Page 72 of Riding Bare

Heleni is freaking awesome. No wonder my brother likes her. She feeds me homemade sourdough bread with homemade chia seed jam, cheese, grapes, and a grilled chicken breast—reminding me I shouldn’t be eating deli meats right now. Afterward, we talk.

She tells me how she met my brother. He saved her life one night when she was on a blind date. Her car wouldn’t start… and as she says, the rest is history. But I’m very curious what that means. What history? Because I didn’t know she existed, and he very much lives in Arizona.

“This is so amazing. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for us,” I say.

Her lips curve up into a smile. I still cannot believe this hippie is into my brother and he’s into her, too. I love it, and I hope he doesn’t hurt her, because she seems really awesome.

“If you want to make me a list of some essentials, I can go to the store tomorrow. For now, I have a pair of lounge pants and an oversized shirt that should be comfortable for you to sleep in.”

Reaching across the small table, I curl my fingers around her wrist and hold on to her there. Focusing my gaze on hers, I hold my breath for just a moment as I really think about what she’s offering me. It’s everything, and I don’t know how to respond to it.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I don’t know how to repay your kindness, but maybe someday you’ll think of a way,” I murmur as tears fill my eyes.

Heleni shakes her head a couple of times, her eyes filling with wetness as well. She blinks a few times, and the tears roll down her cheeks instantly. She doesn’t try to wipe them away. She’s watching me with a small smile on her lips.

“Your peace is the only thanks I need, Chassis. Both you and the baby being healthy and happy is all I could ever ask for.”

Her front door opens, and my brother walks into the room, holding his phone against his ear. His eyes slide to meet mine, and I hear him grunt once, then twice, before he speaks again.

“She’s right here.”

Gauge shoves the burner phone toward me. Reaching for the device, I hold it against my ear. I don’t say anything as I watch Gauge and Heleni disappear down the hallway. Only when they’re out of earshot do I speak.

“Hello?” I don’t know why I’m even saying hello.

I know who is on the other end of the line. Gauge made it clear he would be calling him after he talked to our father. I have no idea what my father said, and I’ll be asking Gauge about that later. But for now, I’ll talk to my husband.

“What the fuck, sweetheart?” he asks.

I almost laugh, but I’m pretty sure he does not find this situation funny, and honestly, neither do I. What I did was stupid as hell. If I hadn’t gone to Samuil with some bullshit idea that I could change his mind, that I could ensure he wouldn’t do anything crazy—we wouldn’t be in this situation. But he did anyway, and it was all for naught.

“I’m sorry. All I wanted to do was help. And then he told me to leave. He said if I disappeared, both me and the baby were safe. Gauge thought we’d vanish and then figure out what to do next. We’re safe.”

“Skel,” he says, his tone a warning.

I know I’ve probably pissed him off, but I don’t care. I had good intentions. I tried really hard to make this right, this thing I fucked up.

“I just wanted this to be done,” I whisper the confession, the truth. “I thought I could handle it, but clearly…”

My voice trails off, and I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Saying the words makes me feel like an absolute idiot. I should have known that he would do some absolute bullshit. I should have seen it coming. But I had hope, and therein lies my problem.

Hope.

I hoped that Samuil wouldn’t be the absolute dick I knew he was. And here I fucking am. The dick is in full fucking swing, spreading that dickness all over. Then he got Rocky in with him, something I still don’t quite understand, but I wasn’t going to ask any probing questions because I didn’t want them to think I gave a shit about that bitch.

Even though I really wanted to know all the details about that situation.

“You should have come to me,” Dare murmurs, interrupting my thoughts. “I had a plan.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” I snap.

I’m not mad at him.

I’m pissed at myself.

Lifting my fingers to my mouth, I pinch my eyes closed, wondering if my tone was too harsh. I know my father wouldn’t accept it—even from me. He’d have something to say about it, at the very least.

“So what now?” I ask, softening my tone.