“Asked if I’d like her to get the washing out of the dryer. Said she’d fold it if I wanted her to.”
“I mean, maybe Reno gets her to help out.” I shrug. Although I can’t remember doing much for Mom but sweeping the floor at that age.
“Fang,” Jezabel sighs. “Trust me. She’s too worried about things that shouldn’t be on her mind at that age. Makes me wonder what she has to do for herself at home.”
“You saying Reno leaves her unsupervised?”
Jezabel raises her floury hands. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. Just voicing what doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Appreciated.” I shove the last of the dough in my mouth and swivel off the stool.
Reno ain’t the best mom around; there’s no doubting that. But I never once figured she might be neglecting our daughter.Surely I would have seen signs if that were the case?Like you didn’t this morning?
But maybe I’m not as sharp as I thought; I never picked Jenna to be the killer in her group.
Or maybe I need to take my own damn advice and get out of my head once in a while to take a look around me. Give more attention to needs and wants that aren’t my own. Get more involved with the people who matter.
Be the King I’m supposed to be.
TWENTY-THREE
JENNA
I lie on the sofa,blanket tucked beneath my arms, hands fisted in the top edge while I stare up at the ceiling in the dark. The patterned, copper tiles blur, my eyes struggling to make heads or tails of the stamped design in the dim light. Darla breathes softly to my left, The Kid tucked into her side under their shared blanket. One of the prospects moved a mattress down for them to be more comfortable after spending the first night on the hard floor. Kathy didn’t need the same treatment, content to stay upstairs with her inked terror keeping guard.
My chest rises and falls with a deep breath. Everything’s so goddamn messed up. People know too much, and yet there’s still so much I haven’t said. I knew my father’s club allegiance would be an issue. Didn’t figure Mary-Beth’s death would be the thing that got me in the most trouble.
What will her father do if he finds out? Will I even see it coming—his bullet? Which leads to the age-old question: is it better to know when you’ll die or live your life in blissful ignorance? I close my eyes and exhale heavily. All I know is I don’twantto die. I watched Mom suffer through her final years, and that was enough to cement for me that swift and painlesswould be the best. When I’m old. In my sleep. Once I’ve had a lifetime to make my own choices and live a lifeI’vecurated—not my parents, not their so-called friends.
I want to exist on my own terms. Make my own mistakes and find some semblance of peace before I check out. Have a normal job. Make normal friends. Go for coffee on a Saturday and be a hermit on a Sunday. Find a hobby.
Breathe.
Breathe, Jenna.I rub my aching sternum, panic flushing my system.How do I get out of this?Will I ever get away from what I’ve done? Could I live that ordinary life, knowing I took somebody else’s? Or will it taint everything, robbing me of the dream?
Do I even deserve to dream?
The Kid wriggles against Darla, smacking her lips a little as she settles again. I twist my neck and squint into the darkness, attempting to make out more than her shadowy figure. It’s no use. The moon hides behind cloud tonight, the world blanketed in a deep sleep that somehow forgot to add me to the guest list. I toss the blanket back and swivel to a seated position, hands either side of me.
What the hell do I do? Make a coffee?Maybe.Scream into the void?Definitely. Just got to find a void first.
The floorboards are cool beneath my socked feet, the fire barely retaining any glowing embers. I slip another chopped log on as quietly as I can and gently stoke the ashes to get the wood to catch. The house is quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator, dark, save for the single bulb illuminating the back doorstep.
I know Jezabel’s room is one of the three outdoors. Heard Chaos’s sister has another, not that I’ve seen her yet. An educated guess would be that the third used to belong to Reno, unless there’s another bunny I’ve yet to meet.
I slip outside and immediately shiver. Dew coats the ground, the night still deciding whether to turn it to frost. Arms folded over myself, I wander to the end of the short concrete path—as far as I can go before getting my socks too wet—and stare out over the ghostly fields.
The pull to disappear is strong. To walk off into the nothing and not stop. Fade from people’s minds and memories. But I know I’d be miserable living that life, always on the move. Always looking into the eyes of the strangers around me, wondering if they’re the one.
I need to front up to what I’ve done. To tie the loose ends before I cut all connection to the MC world.
Time passes without consequence while I daydream of how things could have gone differently, playing pick-a-path with my own fucking life. Shivers wrack my body, and the hint of daylight casts a blue hue on the horizon line.You’ll catch your death of cold.Make things easier, though, wouldn’t it?
A faint red light draws my eye left, the rumble of an engine starting soon after. What I assume to be Chaos backs out of the cottage’s driveway, headlight sweeping the road as he takes off—away from the clubhouse. A light flicks on across the porch, and a shadowy figure steps out into the chilly morning.
I stay frozen—quite literally—in place.
The figure steps forward, arm moving slightly. Maybe to lift a coffee? I can’t be sure this far away. They turn, and the door opens, spilling light toward the road, then shuts again.
