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I paused with my hand on the doorknob, looking over my shoulder at him. “Yeah?”
He smiled softly. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot.”
I smiled back before giving him the space to get some rest. Tyson and I were each other’s family. I’d always be there when he needed me. Just like he’d always be there for me. He couldn’t replace my parents, they were precious to me, but he was the surrogate father I needed when I lost them, and he never failed to show up.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I headed towards the stairs. Maybe Tyson was right. I needed to be a little more open to letting people in. Because with him being the only person I could rely on, I was setting myself up for heartache. If I lost him, I’d have no one. And it would break me.
CHAPTER 26
CLINK
After coming clean to the crew and to Sam, I was feeling raw and exposed, and it pissed me off. I headed for my room, hoping to find some remnants or leftovers that Sam and Reaper might’ve missed, just to clear my head. There wasn’t any. They made sure of that, and in a frustrated rage, I tossed my room upside down. That’s how Brewer found me, surrounded by my own chaos, sitting on the floor with my head in my hands and my elbows resting on my knees.
“Did a tornado pass through here?”
“Fuck off, man,” I mumbled.
He stepped into the room, dropping to sit beside me. “Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. You look like shit. I take it you were hopin’ for a hit?”
I didn’t even bother to look up at him. He knew the truth without me saying it. Hell, the whole damn crew knew it now. Who knew turning down Hammer’s offer would’ve tossed my life this severely?
“You ever feel like Mass was gunnin’ for an officer position?”
That came out of nowhere. With a frown, I sat up, leaning against my bed frame. “What?”
Brewer lifted his shoulder, the stoic mask hiding any actual emotions. “Just sayin’. He was doin’ a lot of shit in the background, stayin’ on everyone’s good side, bein’ your sponsor. Kinda feels like he was makin’ a play we didn't know about.”
I snorted. “Nah. Mass wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to lead. He was just a good brother. Besides, can you imagine him in charge? He’d get his ass handed to him in a blink of an eye. He was too relaxed.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Yeah. He was a fuckin’ knucklehead, that’s for sure.” He sighed, rolling his head to look at me. “Kinda feels like a front, though. A knucklehead doesn’t become someone’s sponsor, doesn’t watch out for his crew, and sacrifice his life to protect the women. It doesn’t match.”
Drawing in a breath, I let it out slowly. “I don’t think it was a front. I think he did it on purpose. He acted like a shithead to ease tension, help settle the crew. Hell, he even got Croy to crack a smile now and then. Not a play for power, but more a play to make things a little easier.”
Brewer hummed his acknowledgement. We didn’t really talk much about Mass after he died. Mass and I had been close, and it killed me when we lost him. Sometimes it bugged me how hush hush people were about him. Like they wanted to bury him and everything about him under the rug so we didn’t have to think about him anymore. Talking to Brewer about him felt good.
I blinked, and my brow furrowed. “Holy shit. Are you doing the therapy thing right now?”
When Brewer’s mouth twisted, hiding his smirk, I shoved his shoulder. “Fuck off with that shit, man. I don't need a therapist.”
He finally chuckled, lifting a shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me. You looked like a dejected puppy when I came in here.”
I rolled my eyes. “Where’d you learn that shit anyway? You got some secret therapist degree we don’t know about?”
Shaking his head, he pushed to his feet. “Nah. Used to be a bartender though, before I started prospecting. People like to talk when they’re down. Helps clear the air or whatever.” He offered me a hand, helping me to my feet. “I know you wanted to keep this shit to yourself, but don’t avoid going downstairs. No one’s judging you for having a relapse. Meeting with Hammer by yourself? That was stupid. People might talk shit about that. But not about the relapse.”
I growled, shoving my hands into my pocket. “I was gonna call. He said I was a little bitch callin’ my daddy. I took offense.”
Brewer scoffed. “He can’t fuckin’ talk when he’s the one hiding like a pussy and trying to poach members. Don’t listen to assholes not worth your time.”
With a hand on my shoulder, he led me downstairs to join the crew. I was tense, waiting for someone to say shit, but other than a few suspicious looks, no one said anything. Chase handed me a beer and a pool cue without a word and I joined him for a game until a certain someone came downstairs. I handed my shit to Brewer and shoved my hands into my pockets, approaching with caution. With the way she was glaring at me upstairs, I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t want anything to do with me.
She looked wary, her hand fluttering by her side anxiously. “Can we talk?”
Nodding, I tipped my head towards the backyard. Still within sight of the crew, but with enough space to give us privacy. Didn’t need an audience while she ripped me a new one.
She was still wearing my clothes, and it took work not to let it get to me. She stopped in the corner of the yard, spinning around to face me, a determined look on her face. I held my breath, watching her warily, until she stunned the shit out of me.
“I still like you.”
