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“Because I take care of everything around the clubhouse!”
“I know.” I hold out my hands in a soothing, calm-down sort of gesture which, judging by the heat in her eyes, seems to be pissing her off even more. “Everyone appreciates it. The girls all love you.”
Her gaze narrows at a spot on her leg and she swipes her fingers over her knee. “I love them too,” she says quietly.
Thank God. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.” She lifts her chin and glares at me. “You’re going to patch Emily and she won’t even appreciate the significance.”
Holy fuck. How did I never see this coming from her? “Christ, Swan. I haven’t gotten that far, yet.” Even if I had, it’s really not her business.
“You will. I can see it.”
“Five minutes ago you told me I was comfortable. You really want to wear a patch from someone who’s the equivalent of a recliner to you?”
“Pfft.” She flicks her fingers in the air, dismissing the question. “Love is a lie. I feel safe around you. Comfortable. Is that so bad?”
“For friends, no. I’m glad you feel that way. You know I’d never let anything happen to you. None of us would.”
She nods once. “I know.”
Fuck, what a mess. Who do I even talk to about this? Rock has enough to worry about. Wrath might decide Swan’s attitude makes her a liability. Underneath his gruff exterior, Murphy’s basically a big, bearded teddy bear—I could probably discuss it with him and get his perspective. But he also has a lot going on. Teller’s consumed with worrying about Charlotte’s pregnancy. Grinder and Rooster don’t know Swan well. Hope will want to smother Swan with big sister affection—and somehow, I don’t think that will solve this problem. I can’t burden Trinity with it either—it’ll probably make her feel bad.
“You want me to wring Carter’s neck?” I ask.
She scoffs. “No. It’s just annoying that Bianca’s known him forever and only took him seriously once he showed interest in someone else. That’s the only reason she started showing up here on amateur night.” She rolls her eyes. “And he’s like trauma-bonded or something with June.”
“Well, he did lose a toe. And fuck knows what those freaks did to her. So I can understand why they’re tight.”
She winces. “I know. Please don’t tell him I said any of this.”
“I won’t.” Honestly, I want to forget this whole thing happened. “I’m here if you want to talk. As a friend,” I add, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea again.
“Zamolchi,” she mutters.
“Did you just call me an asshole in Russian?”
The corners of her mouth twitch. “No. Even if I’m mad at you, I don’t think you’re an asshole.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“If anyone’s the asshole today, it’s me.”
“I don’t think that. You’re just going through something.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I’m a hundred in stripper years and about eighty-two in club whore years, so I’m due for a midlife crisis.”
Again with the whore bullshit. “Did you hear nothing I said?”
“I heard you.” She taps the side of her head. “It’ll take a while to sink in.”
Every word out of her mouth is both killing me and pushing me farther away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Emily
To save time today, Libby and I stayed over at Serena and Grinder’s house last night. Worry about what I’d say or do when I see Dex at the baptism kept me up and staring at the unfamiliar ceiling all night.
“I love their yard,” Libby says, staring out of the window in my room.
“It’s nice,” I agree. “Do you need help getting ready?”
She glares at me and lifts her casted arm. “My arm is broken. I still know how to dress myself.”
I’m really not in the mood for more attitude from her. It’s been like this for days…well, since she came home from the hospital. Maybe she blames me for the accident as much as I blame myself?
From somewhere down the hall, baby Lincoln lets out a grumpy wail. “Poor little guy has no idea what’s in store for him today,” I mutter.
Libby chuckles. “At least they’re not making him wear one of those white potato sacks. The little suit Serena got him is so stinkin’ cuuuute.”
“True. He’ll be the most dapper little baby boy.”
“Are you still wearing the blue dress with the flowers?” Libby asks.
“It’s the only dress I brought with me. Why? You don’t think it’s appropriate?” I’m already anxious about being on display in front of everyone. And running into Dex. Don’t forget that part.
“Geez, Em, chill. No, I think it looks nice on you. Very proper and godmotherly. But the material’s thin and it looks chilly out. Did you bring a sweater or something?”
I blink and stare. Who is this person and what did she do with my sister? “Yes, it’s yellow to match my shoes.”
“I still don’t know how you can walk in those heels, but you’ll look really pretty.” She turns and walks into the bathroom adjoining both of our rooms and closes the door behind her.
