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“We need to talk,” Irish stated, and I could see she was uncomfortable.
Well, tough, I didn’t want her here.
“Idon’t need to do anything. I walked away from Slick; he’s all yours. Irish, you won, now not being rude, but fuck off,” I snapped.
For a brief instant, Irish looked amused. That rankled. This woman could snap me in two without breaking a sweat, I knew that, but I wasn’t taking shit anymore. My anger was welling, and I felt Dad and Uncle Brian nodding in approval.
“Slick needs us both. He’s mourning,” Irish said.
“He’s grieving?Slick is? Seriously? Two weeks ago, Irish, I buried the last member of my family who gave a shit about me. I don’t give a flying fuck if Slick is broken-hearted, fucking ten different women, or whatever. Because of the Venomous Fangs, I have no family left. So, let’s see who’s grieving. I watched myuncle take a bullet for me as he tried to save me because I was dragged into a war that had nothing to do with me!”
“I get that, Summer, and I’m sorry about your uncle’s death. Slick would have given his own life to avoid that. You weren’t the only one taken, Summer. I was, too. Rage came for you and left me because they knew whatever happened to me, I’d survive, but you wouldn’t. I’m not bitter Rage chose you to save first. I’d have kicked their asses if they’d done anything different,” Irish said.
“Well, good for you. How magnanimous. But you fucked up. If Rage had come for you, I’d have been dead, and you’d be free to give Slick all the comfort he needed,” I snapped bitterly and bent to move a pot that was annoying me with its placement.
“And that’s why I’m here. Because I can’t give Slick that. Only you can,” Irish said.
My head snapped up. Did that mean Irish was walking away?
“Can we grab a coffee or something and talk? Please, I have some stuff to say, and I think you should be sitting,” Irish continued.
“The truth is, Irish, I don’t want to be around you. I know you didn’t deliberately go out of your way to snare Slick. But you’re still the other woman in this mess. No, I don’t want to sit down and get a coffee and gab with you. I just wish you would leave,” I said honestly.
Irish nodded.
“Could you kill a man?” Irish asked.
I blinked at the strange question. Who was this woman?
“No. Not in cold blood,” I replied.
“I can and have. See, all I know is darkness. My dad was killed in a road accident, and I hunted down the guy who took his life, and I took his in revenge. I was recruited by a government agency and taught to hone that killing skill. Then, a few years ago, I was twenty-three when I came home and noticed bikesturning the corner. A gut feeling told me something bad had gone down.
“I discovered my mother, stripped naked, bruised, battered, and raped multiple times. She’d been sodomised, too, and her sightless eyes were staring at me as I stood in her bedroom doorway. Tied to a chair, his eyes glued open, beaten to a pulp, was my grandfather. He’d been tortured and forced to watch what was done to my mother. He wasn’t her father, but he loved her like he was.
“Those bikers were Venomous Fangs, and that day, I vowed to bring them down. When I buried them both next to my father, I also buried the part of me they’d loved. Summer, I have no softness left, no gentleness, no kindness. All I am is darkness, whereas you’re light, hope, and happiness. Everything you are, I am the opposite. We are two sides of the same coin. You don’t have the lack of emotions like I do.
“Slick is both dark and light. He needs you for the lightness you bring to his life, and he needs me to walk in the night at his side. This is what I want to talk about, please,” Irish said.
The please felt awkward coming from her mouth. I felt it wasn’t a word she often used.
“You love him,” I stated, confident I’d guessed right.
“As much as I’m capable of,” Irish admitted.
That stung deep. We both loved him. Any hope that Irish had just been the other woman was gone. Deep down, I’d known that Slick loved her, too, but I hadn’t wanted to admit it. It had been far easier to think she’d been playing with his emotions and was the other woman. Some small part of me had hoped Slick would see that and return to me. But hope was an emotion that never played fair, and it was time to grow up.
“Come with me. I have a small area in a greenhouse. We can sit and have coffee,” I finally said.
Irish nodded and followed as I turned on my hell. This was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. It was one I didn’t want to have but definitely needed for closure.
Irish
Summer was everything Slick had described and then some. In her, I saw the woman I should have been but wasn’t. Any chance of that had died two years ago. On seeing my mother’s and grandfather’s bodies, I’d ruthlessly killed any gentle or soft emotion inside me. All that remained was killing and vengeance.
I envied Summer and had no qualms about admitting it. And the truth was, we were two sides of the same coin, and Slick did need both sides to live his life. He was a good man in his heart, but what he’d seen and witnessed had warped him like me. Artemis and how she handled her betrayal hadn’t helped him at all. Instead, it had raised barriers that were hard to climb. Only with Summer and myself did I imagine that Slick could be fully himself. And even then, he split the two sides of him.
Greedily, I got his darkness, which fed mine, and Summer got his gentleness, which fed her. I hoped Summer would understand my proposal because it was going to be a blinder. This would come out of nowhere for her, and I sincerely hoped she would be open to it.
