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I guess it was intense.
Sometimes it was easy to forget that the club lived differently, by a different set of rules than the world around us. Maybe it did seem a little overboard to outsiders, or maybe they’ve just never known what it’s like to have a family as strong as mine. A family willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people in it.
And now, that was her.
She cleared her throat as she walked over to the large windows overlooking the street and Boston Public Park. The building was old, built in the 1880s and converted years ago into condos.
Reed owned the top three floors and had renovated it to be modern but keep the highlights of its better days. “I’ve never been in a place this fancy before,” she admitted with a smile, shaking her head as she leaned into the window, her eyes flickering from one spot to another as she tried to take everything in.
“Yeah, I’m thinking about buying something similar a couple of streets away.”
She spun around, her eyes fixated on me. “You’re moving to Boston?”
“Maybe,” I answered with a shrug. “The pull has been here for a long time, but I think I might have finally felt the last tug that solidified it.”
She couldn’t cover her smile, though she tried. “This feels weird.” My eyebrows shot up and, instantly, so did her hands. “No. I mean, the things you’re doing for me. Helping me chase down my friend in the middle of the night. Risking an ass-kicking to tell Danny he was done. Paying for a lawyer I know I could never afford and standing by me when you could’ve already announced to the world that ourengagementwasn’t real so your business and your name wouldn’t be attached to the crazy bitch who murdered her ex-boyfriend.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “So it feels weird to be treated like a woman who’s worth something?”
“Sometimes it still feels weird to be treated like a human.”
I wasn’t expecting that answer. I also wasn’t expecting how it filled me with rage, my self-control in those few seconds struggling to keep from tossing Reed’s vintage, probably one-of-a-kind furniture across the room. “It was bad,” I stated, knowing it would sound fucking stupid as a question after yesterday.
“Not at first,” she answered with a frown. Her gaze drifted off though her brow continued to pinch between her eyes. “At first, he was amazing. Attentive. Encouraging. At least, that’s what I thought it was at the time. For six months, I thought I’d won the lottery. Then we had an argument because I’d gone out to dinner with my sister for her birthday and had a couple of drinks at a bar afterward.”
I swear I could feel what was coming, the muscles in my shoulders tightening as if preparing my body for a blow.
“There had been times before where he’d been upset, but by the next day, he seemed to calm down, and we sorted it out. But that night was the first night he hit me.” She let out a huff which I think was meant to be a laugh, but it almost sounded painful. “He broke one of my ribs.”
“And you fought back,” I argued, taking a step toward her and drawing her attention back to me, her eyes blinking like she’d been lost in some kind of daydream.
She scoffed and shook her head. “After two years. I let him break me, torture me, treat me like trash. I let him come between me and my sister, my mom, plus friends I’d had since I was a baby. I still haven’t been able to look any of them in the eye because of how much I hurt them. Pushing them away so they wouldn’t have to watch me put that bastard first. I make myself fucking sick.”
My feet were moving before I knew it, crossing the room and hooking my arms around her waist, lifting her off the floor. She didn’t argue or protest, her legs wrapping around me, one of her arms circling my neck as I pressed her gently against the wall.
“Stop it,” I growled, leaning my forehead against hers. “You need to cut that shit out now. You did what you had to do to survive, and fuck, do you know how many people would’ve just laid down and given up?”
I could see that thought processing in her mind.
Like maybe she’d never seen it that way before.
As a survivor, not a victim.
Though with the ex’s brother now floating around talking a big game and making threats, I wasn’t about to let her become either for a second time.
“Come on,” I announced, slowly lowering her to her feet though I wanted to do everything to show her just how fucking strong she was.
There was time.
My father always said that was the difference between Ripley and me.
Rip swung first, asked questions later.
I asked questions, then used the answers to destroy them. I guess it took longer than Rip’s instant gratification, but fists were just a momentary deterrent. I was always willing to play the long game if it meant really getting beneath someone’s skin and making sure they never fucked with the people I cared about again.
“You need to eat and get your things together before we catch our plane later.” I walked out of the room, hearing a quiet cuss behind me before the patter of footsteps.
“What do you mean plane?”
