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But when I pulled away, I was met with the reality of the situation. His eye was swelling more by the minute and I knew he’d never tell me how he got it.
“I got to get back to work,” I said.
“Emma, please stay.”
“Listen, I know you can’t or won’t tell me what happened,” I said. “But it still frustrates me. I see you hurting and I want to help, but if you can’t or won’t let me, then there’s nothing I can do but go back to work.”
“I don’t want you tangled up in this. None of us do. But I had to see you. To feel you against me.”
“And now you have. I have to work, Jacob. I can’t lose my job. Not right now,” I said.
Then I got up from his lap, slid from the booth, and went back to work. Jacob sat in that booth all night, ordering beer after beer like it was water. Lindy tended to my mother while we gathered up our tips, but eventually, Jacob got up and left. He seemed to be walking fine, so I wasn’t worried about him driving drunk, but I knew things weren’t okay.
CHAPTER 24
I felt a mixture of emotions when I woke up the next morning. None of the other brothers had come into the bar, only Jacob and his black eye. I was worried for them and saddened at the fact that they couldn’t trust me. But part of me was excited. Things were about to really get moving with the business and my apartment. I was counting down the days until I had my own place, and once the renovations on the building began, Lindy and I could put in our two-week notice at work.
It was so close I could taste it.
I wanted to know what was going on with the guys, though. It felt like they only opened up when it came to sex. They were giving me all this money and fucking me into oblivion, but when it came to the important shit, they weren’t letting me in. Sure, the twins told me about their mother, but that was the only insight I had into their lives.
It made me feel empty inside.
I wanted to know what was happening so I wasn’t in a constant state of worry. Those guys meant something to me, so they had to know I would worry about them. They weren’t stupid.
My thoughts warred inside my head. I knew the lifestyle, I loved the lifestyle. I’d dated bikers before and I’d understood the rules of it. Something about these particular bikers was very different though. It wasn’t just a bunch of dumb kids having fun. It was something much more than that. The sex was mind-blowing, and the time I spent with them all outside of the bedroom had substance. I’d trusted them with some pretty intimate details of my life; good, bad, and ugly. Most importantly, I’d shared my dreams with them, and they’d done nothing but support me. I guess part of me felt like I’d earned a little more trust than they were giving me.
I reached over for my phone to check the time. I still had three hours before I had to be at work, which meant I could lay in bed and wallow in self-pity. I’d given up on my mother. For years, I’d wanted her to be decent. I wanted her to support me and not try to crush my dreams. I wanted a mother that I could talk to about boys instead of always wondering if she was going to fuck the guy I was crushing on. But she was never going to change, and I was never going to get her support. It was simply time for me to cut my losses, move on, and never look back.
I had a business that was about to get off the ground and men I would need to talk to regarding serious amounts of cash. I had renovations coming up and a new apartment to style. Plus, I had to decide with Lindy about when we were going to start ordering all the new inventory.
That was what I could do.
I could call Lindy to get my mind off shit.
“Hello?”
“Morning,” I said.
“I’m not even up yet. Can this wait?” Lindy asked.
“Now you know how I feel every damn morning you come over. Stretch and listen. I want to talk shop,” I said.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. You mentioned pink leather the other night. About it being our one high-end item, and I like that idea. You got any others?”
“Oh, yeah. Tons. I’ve actually been drawing up some designs for clothes.”
“What?” I asked.
“Yeah. They’re basic things, but I figured giving the manufacturers something to look at would be easier than trying to explain shit. Hold on. I’ll text the pictures to you.”
My phone started pinging as picture after picture came through. I put Lindy on speakerphone and scrolled through them, astounded at what I was looking at. Customized lace-up boots and cut-off jeans with rhinestone designs. Ideas for the pink leather items and all sorts of fucking logos and shit for the backs of leather jackets.
“Are those fucking leather leggings?” I asked.
“You like them? They’re beyond easy to make. Cheap, but not cheap, if you get what I’m saying. They can come in different colors and sizes, not to mention adorned with different patches and stuff,” Lindy said.
