Page 59 of Sinister Red
Sofie opens her mouth to speak, a few tears slipping down her cheeks before her eyes narrow. “Fuck you for saying that.”
“You just did.”
“Go to hell, Sam.” She takes a deep breath and I keep up the grin, but she doesn’t let me speak. “I just wanted to talk to you, to have a more normal conversation about… all the things we need to talk about. I was hoping— “
“Here’s the thing, Sofie.” I take a step back toward the door. “Iwas hoping for a lot of shit a long time ago, shit you dangled right in front of me for a fucking year, and then you took it all away in the blink of a big beautiful eye. My future was clear for the first time in my entire life, just within my reach, and you yanked it all out of my grasp without so much as afuck you.We have nothing left to talk about, and I learned that hoping for anything when it comes to this”—I motion between us—“is useless. Good luck with your fuck-boyLewis.”
I turn to walk out of the house I never want to see again, but Sofie says, “You were right about him. You were right about everything, Sam, and if you would just talk to me for real, and stop spitting so much bullshit at me then maybe— “
“I will not be your rebound, Sofie.” I glance at her over my shoulder. “I won’t let you do that to either of us. You can do better than that and…”So fucking much for hating her.“There isn’t enough of my heart left for you to break when you realize it and walk away again.”
Then I’m gone, fucking out the door and hobbling my sore, brokenhearted ass through the snow around to the front of the funeral home where I climb onto my bike and wait for the rest of this shit fucking day to end.
Everything was wrong today, and I only made it worse.
CHAPTERTWELVE
SOFIE
“Wouldyou just calm the hell down?” I huff as I turn, my car fishtailing when I hit a huge patch of ice at the entry of the parking lot. “I’m literally pulling in right now.”
“Thank God!” Marbles all but yells, a little too dramatically for my liking.
“I don’t know why you called me for this shit. I’m not a vet.”
He laughs. “You sure about that, Sofie girl? Sure have put me and them other Wulven animals back together plenty of times.”
I roll my eyes because he’s ridiculous, but also right.
Ever since I went to the hospital—and years ago when I was with them on a much more regular basis—the Kings have started calling me more frequently for little things when my dad or Harlow aren’t around.
Of the three of us, my best friend makes the most sense since she’s an actual nurse—an RN now, thanks to her delinquent boyfriend who put her through med school. Harlow works a lot of crazy hours, crazier than mine can get, and when she’s on shift and unavailable, Marbles or whoever usually calls my dad to come out and patch them up. That’s why he’s earned his very own club name—Doc—after years of dealing with them. Roland Berk is officiallyin, and after shooting himself, he seemed to embrace it more than ever.
Up until almost two months ago, I was content with never seeing another WKMC member ever again—outside of Marbles, anyway, because I’m pretty sure he’s going to marry Harlow—and I had no plans of changing that.
Then I had to walk my happy ass into the hospital with my best friend for moral support, along with my concern for someone I don’t want to talk about, and suddenly Brick has me on speed dial for the entire club. I get it to a degree, especially since most of myhome visitshave been in response to something related to that horrible incident at the clubhouse and injuries acquired during it, but I’m starting to think there’s more to the fact thatI’mconstantly getting called to help when I’ve been very clear I wasn’t going back down this road.
But here I am, driving up to Marbles’ real apartment that’s separate from the clubhouse, all because he called me freaking out over Mortimer.
I was shocked when I moved back to Sabine Woods and discovered that cheetah was still alive during a visit to see where Harlow was now living after years of bitching that Marbles would never commit. A crock of shit I called her on because that crazy man has been nothing but devoted and faithful to her since she sucked his dick the night they met, and moving into a place together meant Marbles needed one that wasn’t club owned, but it would happen. It did, I got to sayI told you soabout a million times, then I freaked out when Morty came trotting out of their bedroom, looking pretty decent for a nine-year-old big cat.
“So, what exactly is it that’s wrong with him?” I ask as I skid through the parking lot and barely stop in a spot.
“I think he’s constipated.”
I frown, pull my phone away from my ear to look at it, then scowl as I listen again. “You think yourcheetah is constipatedand you called apathologist-slash-morticianout to look at him?”
“Who else am I supposed to call?”
“Oh, I don’t know, the fucking zoo? Marbles, I am not qualified to give a cheetah an enema.”
He cackles down the line. “Who gets certified to do something like that, Sofie girl? That’s just nuts.”
“Vets do, Marbles. Vets and zoologists get certified, even get degrees, so they can give all kinds of animals enemas along with any number of other things.”
“You’ll do fine. Morty loves you.”
My frown deepens as I get out of my car and grab my medical bag. “But does he love me enough to poop without me needing to stick anything up his ass first?”
