Page 125 of Dark Surrender

“How are you?” he asks, leaning his hip against the counter.

I shrug.

Tarek snorts. “That shitty, huh?”

Pretty much.

Lips pressed into a thin line, I nod.

“You wanna get the fuck outta this place for a few hours? Maybe go for a ride?”

With him? On the back of a motorcycle? Nope. The only person I wanna ride with is his dad, who’s…

My gut twists and tears make another appearance.

Ugh. So much for no more crying.

Reading my emotions loud and clear, Tarek flicks his chin toward the back door. “Okay. No ride. How about a walk to get some fresh air?”

Fine.

Sighing in defeat, I dip my head in agreement, then head to the bedroom I’m using to find the slip-on sandals I was given. I don’t bother with makeup or my wig. Everyone has seen me without them for days now. They don’t care. Nobody stares or gives a shit. The only person who commented on my baldness was Ryker, who fist-bumped me for having matching hairdos.

Dressed in cotton shorts and an oversized T-shirt with a Harley on the front, I find Tarek out back. The cabin’s nestled in the woods, so we don’t have to go far to find a path through the trees. The Texas heat sucks, but the fresh air soothes my lungs as we follow the narrow dirt path that reminds me of childhood and of Dee’s and my many adventures. Is it strange to admit I miss her opossums? I’m sure they’re thriving in Kings Cursed. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tarek leads, and I follow. When we come across a fallen branch in our path, he picks it up and throws it into the woods. Even from behind, he looks a lot like his father. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, jeans that hug all the right places. Not that I’m checking him out, but the resemblance is uncanny. He’s not wearing his cut. Not that he should on a nature walk.

At some point, we come upon a small, open meadow that’s more weeds and wildflowers than grass. A bird flits through the afternoon sky. I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and soak up the rays on my face.

“I know everyone probably keeps askin’ you, but how are you holdin’ up?” Tarek asks, breaking the quiet peacefulness.

“I’m okay. I guess. What choice do I have? How are you?”

“I’m alright.”

“Come on. You can do better than that,” I press, only because everyone’s been so concerned about Kali and me. Beyond their mother caring about them, Dark’s sons haven’t gotten the same treatment as us. They are their dad and grandfather. This can’t be easy on either of them. Not that I’ve seen Fog all that much.

“I’ve only been here three days, and I’m already tired of sittin’ around.” Tarek kicks the dirt with the toe of his leather motorcycle boot. “When Pops is ready to reach out, he will. We need to trust him on that. He isn’t like Dad. He doesn’t just disappear for months on end with no fucking word. If he’s quiet, then we need to respect his decision.”

“Have you told your mom this?”

“Yeah. She already knows.”

“And?”

“She’s not thinkin’ straight.”

“What do you think we should do?” I ask, since he’s more levelheaded than the rest of us right now.

“Let Fog and me take you and Mom home. There’s no reason for us to stay in Texas, beyond my brother gettin’ his dick wet. Which he’s had days to do. So, we might as well get back to it. Mom needs to work before she goes crazy. You… Well, I dunno what you do, but whatever that is, do that.”

“I don’t do anything. But I would still like to go home.” To my house, my bed, and that ugly couch I bought with Dark.

Tarek nods as if he gets it. Pulling his cell phone from his back pocket, he fires off a series of texts before he shoves his phone back into his jeans. “We’ll leave tonight,” he vows just as he waves for us to continue our walk.

I wanna ask about leaving, and how he’s gonna do that, given he’s not technically in charge here, and from what I understand, we’re under Bear’s rules, guidance… whatever the technical term is for a motorcycle club.

By the time we return to the cabin, I’m out of breath, and my shirt’s soaked with sweat from all the humidity. I wipe the back of my hand over my eyes. They sting from the salt dripping into them because I have no hair on my head or lashes to help. Fun times. Not that Tarek has fared much better. He took his shirt off long ago and tucked it into his waistband. His ink-covered body is equally soaked in sweat.