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I drank.
I smoked.
I had even found myself doing a line of our special white lady when Joker laid it out. She had always made me feel invincible as if nothing could break through my hard exterior, but even she couldn’t seem to get me off. It was as if Everly filled me with a rush of adrenaline, and my metabolism just burned the high away.
I knew better than to fuck with the teenage chicks from the other side of town. I never fucked girls desperate to bang a biker, but this girl. She was getting under my skin in the worst way, and I fucking hated it.
I was laid back and chilling with my crew. I wasn’t looking for a fight, and even though I had seen them across the way, I didn’t care to spend my night getting involved with The Border Lords and Everly’s punk-ass brother. They were the ones who came to us starting shit and pushing for a fight, but when Brent shoved Everly, I saw red.
Something happened inside of me when he put his hands on her. I shut down. I ceased all functions except the ability to move my arms and legs. I beat the fuck out of him without even thinking about it, staining my knuckles with this thick blood while my boys joined in and went after his crew.
It happened so fast, and a riot ensued. Crews collided, blowing up like a fucking bomb until guns were pulled and the cops showed. The fighting stopped, and it became a dash to leave. The crowd broke apart and moved away in a wave of panic as the police collected the few who weren’t fast enough.
I searched the crowd for Everly, making sure she was safe. When I didn’t see her, I peeled away on my bike, angry as fuck with myself. I was pissed off at her for occupying so much of my mind lately.
I looked down at my bloodied knuckles raging at myself for caring more about defending her honor than defending my boys. I wouldn’t admit that to anyone else, but it was what had happened.
When she stepped through our front door with Zada, the relief I felt knowing she was okay only infuriated me more. I never let myself get like this with a woman, especially one I wasn’t fucking. Hell, I hadn’t even gotten my dick wet on her tongue yet, and already I was playing protector and worrying like a goddamn pussy-whipped punk.
So, I did the one thing I knew how to do when she sat next to me like we were something to each other—I lashed out. She didn’t need to know how much power she held over me in such a short amount of time. She didn’t need to know how protective I was feeling or how badly I wanted to put my fist through her brother’s face for the look of hurt he had put on her face.
She didn’t need to know how fucked I was, and it was time I took control of whatever the fuck I was thinking and feeling even if it meant drowning the kitten.
17 Everly
PULLING MY PIZZA OUT THE OVEN,I quickly put it on top of the stove and dropped the oven mitt onto the counter. It was a Wednesday night, and I was home alone. I was ready to relax in my PJs in front of Netflix and eat pizza.
The pizza cutter rolled over the pepperoni smoothly as I cut it into eight slices. Once it cooled enough, I put two slices on a plate and grabbed my drink, ready to go into the living room. When I turned around, I found Will standing in the doorway of the kitchen with his arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.
He grinned, his teeth showing a little, and I felt chills rush over me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
I hadn’t heard anyone come in, and as far as I knew, I was home alone. I wouldn’t be walking around the house without a bra otherwise.
“I live here. Remember?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I thought you and Mom were out for the night.”
“She is. I came home.”
This was not how I wanted my night to go. After my run-in with drunken Will, I swore I would never get caught alone with him again. I guess he had other plans.
“Why? Is everything okay?”
He moved away from the door and slowly came my way. I swallowed, trying to think of a way to get away from him without being obvious.
“Maybe I’m tired of going out. Maybe I’d rather be here hanging out with you.”
“Will …” I said, my voice trembling with nerves and catching in the back of my throat.
“I love the way you whisper my name,” he rasped.
Too far.
He was going too far, and yet again, it was making me super uncomfortable.
His eyes trailed down my neck, stopping at my breasts, and I knew he could tell I wasn’t wearing a bra. I berated myself for not wearing PJs that covered more, but it was hot in Georgia, even though it was October, and that meant shorts and tanks.
