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“Honey?” Toni appeared at the open stall. “You all right?”
“Um…I think so,” Shell said in a trembling voice. “Just gross.”
“If it were anyone else, I’d assumed you were knocked up, but seeing as how you were fine until Rusty winked one of those creepy eyes at you, I’m guessing you’re not.”
Pregnant. Funny. She’d been one of the lucky ones who didn’t throw up once throughout her pregnancy. Now, four years later it turned out that same pregnancy was making her vomit. “Not pregnant.” She flopped on her ass and rested her back against the wall of the stall, looking up at Toni’s concerned face.
“He do something to you in the past?” Toni asked. She sank down onto the floor opposite Shell.
Suddenly, she had to say it. Had to get the words out. Never once had they crossed her lips, but if she didn’t say it, she was going to self-destruct. Rusty’s appearance was just too much.
“He—” Memories she worked every single day of her life to forget bombarded her. Rusty’s hands, Rusty’s mouth, Rusty’s threats.
Rusty’s hatred of his brother.
“He’s Beth’s father.”
Toni’s face blanched as her eyes bugged. The shock was expected, and unfortunately, so was the doubt reflected in her eyes.
Doubt over who Shell was as a person. The thoughts running through Toni’s head were so loud, they were screaming in Shell’s own brain.
Did you do it to punish Copper?
Do you have feelings for Rusty?
Do either Copper or Rusty know?
How could you?
The foot of physical distance separating them might as well have been an ocean. Girlfriends were so important, especially since the majority of her tribe consisted of overbearing macho bikers. Girlfriends kept her sane, balanced.
Even though she’d been anticipating suspicion from Toni, actually witnessing it was a punch to the gut.
“Please,” she whispered. “I’m not ready to talk about it. I can’t talk about it. But please, please believe me. It’s not what you’re thinking.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“FEEL LIKE I’M fucking dreaming,” Copper said as he knocked back the last of his whiskey. Nowadays, he wasn’t much of a day drinker. In his early years with the MC, he’d drink most of his brothers under the table, but at forty, the accompanying hangover from twelve-plus hours of drinking sucked. But for Rusty’s homecoming, he’d make all the fucking exceptions in the world.
“Imagine how I fucking feel.” Rusty sipped his whiskey. His eyes closed and his throat worked before he let out a sigh. “Damn, first drink in five years. Thanks for breaking out the good shit for me.”
Copper snorted. “No better reason for it.” Had to be a total mind fuck, being behind bars one day and free to live life the next. “You holding up okay? You look good.”
After another sip, Rusty nodded. “Yeah, brother. Any day out of that hellhole is a good day. Got a lot of shit to sort out, but it’s all good.”
The rest of the guys had made themselves scarce, letting Copper and Rusty have some time to catch up. Seated at the bar in the clubhouse, they’d broken into the stash of Copper’s favorite whiskey he kept hidden in his bottom desk drawer.
“Well, no one has used your old room since you left. We kept it ready and waiting for you, so you don’t need to bother looking for a place to live.”
“Thanks, brother. I was hoping you’d say that.”
He hadn’t been lying. Rusty did look good. Better than Copper had expected. “You work out a lot in there? Looks like you put on a shit-ton of muscle.”
Rusty poured more whiskey into his glass. “Yeah. Hours every day. Not much else to do. Spending time in the yard beats hanging in the cell.”
Copper grunted.
“You should talk to Zach. Bet he’d love to have you on board. I know he’s looking to hire.”
“Shit, Cop, been out for ten fucking minutes. Give me a few days. Last five years I’ve been on my best fuckin’ behavior. Need to spend a few days making trouble. Work ain’t on my radar today. Pussy is. Where the fuck are the Honeys?”
Copper almost pushed it, but Rusty was right. He had nothing to compare the experience to, so he couldn’t pretend to understand what his brother was feeling. But if he had to guess, Rusty probably needed some time to get his head on straight. Having taken care of Rusty the majority of his life, Copper sometimes forgot his brother was an adult.
“Around. Had you told us you were coming early, we’d have planned a fuckin’ blowout for tonight.”
Rusty smirked. “Yeah, but your surprised face was fucking worth it.”
“Definitely was the surprise of a lifetime. Party’ll be Saturday night. Going all out for you, brother.”
“Fuck yes!” Rusty filled his glass again.
Two p.m. and Rusty drank seventy dollars’ worth of whiskey in fifteen minutes. And there Copper went acting like a father instead of a brother again. The man just spent five years behind bars. He was entitled to drink it all away.
