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I catch a glimpse of red hair in the mirror as I scramble to get off Tyke’s hands, the source of the woman’s voice turning away toward the counter.
He tightens his grip on me, jerking my state of semi-undress against his front so he effectively shields me from view. “Ain’t my fault you decided to be early for a change.”
Her head pops around the edge of the reflection again, long enough to say, “I’m ten minutes late opening, actually, so if you two could finish up whatever this is.” Red-tipped nails swirl in a circle before her. “That would be swell.”
“I’ll give you a minute,” Tyke rumbles close to my ear. “Don’t go gettin’ in your head about this shit, either.”
“I’m not.”
He meets my gaze in the mirror. “You fuckin’ are. I can see it. And I’m tellin’ you now, nobody cares. So don’t go feelin’ guilty about a beautiful moment, yeah?”
He leaves with a pat on my ass, tugging the curtain closed. I stand with pants around my thighs, hands clasped at my chest, as I work to level my breathing. I feel as though the cloying smell of sex is all around me, heavy over my shoulders like a fucking matador’s cape. All I can assume is that the woman is Murmur’s old lady, whoever he is. My brain does cartwheels, sifting through the memories of people in the clubhouse, names I was given and promptly forgotten.
Have I met him? Did I meet her?
Who will they tell? Not that it’s a secret, but it kind of is, isn’t it? I mean, I broached the subject with Maddie, but she doesn’t know the extent of it. What if she hears about this? Will that be the last hope of our friendship returning to normal, gone?
I’m in my head.Tyke’s stern warning echoes between my ears as I peel the leather pants off my legs and then tug my jeans back on. My panties feel twisted and damp against my sex, uncomfortable enough to serve as penance for my sin.
I wouldn’t say I’m shy in the bedroom, but public displays are a whole new level. One I wouldn’t have picked that I’d tick off any time soon.
My gaze finds the mirror, and I blanch. Who is this woman? I don’t fully recognize the vixen staring back at me. It could be argued that I’m finally living free, allowing myself to revel in the things that make me feel good. But why, then,don’tI feel good? Why do I wear a nervous grimace in place of a sated smile?
Because despite what they all say, I still don’t feel as though I deserve any of it.
Not Tyke’s love. Not Digger’s care. Not Maddie’s concern.
Inside, I’m still that nineteen-year-old girl being told it was her fault she was treated badly. ThatIwas the reason bad things happened.
And deep down. I’m still waiting for the worst thing of all.
Deep down, I’m waiting for all the good in my life to be ripped away. I’m waiting for them all to realize they were wrong.
About me.
About how they feel.
And about what I deserve.
45
DIGGER
“You doin’much, son?” Turnip strides across the room to where Harvey reclines on the sofa opposite mine.
Tyke’s youngest boy glances up at his honorary uncle and shakes his head. “Just havin’ a breather.”
We’ve toiled all morning to get rid of the scrap I had Rae pile up against the fence line. Again, what was prospect work, I took upon myself to oversee purely for the fucking reason I needed something to occupy both my hands and my mind. Two loads later, Harvey shoved eighty-four dollars into the kitty, and I could reason I’d made the yard look tidier before we head off in five days’ time.
Housekeeping. Nobody wants to do it, but we all feel a fuckload better when it’s done.
“Jamie needs a hand cataloging supplies for the run.” Turnip thumbs over his shoulder. “Think you could do that?”
“Sure.” Harvey’s on his damn feet before Turnip’s finished talking, snatching up his bottle of water and high tailing to where Minion’s daughter does a stock take.
He thinks he keeps it real subtle, but we’ve all known for months he has a thing for that girl. Can’t say I see it, consideringthe tomboy hides her young figure beneath her father’s old T-shirts and baggy jeans, but the girl does have a pretty smile, and we’ve all got a soft spot for the ragamuffin.
“Guess one of us should do the rounds and make sure the brothers’ gear is all in good working order.” I tip my chin at Turnip.
