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Wishing I could be different.
I think about Nyx and what I’m doing to him. He’s my brother, he got a wife and kid and he just rode out with me to help me save Gracie without giving it a second thought.
This club is where we belong. I want to be part of his life no matter how much I tell myself I don’t. I’ve spent my adult life telling myself I owe it to him and Mom to take Chop’s life. To make Chop suffer for what he did to our family. Convinced myself that I deserve it more than anyone… more than Skid for fuck’s sake. What’s wrong with me?
Am I really prepared to go against this club to get that? The Souls were the only family I had during the years I was searching for Nyx, it didn’t matter what Charter I was bunking at. I've always had a home with ‘em.
I take myself up to one of the rooms on the second floor of the club. They’re used for fucking, but I manage to find one free and lock the door so I won’t be disturbed. Lying out on the bed, I pull my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling.
I want to fix things for me and Gracie, but is loving her enough to make things work out for us?
If I stand any chance, I got to start listening to the people around me, and I act fast before I get the chance to change my mind.
Taking my cell out from my cut pocket, I scroll through the contacts till I get to Skid’s number. My finger hovers over the call button before pressing it. And I swallow hard when he answers, sounding groggy.
“Skid, it’s Brax, I got a lead on Chop. He checked into a motel on interstate 70 a few days ago. He was still there this morning,” I tell him, closing my eyes and feeling the tears pinch. Vex is right. I gotta take the hate out my heart and the vengeance out my soul before I can be the man Gracie deserves.
“That’s not far from the club,” Skid sounds much more awake now.
“I know, he’s ballsy I’ll give him that. How quick can you get there?”
“Couple hours.” Skid answers back and then there’s silence. The hurt inside me don’t stop, but the feeling of fucking hope that I’ve blanked out for so long wakes the fuck up.
“Brax, thanks for this,” Skid adds.
“Make him pay, Skid. For all of us,” I tell him.
“Oh, he’ll pay,” he tells me with a confidence I believe in. I hang up the phone before I slam my fist into the wall. It’s done, regardless of whether Skid gets to Chop or if he’s too late, my life’s fucking mission ends here. Chop will no longer be my reward. Skid needs it more than I do. I understand that now, seeing a knife pressed against the throat of the woman you love will do that to a man.
And now I just gotta put my focus in finding a way to exist without the purpose of pain.
I toss and turn all night, being in his bed without him by my side doesn’t seem right. I feel him clawing at my heart and making me want to heal all the hurt inside him.
When I roll over and check the alarm, it’s 5AM. I’ve probably had about an hour’s sleep. The nerves in my stomach, and the unease in my heart are too active for me to rest. I get out of bed, and when Brax is nowhere to be seen in the living area, I check out on the deck.
Nothing.
I throw on one of Brax’s hoodies and leave the cabin. It’s still dark outside and Duke trots along beside me as I follow the track that leads to the clubhouse.
The sun is pushing to come up and brighten the sky ready for the start of a new day, and I wonder where Brax is. As much as I want to give him space, I really want to tell him what I’d thought about all night, and the decision I’ve made.
I wander down the long track, and feel a huge relief when I find him sitting on a log looking into the ashes of the large fire pit. He doesn’t look up as I approach, his eyes remaining focused on the cinders in front of him. And Duke automatically rests by his side
When I sit beside him, he doesn’t respond at all and we spend the longest time sitting in silence.
“I’ve decided to move into the spare cabin, until the agency has been dealt with.” I break the silence first. Brax remains staring forward, chewing on the side of his lip as he nods like what I’ve just said makes sense.
“And then?” he asks, crossing his hands where they hang between his knees.
“I’ll leave town, start up somewhere else. My aunt offered for me to go stay with her after the funeral, or I have a friend in Florida I could go stay with.”
“And that’s what you want?” He refuses to look at me, still staring at the fucking pile of ashes.
“Maybe it’s about time I learned that I can’t always get what I want.” I nudge his shoulder playfully, trying to pry a smile out of him, and what I get is a weak attempt at a fake one.
“You need to promise me something though,” I add, and wait for him to turn his head and look at me before I tell him what that something is. “I can’t have you regret us, ever. Not everyone gets a happily ever after, some just get some real good memories.”
“We got some bad ones too,” he reminds me.
