Page 30 of Always Was Mine

“Doesn’t have to be like this, Vicky.”

“Yes, it does. I hate you, Carson. Ihateyou,” I tell him with as much anger I can muster right now.

His hands tighten on his steering wheel.

“Even if I had stayed and talked to you first about getting a divorce, would you have let me go?” I ask, honestly wanting to know.

“Never.”

“That’s what I thought. How can you want to stay married to someone that hates you? I would rather kill myself than to ever let you touch me again.”

“Let’s go back to you ignoring me!” Carson snaps.

“Fine by me,” I mutter under my breath, “Fucking prick.”

**

Took two days to get back to our home in New Brunswick, after our chat the first leg of the drive, he just filled up the gas tank and kept driving until he started to fall asleep. We only stopped at a hotel once, and thankfully the room had two beds. No way I was letting him touch me. The entire drive back here, I kept thinking about Trevor, and how he was actuallymyTrevor, my lost love, the man I thought was dead for twelve years. I kept remembering all of the times we had together growing up, and compared them to the months I just spent with him. He was the same, the same boy I fell in love with. God, I miss him already. I should have stayed, tried to fight Carson more, something. Now Trevor thinks I really do love his brother.

I’m still upset and angry that he let me believe all this time he was dead. That the months we’ve spent together he never once came clean about who he was. Looking back at our time together, it’s obvious he wasmyTrevor. The little things he did, our first date, all of it.

I hope one day I can be with him without Carson being in our lives, but that’s just wishful thinking. Carson won’t ever let me go.

Snapping out of my thoughts about Trevor, I look around and realize we’re in the clubhouse compound, a place I’ve never been before because I wasn’t allowed. Carson drags me inside his clubhouse where he says everyone is waiting for me. I have a bad feeling about this. The outside looks well kept, a huge wooden fence makes it so you can’t see inside the lot unless the gates are opened. Bikes and cars fill the lot, the building is huge, so huge, it looks like a giant warehouse store.

“You’re to not say a fuckin’ word in there, got me? You don’t speak unless they demand it. So far only Megan wants a go at you, but if others want a go, you’re to fuckin’ take it.”

I stiffen at his words. “What?” I whisper.

“You ran away, you know the consequences for that shit. You’re just lucky I told them no weapons tonight, or you’d actually be dead,” he says darkly.

I gulp, suddenly more terrified than I have ever felt in my entire life.

Outside the doors I can hear people inside having a good time. Laughter, chatter, but the second Carson drags me in, it goes deathly silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone glares at me. I glance around the room and notice the space we’re in is a giant living room/ bar/ games room. TVs line the walls, eight couches, and many pool tables are everywhere, on top of a full blown bar area. Behind the bar, there are tons of photos of the club members, including mug shots.

Dillon steps forward, he’s also known as Rage in the club. “Took a vote, only Megan wants a go at her. Everyone else doesn’t give a shit about her so we’re not wasting our time on that shit.”

Carson nods and shoves me slightly in Megan’s direction. She glares at me and before I can say anything to her she punches me in the face. I stumble backwards, and my hand moves up, cupping my face. “Well, I didn’t think I could hit that hard, but look at that, I split the skin open. Cool. I’m done,” Megan says and walks away.

“Let’s go,” Carson growls and tugs me with him.

We drive home in silence and walk into our home. “Go to the kitchen, get some ice for that,” he says quietly.

Hangman

I didn’t like seeing the mark Megan left on Vicky’s face, but at the same time, she deserved it. She already hates me enough as it is, so I wasn’t going to be the one to hand her punishment. I was thankful only Megan wanted a go at her. She got off lucky.

Vicky moves around the house quietly, refusing to speak. I hear her in the bathroom, going through the medicine cabinet, probably looking for shit to clean up with. I go down the hall and into the bathroom.

“Let me help.” I take the peroxide and cotton ball out of her hand. She flinches as my fingers graze her hands.

She keeps her eyes closed as I clean up the cut on her cheek and apply a bandage. I grab the ice pack off the counter and hold it to her face. She immediately steps away from me, grabbing the ice. “Thanks, I have it now.”

“Vicky.”

“Just don’t, okay? Just don’t. I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”

“I just want to talk,” I tell her, following her out of the bathroom and down to the guest room. “Where the fuck you goin’, you sleep in our room.”

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