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I can never be sure what he’s thinking, but he must sense what's between us is strengthening. He wouldn't have kissed me like he did when he woke from his nightmare or held me in his arms all night if he didn’t.
What I do know is that Screwy is battling a war in his head, and I want to help him.
“Is this the route we’ll take if we get Maddy's text?” I ask, trying to break the silence.
“Yeah, the Prospects cleared it a few days ago,” he answers, focusing on the track as we bounce over the rough terrain.
“What’s a Prospect?” I ask, twisting my fingers together on my lap. I don’t want to be annoying by asking questions, but I’m nervous about what’s coming, and I need a distraction.
“Prospects are people who want into the club. They’re usually young, like Storm, but you get people who want to come into the life a little later on too,” he explains. Still not looking at me. “They gotta prove they’re ready before they get a full cut and a seat at the table, though.”
“The life?” I question, confused by his choice of words.
“Yeah, being a member ain’t just about being part of a club– it’s a lifestyle. One that, if you can’t handle it, will end you up dead. You gotta be prepared to die for the people you share your cut with. If you're in this club, you live, you breathe, and you die for it.” He speaks his words like a warning as his tattooed fingers grip the steering wheel.
“And what made you choose the life?” I ask, intrigued. The darkness inside Screwy should have me running scared, but instead, it draws me in. I want to know him… all of him. The good, the bad, and the worst. I’ve known evil, I’ve seen it, and I’ve lived it. This man, who saved me, may be a killer; and I'm sure he’d kill again, but he isn't evil.
“Tell me, what made you choose this life?” I ask again when it becomes obvious that he’s avoiding my question.
“Because I couldn’t live the life I had before, no more.” He’s staring at me now, his eyes deep and heavy with sorrow. I want to crawl inside him and unearth all his secrets, and then I want to save him from them.
I want to ask him if he feels the same way I do and if when he holds me, he means it. But most of all, I want to know what will become of us.
I just can’t push him. It’s clear that Screwy wrestles with his demons every day. He keeps them locked in, but I see them on his face, and I feel them festering inside him.
I don’t ask any more questions, and we make the rest of the trip in silence. We come to a clearing, and Screwy parks his truck outside a cabin that's much larger than the ones back at the compound. It has a huge porch built all the way around it, and the views up here are amazing.
“This is where Grace lives?” I check when Screwy opens my door and takes my hand to help me down.
“Yeah, it’s where you’ll come if you need to get away from the club.” He looks annoyed by that as he keeps my hand in his and leads me to the front door.
Brax appears out of the barn next to the house, wearing a white tank top and faded jeans. He’s got a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, and he tosses a filthy rag over his shoulder. He lifts his head up at Screwy in that greeting they all seem to give each other, but his eyebrows remain knitted together.
“Lyd wants to talk to your old lady. She around?” Screwy calls over. It’s hard to imagine how he coped before he spoke to people around here. I know Squealer would have spoken up for him, but still, it must have been so lonely. I wonder what it was that made things change? I can’t believe that it was just me. There has to be more to it.
“She’s inside, go on in.” He looks at me, then takes the rag from his shoulders and wipes his hands with it. “I’m changing the piston on the Triumph. You wanna give me a hand?” He looks back up at Screwy, who immediately turns his attention to me. I practically begged him to come here with me. I like having him close and didn’t want to break the bond I felt we’d made last night by him leaving me again.
It’s selfish of me, especially when I know how much it hurt him to hear about my past last time something came out. The fact he’d sit beside me and do that to himself means the world to me.
“I’ll be fine from here,” I tell him, letting go of his hand. “Go help Brax.”
“I’ll be right here. You need me, you find me. And…” I watch his jaw tense as he swallows heavily. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Promise.” I smile up at him and then nod over to Brax before I head up the steps onto the porch, gently tapping the door as I let myself in.
I find Grace lying on the couch with an open book in her hand and a huge scraggy dog laid out on her lap.
“Lydia.” She sits up, looking pleased to see me.
“I heard someone pull up. I figured it was one of the Prospects. You okay?” She shifts the dog from her lap, and it trots towards me, taking a quick sniff of my hand before he settles in his bed beside the fireplace.
“I’m fine. I came here to ask you a favor.”
“Sure. How can I help?” Grace smiles at me, standing up from the couch and heading to the table in her open-plan kitchen. This place really is beautiful.
“I wondered if the offer to talk still stands. I don’t want to impose. I know it's your job, and if today is your day off, I can come back.” I suddenly feel guilty for springing this on her. She looked so relaxed when I came in.
“Don’t be silly. It’s only my job when I’m speaking to a client. We’re friends, right?”
