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I take the envelope and tuck it into the pocket inside my cut, then I down the last of my whiskey, holding up my glass for Storm to come to fill it. I don’t know if I’m doing it because I’m thirsty for another or just because I wanna poke the fuckin' bear.
Let the boy get off his chest what he’s thinking.
The kid’s skitty and got one hell of a temper. He wasn't too afraid to come looking for Brax after he’d killed the man who was the only link to him finding his sister.
Maybe I want him to come at me. I don’t think I’d even bother fighting back. Hell, I deserve a fucking punch for the thoughts I’ve had going through my head lately.
“How’s the girl holding up?” Thorne asks. I respond with a side glance and a shrug. How am I supposed to know how she’s holding up? She looks like she wants to cry most of the time, probably because I’m being such a jerk to her.
Storm steps between us and pours a decent-sized measure into my glass.
“You alright, kid?” Thorne slaps him on the back, but Storm doesn’t respond, just glares at me like he wants to cause me some damage.
“You got something you wanna say, kid?” I look up at him. The little shit has the brass balls to fucking snigger, taking a long swig from the bottle before he heads back to his stool at the end of the bar. I clench my fist around my glass and move to stand up. I’m gonna teach the young buck a lesson on respect. But before I can get up, Thorne eases me back down.
“Kid’s just disappointed he ain’t got his sister back. This can't be easy on him. I know how it feels,” he points out.
It ain’t ever spoken about, but Thorne lost a sister too. Not to death or to sex traffickers, but to a Bastard. Apparently, she used to be one of the family around here. It was before me and Squealer arrived. The club was smaller back then. It ran out of a bar in town, and his sister didn’t just betray her family. She broke her brother's heart when she fell for a member of our rival club.
Thorne never talks about it, so he must be feeling a lot of empathy for Storm to bring it up.
I finish my drink and nod back to Thorne, letting him know the boy’s got a free pass. Then I leave, hoping that when I get back to my cabin, Lydia will be sleeping. I don't want to have to take another fucking cold shower.
I ride up to the cabins and park my bike outside mine. Just knowing she’s inside suffocates me, but not enough to stop me from opening the door. I half expect her to be sitting up waiting for me, and I ignore the part of me that’s disappointed when she’s not, as I kick off my boots and discard my cut.
I’m tired as hell. The sooner I can get to sleep the better, but when I step into my room and see her there, my whole body goes rigid.
She’s so small and defenseless, and I can’t help liking the way she looks in my bed, even if it’s wrong of me.
I want to get in beside her, let my skin connect with hers again. Feel that calm as I breathe her in. But I stay in my door frame and watch her, torturing myself until it hurts too much, and I leave her to sleep.
I slouch down on the couch, staring into the darkness, trying not to recall the fear she saw when she thought I was gonna use my belt to hurt her. The memories that shit causes make me tense. Rick loved using his belt, and he usually did it to Squealer, knowing that’s what hurt me the most. He’d stare at me, desperate for a reaction while he thrashed him for doing something trivial.
If I could kill that fucker all over again, I would. One time will never feel like enough. Not for me, and not for Beth. Maybe I did belong in the nuthouse where they sent me. Maybe I should still be there now.
The only reason I fought so hard to get out of there was because I knew how much Squealer hated it, and the stupid motherfucker wouldn’t have left without me. My crazy-as-shit brother did some real messed-up shit in order to keep himself in there with me for so long.
I thought I belonged here at the club–that I’d found an outlet for the anger inside me. The people here don't judge, they accept me for who I am. I never tried to be like them, and they’ve never expected me to be.
My tortured soul has existed among them for over fifteen years. But the girl in my bed is making me want more than just an existence. She’s making me want to live. She’s making me want that feeling I had this afternoon when I let go and allowed myself to touch her. And, as much as I hate the pressure of her depending on me, it’s put something inside me that’s never been there before. Something that makes me want to be a better man.
A man who deserves her.
When I close my eyes, it’s her I see, holding out her hand like she wants me to take it. I want to, but I’m scared because if I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to let go again. She's already remembered her name. It won’t be long until she remembers more about her past life. Then she’ll leave me and be reunited with her family. The people who deserve to love her.
And I’ll just go back to existing.
I wake up to pounding in my ears, and it takes me a while to realize that it’s the door and not my head. I don’t want whoever it is to wake Lydia, so I rush up to open it. Alex greets me with a smile as she shoves a pile of clothes at me.
“They’re for your house guest. Figured since I won't be needing them for a while, she might as well get some use out of them. How is she?”
Since I've spoken up at the club, people are treating me differently. They’re asking me questions and expecting me to answer them. It makes me uncomfortable, but I see how happy it’s making Squealer, and I owe him, so I’ll try.
“Thanks.” I force out the words, looking at the heap of clothes that have been dumped in my arms. I’ve gotten kinda used to Lydia walking around in my clothes, but I'm sure she’d prefer something more feminine.
“I can come back and talk to her later if she’s asleep.” Alex looks over my shoulder like she's waiting for an invitation to come in.
“I’ll text Squealer when she wakes up.” I nod my gratitude before closing the door and placing the clothes on the table. Then, flicking on the coffee machine, I take an extra mug from the unit and make one for her too. When it’s ready, I place it on the bedside table next to where she’s sleeping, then stand and wait for her to open her eyes.
