“That may be so, but, brother, you are fucking miserable because you want your wife and won’t fight for her, and you need to fight for her,” he says, and I retort, “And you need to come home.”
He snorts, “Nice deflecting,” and I roll my eyes. “Look, I’m not ready to come home,” he says seriously as we lock eyes, “My head is still fucked up, and my main focus is my girl, and if I decide to stay here, then you have to know it’s for my own mental health.”
I shake my head, hating his words, but he doesn’t stop. He continues, “Go home and speak to your wife, tell her what’s really going on in your head before you fucking lose her to someone else. You’ve been married for five years, and no one has tried to attack her, she may see it as a sign you don’t need to be married anymore.”
Dread sits heavy in the pit of my stomach at the thought of losing Clark and I swallow hard and choke, “She’s a club princess,” and he mutters, “That you fucking love and she thinks you’re screwing around,” he sighs, “I’m good here, that fucker is gone, he won’t go near Drew again, so you can go.”
And by fucker he means Drake, Drew's ex-boyfriend from when she was, I think, fifteen or something. The dickhead tried attacking Drew, and she broke his dick literally as Cage stormed into her studio.
“If you come home, Drew can open her ballet studio in town, and my daughter can join,” I try, and he chuckles, “I’ll keep that in mind,” before he mutters, “It’s still so fucking weird that you have a daughter.”
I half smile and admit, “Weird but perfect, she’s just like her mama,” and he chuckles before he says, “Come on, brother, I’ll see you off,” and we both stand after throwing cash on the table and walk out the café towards my bike ready to get home to see my girls. I may be distant with her, but she is still my girl, she always fucking has been, I just didn’t want to see the truth. I just wish we could be the family I want but I’m no good for her. I would have kept my distance from my daughter too, but I just can’t.
Chapter 4
Clark
I message Trick the contact information for Angel’s Ballerinas before I put my phone back in my locker, and I swallow hard, the tears that have started to brim slowly falling, and I quickly wipe them away.
That was hard, extremely hard, and extremely embarrassing.
For five years, I have asked Trick for nothing. Heck, I barely speak to him unless it is about our daughter. Today was the first time I’ve not just called him but asked him for something. Willow is my whole world, when the only thing she is asking for is to begin ballet lessons, how can I say no to that?
If it means swallowing my pride and calling her father while he’s with one of his mistresses—he’s been with her for four days now, only facetiming Willow at bedtime—then fine. I’ll do it. I’llswallow my pride and anger. I’ll swallow the hurt I feel every goddamn day since he forced me to marry him.
Regret and resentment sit heavily on my chest, and I hate it, I really do.
I regret allowing this to become my life and not being able to live my dream. I resent him for forcing this life on me, even though he knew I wanted out of the club, that I wanted to find myself. I wanted to find someone who would love me unconditionally and instead, I’ve fallen for someone who doesn’t love me unconditionally. No, he sees me as his problem, as someone who ruined his life and took over his home—again, a place I was forced to move into.
I wipe a few more tears and I take a deep breath before I leave the staff room, fighting the urge to curl up in a ball and cry, while I try to control my broken heart.
Yet again, Trick is with another woman, living his life, while I haven’t slept with anyone else and have revolved mine around our child.
That one and only time with Trick is my only sexual experience, and it isn’t because guys haven’t taken notice of me, they have. A few doctors have asked me out on dates, and every time I’ve refused them, every time I have shown them my wedding ring. Not just because I hold my values where marriage is concerned but, well, stupidly, I’m in love with my husband, and I hate it, I’ve fought against it, if I’m being honest with myself, three-quarters of my life.
I have always been attracted to Trick. Heck, he was the brother I picked in that game with Belle. I always thought that was it, that there was nothing else. But then I saw him hold our daughter after I’d given birth by C-section because of course, little miss decided to turn in my stomach while I was in labor, I realized I was in love with him. I felt like I couldn’t breathe especially when I heard a woman’s giggle when I had no choicebut to call and tell him I was in labor, a labor he nearly missed because of her.
At first, I thought it had to be the hormones. You know, seeing the father of your child holding your baby. I’m sure that does something to any woman in that situation but the more time that went on, the more hurt I felt seeing him stay clear of me, barely communicating, the more hurt I felt when women hung off his arm and after a long talk with Belle, I realized I fell for Trick the day he caught me after I fell from the club’s jungle gym when I was seven.
He’s my heart, and he’s broken me.
Shaking my head, I go to the central desk and pick up my schedule for today and I try to dismiss the disappointment that this is my job.
Don’t get me wrong, I love helping people, it’s what I’ve always wanted to do and since I was sixteen, I’d been volunteering at the Hill Crest Memorial Hospital alongside my best friend Belle. I planned to become a nurse here with her one day, I dreamed about it but unfortunately, my plans have changed and instead of becoming a nurse, I’m a nursing assistant.
Checking blood pressures, charting, changing bedsheets, personal hygiene care—that is my life. As each day passes, I sense my resentment towards my family, especially Trick, growing stronger and I don’t know how to overcome it. I don’t know how to stop punishing them by not being actively involved in my daughter’s life.
It’s been five years, and no one knows who spiked his drink. Trick said he knew who did it, but didn’t have proof, and the brothers refused to kick anyone out of the club without said proof. Even though Trick is now the VP of the club, and they all lost my trust, especially when they forced the marriage on me.
I haven’t spoken to my parents in person in five years. I don’t talk to Crash though he continues to try to speak to me. I don’tlet any of the members of the club near my daughter and if I’m at work until four, then my little girl is three floors up in the hospital daycare. Thankfully, it is free for me, and if I’m in dire need of a break, then Belle will take her for an hour without my brother being there.
As I said, they all lost my trust, and if I thought I could get away with running, then I would in a heartbeat.
I nearly died.
I assaulted Trick, and I’m reminded of it every day by the club bunnies and their snarky remarks every time they see me. They claim I probably laced his drink so I could trap him, that Trick also believes that, especially Lavender, Trick’smain squeeze, as she likes to gloat about. I’m not inclined to believe what the club bunnies say or accuse, but the silver pendant Willow accidentally found in Trick’s cut last week— when he came home to spend some time with her—it now sits around Lavender’s neck making me think maybe he does think I trapped him.
I shake my head, feeling overwhelmed as I look down at the list of chores I need to get done before my break. Swallowing hard, I head to room one, which is down for a deep scrub, and allow myself to get lost in my work until lunch.
