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I went after her but gave her space. She was speed walking, kicking up dust as she walked, but she was already filthy from the grave, so it made no difference against her black clothes. Fuck, I must look like I just exhumed a grave as well, which meant we needed to stay off the main road.
Catching up to her, I pulled on the back of her sweatshirt to get her to slow down. “Talk to me.”
She spun, eyes rimmed with tears, her beautiful face streaked with dirt. She still had her hat on, and her mask around her neck.
“And say what?” She threw her hands out. “That my dad lied to me, that he manipulated us? Did Sasha know? Was this why she didn’t go to his funeral, why she couldn’t bring herself to take anything of his down, because she knew?”
I shook my head, trying to pull her closer. “I don’t assume she did…Sasha is a Death Raider. She’s been straddling life and death by dating Simon Stone for five years. There’s no way she would have been allowed to show her face at that funeral. You don’t think we were being watched that day? That Dirk didn’t drive down to see for himself that his greatest rival had died?”
He wasn’t the only one.
The leader of Mayhem Riot was on the fringes, so was Jameson from the Chaos Kings, and Alec, from Sons of Speed. They all waited to see Simon lowered into that hole, and to see who would take his place. I had a target on my back every second during that funeral; it was partially why I didn’t go to Callie when I saw her leaving that day. I wanted to—fuck, I was angry with her, but not enough to stay away from her—but I wouldn’t while it was dangerous for her.
“So he tricked everyone? Why would he do that?”
I shook my head, kicking at a rock. “I think it had to do with the deal he made with Dirk, but I’m not sure. He left some hints as to where we can find him, in those letters. I want to take it into church to have the guys see if they know for sure or not.”
Callie wet her cracked lips, nodding.
I pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her neck. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”
Her hands wound up my back and sunk into my hair.
“Okay.”
Once we turned back toward the road, Callie tucked her hand into mine and asked, “What will you do once we find him? He obviously planned all this, which means he’s still the president. When he comes back, will you just go back to being the vice president?”
Watching the dirt at our feet, and the way the early rays of sun streaked across it, my mind took me back to when Callie was leaving my treehouse. After we’d turned sixteen, I’d walk her back home every morning and kiss her goodbye. We’d always been inseparable after that day in the river. Our crush became an obsession, which quickly turned to dependency. She was my everything, and I remember staring at the dirt like this while we walked back, thinking up ways I could explain all that to her. Even now, the words I wanted to say were stuck behind my teeth, rattling in my lungs to be freed. But my fucking pride held on to them, shoving them down until they were nothing but air.
“Same shit, I guess,” I rumbled in response. What good would it do to tell her I wanted out, that I wanted a regular life? Even if I accomplished it, I wasn’t leaving Rose Ridge, and some piece of me would still be a part of the club. They’d become my family, and with all this shit going on with Simon, the property, and the Death Raiders, I wasn’t going to leave them high and dry.
Callie kept her face down as we walked, and the silence stretched uncomfortably.
“What about you, now that you know he’s alive and selling is off the table? You going back to DC?”
Fuck, I wanted her to say no. I needed her to, but why would she stay? I’d given her no reason to.
She remained quiet for a long time, and then released my hand, itching at the palm that had been inside of mine.
“Guess I’ll go back too. I considered moving back here, getting my own spot at a tattoo shop, but that seems kind of dumb now. I feel like this has all been just one giant mistake.”
I was glad she couldn’t see my face because it was reflecting how badly it hurt to hear her say that. Still, I wanted her to come home if she wanted to, and I knew a big reason why she wouldn’t, was if she didn’t feel like she was wanted, which pissed me off. So much so that I stopped and turned toward her.
“If you want to move here, then why don’t you? Who cares about the club, or the past, or even me? Do what’s good for you, Callie. You’ve lived in DC for seven years; how come you never went anywhere else? You never moved to Montana, like you talked about when we were younger, or Wyoming. You never went anywhere. You just worked shitty job after shitty job, stuck to your shitty apartment and kept your head down. It was like you were waiting for your past to clear up, come back, and tell you it still wanted you.”
Anger twisted her features as her arms crossed in front of her.
“I followed a dream. I became a tattoo artist, and part of figuring out where you want to go takes time, and money. Something I haven’t exactly been flush with. It’s not like people are offering me Netflix specials.”
A scoff left my chest as I shook my head.
“A dream I never once heard you talk about. Suddenly you woke up and decided to ink designs into people’s skin? You could have gone to school, Callie; you could have done anything you wanted.”
“I did do what I wanted!” she yelled back, stepping closer. “In the real world, Wes, people don’t get to just do whatever they want. Rent is due, bills are due, most people have to work, and they survive paycheck to paycheck, just happy they have a roof over their heads for one more month. I don’t live in some imaginary world where I have a car reliable enough to drive a thousand miles across the country, or unlimited funds for gas and food. I grew up poor, Wes. I left here with nothing. I have worked my ass off for those meager things you’re now pointing out as failures. Tattooing was something I discovered I loved when I lost you.”
That landed too hard, and in the wrong place.
“You did not lose me, River. Youleftme.”
