“No, that’s right. I’m Hank Crane’s daughter. Guilty as charged, and there’s nothing I can do to change it.”
This is crazy. I’m not discussing it anymore. I just need to get her out of here and back home. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” That should do it, right?
“Wow.” There’s a faint tremor in her voice that rips me open. Why’s she making such a big fucking deal of this? “Thanks. So, what’re you forgiving, exactly? That I’m Hank Crane’s daughter, or the fact I wanted revenge?”
My head’s killing me, and it’s not all due to my hangover anymore. “Whatever, I don’t care. Just drop it, okay?”
“Uh huh.” She nods like she agrees with me, but I’m not fooled. “It’d be so much easier if I was a guy, wouldn’t it? We could’ve just kicked each other to a pulp years ago, gotten our need for vengeance out of our systems. But because I’m a girl, you can’t hack it. Because when it really counts, you’ll always trust a brother’s word more than mine.”
Now she’s pissing me off. “You’re talking shit. I’ve had enough.” I go to grab her arm but she manages to evade me, which does nothing to improve my temper. “Don’t push it, Amelia.”
“Why, what’ll you do?” Her voice is oddly calm, which for some reason is a lot worse than if she’d yelled at me. “There’s nowhere to go from here. I won’t be your cheap lay because you still want me but can’t stand the sight of me. I’ve despised the Bastards for the past ten years, but I couldn’t hate you and the others I met at Odin’s, no matter how much I wanted to. It hurt, Gage, but I wanted to work through it, everything, so we could have a chance together.” She takes a deep breath. “Can’t expect you to do the same, or even want to. Your rep is everything. I know that.”
Without waiting for an answer, she walks off, head held high, and disappears down the stairs.
…
It’s late Christmas Eve when Kat strolls into the kitchen. I ignore her, same as I’ve ignored everyone for the last twenty-four hours, but unlike Tod, my sister isn’t intimidated by my silence.
Finally, I swing around and glare at her. She runs a critical glance over the wrecked kitchen, but at least it’s cleared up now. Just an empty shell, useless for its purpose.
Not that I care. “What do you want?” It’s a growl. Christ, I’d kill for a drink, but some perverse part of me hasn’t let me touch a beer all day.
“Did Amelia really think our dad killed hers?”
I don’t want to do this. Not now. Not ever. Definitely not with Kat. But despite all that, I can’t help answering. “Yeah.”
She’s silent for so long I think she’s dropped it. “That sucks,” she says at last, and she doesn’t sound as though she’s taking the piss. “Imagine finding out the truth after all this time.”
I can’t. It’s too big. “She was never Abbott’s chick.”
Kat gives me a strange look. “I never said she was.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. Christ, I need a shower. “She jacked in the job the first night here. There was never a real plan to bring the Bastards down.”
My sister doesn’t make any smart retort, which isn’t like her. The silence drags on, and it grates on my nerves. “She hates bikers. Told me right up front she only dates nice boys.” The words are like acid on my tongue.
Kat gives her familiar smirk. “No one ever accused you of being that.”
“I don’t know what the fuck she wants from me. I told her I forgave her.” Shit, I didn’t mean to tell Kat that. She’ll never let me forget it. Except right now I don’t care if she gives me hell or not. It won’t bring Amelia back.
“You’re really serious about her.” Kat sounds kind of amazed, and there’s no mockery in her voice anymore. I’m about to deny it when the fight drains from me. What’s the point? My whole fucking club knows it, why shouldn’t my sister?
“Doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“Huh.” She frowns as though she’s trying to figure something out. “Does sheknowyou’re serious?”
“Of course she fucking knows.” I stood there while Amelia threw everything back in my face. I stamp out of the kitchen, but the massive hole in the wall of the living room isn’t exactly welcoming, so I make my way to my bedroom. At least Kat won’t follow me in there.
But as I lean against the closed door, doubt eats through me. Truth is, I can’t remember what I said to Amelia yesterday. The only thing that’s clear is she talked a lot of shit about how I never believe a word she said, then she walked out on me.
I won’t be your cheap lay. The words thunder through my head and I tense. She wasn’t serious. Was she? Why would she think I can’t stand the sight of her?
Because I never told her what she means to me.
…
I park down Amelia’s street. The houses are small, but the area’s quiet, with no bars or chop shops in sight. The neighborhood’s definitelynicerthan where Odin’s located. Christ, I hate that word.
