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But Greer is right. Now I’m curious about the man Laurel’s marrying. Is he better-looking than me? Stronger? Does he have a bigger dick? More money? I’m not sure why it matters, but it does.
I haven’t been able to move on and start a new relationship. How can I when I don’t know what went wrong in the last one?
I need closure, just like Lyla suggested.
I get that my wife fucking someone else was only the result of a bigger problem in the relationship; whether it was hers or ours is irrelevant now. I was gone, she was lonely. I think she even blamed me being away for her affair, but I was too pissed to hear it.
She knew what she was getting into when she agreed to marry me.
Didn’t she?
I hadn’t signed my contract with the army yet, but she knew I was going to soon. My original plan was to have a military career, put in at least twenty years of service. That didn’t happen. I’m not sure why I didn’t sign on for another tour. I just wanted to come home.
Laurel tried to talk me out of signing up in the first place. Then, she refused to live on the base, so that left us with trying to make a long-distance marriage work.
God, I was an idiot to not notice all the red flags.
But I thought I loved her, that she was forever.
Tomorrow, once I see her with her new husband, hopefully I’ll finally be set free from the chokehold she’s had on me once and for all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lyla
“Laurel is pissed you’re late.” I stand up from the bench as I extend a warning to our father. Wearing his usual grungy jeans and leather biker vest, he surveys the crowded restaurant that’s been rented out for the night. None of the people here are my friends. Laurel wouldn’t even let me invite my best friend, Holly, to the wedding, much less the rehearsal dinner. “Where have you been?” I ask him.
His jaw clenches underneath his beard, which has grown grayer over the last few months. “I had some business to take care of before I could call it a day.”
“Of course,” I reply, not the least bit surprised that “business” has kept him away yet again or that he refuses to give me specifics. It’s been like this my entire life. The MC comes first, before Isaac Perry’s family. He says everything he does for the club is for our family, to take care of us, to earn a living. Sometimes, though, I think he justenjoys being in charge, being feared, having people jump when he says jump.
I don’t get it, the culture of violence or the weird hierarchy and subservience. But then, I’ve never been much of a rule follower. Whenever I was told specifically not to do something by my father, grandmother, or by teachers when I was still in school, I would do it just for spite.
The only rule I wouldn’t ever break is cheating on someone when we’re supposed to be in a committed relationship. That’s not really a rule, though; that’s just…common decency.
That’s why I don’t want any part of a relationship. I’m not convinced that common decency still exists in the world. Everyone’s just so selfish.
“Lyla, have you met Thane?” my father asks, referring to the man walking in behind him. He’s in my face before I have a chance to run away. Oh, hell no. Is he going to try and set me up again?
What sort of father encourages his daughter to date a member of a biker club? One who can control them like puppets, that’s who.
As president, none of the guys do anything without my father’s explicit knowledge or approval.
“Hi, Lyla,” the six-foot-tall man with bare arms covered in tattoos says to me.
“Hi. And yes, Dad. I have met him before,” I say as I flash him a very brief but polite smile.
Sure, his lean face is attractive, even though his hair is kept way too short, shaved down close to his skull. And, yeah, his body is muscular and yummy. He’s actually a slightly smaller version of Barrett Fulton, although I’m not sure why I thought of him for the comparison.
Anyway, the problem with Thane is that despite his good looks, he’s also a little foot soldier in my father’s Harley-riding army. He does whatever his president tells him to do and lives in fear of pissing him off, as if my father is some sort of god.
“Thane here just earned his Devil Hounds patches,” my fathersays as he slaps the man on the back of his leather cut, urging him another step closer to me.
“I just patched in,” the brightly smiling minion repeats as if I didn’t hear it or understand it the first time.
“Good for you.”
“Grandma told me about the dress situation,” my dad goes on to say. “I’m sorry you have to sit out tomorrow.”
