well . . . Clay isn’t like most of the brothers,” she points out.
“I’m just saying, they always like to push the fucking boundaries. They have no morals.”
Rochelle looks at me reassuringly. “But you have us, and if Clay doesn’t stand up for you, we will.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
There’s another knock at the door, and I automatically tense. Rochelle stands and pulls the door open. Clay’s body fills the frame, and I look down and begin fidgeting with my hands.I can’t do this. Rochelle puts her arm out, blocking the doorway.
“It’s my room, Rochelle,” he growls.
“Well, you can find somewhere else to fucking sleep,” she spits, and I love the way she has all the men in their place. I wish I had her courage, then maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation.
“Belle,” he shouts over her, and I turn away, making sure not to make eye contact because I could quite easily crumble right now. “Belle, I just wanna explain.”
“You made yourself very fucking clear downstairs. You’ve claimed her as your ol’ lady. Now, fuck off and let us do our job,” she shouts, slamming the bedroom door.
“Belle, I just want to help. Let me explain,” he pleads through the closed door. “I’ve fucked up, I should of spoken with you, but just hear me out, please.”
My heart tugs at the vulnerability in his voice, and I feel myself itching to sit with him. I sigh as I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and stand.
“Nuh-uh,” Red also stands, “not a chance. Let him stew.”
“I feel bad,” I mutter, embarrassed.
“Don’t you dare. You haven’t done anything wrong. Lesson one-o-one, always let your biker do the grovelling. He’s at fault here, not you, so let him work for it.”
