A voice whispers, and I blink, trying to ignore my rational thoughts, wanting my irrational thoughts to take over for a little while, allowing myself to be immature something deep down I know will come and bite me in the ass.
I sigh. Three nights ago, I was the one who started it, I was the one who kissed him first; I made the first move, showing him that I want him for him, that I’m in love with him and want out of the friendzone but after giving me the best sex I have ever had – five times to be exact – and pleasure I have never experienced, he dropped the bomb that we can’t be together despite professing his love for me.
Lies, all complete lies….
Or that is what I’m trying to believe, because if he did love me and he’s doing this, then he’s hurting us both for nothing.
But so are you for not telling him the truth.The voice whispers again and I squeeze my eyes tight, ignoring it as sadness flitters through me.
He didn’t fight for me, for us, my best friend didn’t fight, instead he just kneeled before me and gave me all shitty excuses when I know the truth; he’s scared.
Growing up, we’ve watched the brothers treat their women like crap. We’ve watched the heartbreak and chaos after their egos take over, believing that if they strayed, their women would still be there because they’re club brothers earning good money, even better money if they were officers. I know it’s something he doesn’t want to do, but this is me, his best friend, we’re talking about.
We’re different… or so I thought.
I shake my head before looking towards the officer’s bedrooms where Drippy, a newly patched brother, said Psycho was after I arrived, believing I was here to see him, that was an hour ago.
Maybe I should just get it over with and speak to him, maybe see if he’ll give us a chance if I explain my reasons for leaving town, reasons that have everything to do with him.
Maybe if I fight for us, he’ll see we’re worth it and that we’re different and he’ll want to fight back.
Hope fills me the more I big myself up and I move to stand, adamant to fight for us but a figure shows in the mouth of the hallway making me freeze and tears blur my vision as a just screwed look Misty walks out. Her makeup smeared, her clothes shrewd and her hair a tangled mess and my heart shatters.
She may have been in a different room, my rational voice whispers, and I swallow hard, listening to it for once but all hope dashes though when her eyes come straight to me, eyes full of glee and she grins wide while walking over to the other girls, her eyes never leaving me and my heart sinks knowing what room she came out of before Psycho walks out next, running a hand through his hair, smeared makeup smudged on his white t-shirt and the tears building want to fall.
Oh god, he slept with her after sleeping with me, didn’t he?
He begins to look around the room and I suck in a breath and scoot down a little in my chair trying to ignore the bile rising at the thought of them together. Praying he doesn’t spot me because I know I’ll fall apart at the guilt that will most likely show in his light brown eyes but Tate squeals seeing him, getting his attention as she runs over to him and he quickly grabs her and swings her around making my heart flutter.
I watch her say something to him before he pats his pockets and he frowns then says something to her all while my breathing becomes choppy as I hear Misty’s cackle to my right, the other club girl’s all cheering for her.
“I knew he wouldn’t push you away for long,” I hear Chasity gloat, but I don’t take my eyes off the duo before me.
The little darling nods as Psycho puts her back down. She rushes over to her grandpa, dodging Lacey, who tries to grab her, making the woman scowl and stomp her foot while Psycho goes back the way he came, most likely to grab a lollipop for Tate that he normally carries with him, something I used to melt at, and I take my chances.
Without looking at anyone, knowing I’m on the verge of sobbing, without staying and confronting him like I should, without realizing things may not be as they seem, I stand and quickly make my way to the front door, ignoring the loud cackles from the club girls.
I’m not coming back here again, I can’t.
Allowing my rational thoughts to take over, I quickly rush out of the clubhouse without gaining attention on myself, but gasp as I bump into a hard chest and two large hands grab my shoulders.
“Ives, what’s wrong?” my brother asks and I shake my head without making eye contact knowing he’ll see the unshed tears and mutter, “Nothing,” before trying to get out of his hold knowing I’m seconds away from sobbing my shattered heart out but he tightens his grip and demands, “Talk to me.”
I sniffle and look at him, and he frowns, seeing I’m close to breaking. I choke, “Three days ago Psycho and I slept together,” his grip gets even tighter as his jaw locks and I sob, “And three minutes ago he walked out of the officer’s hallway with a freshly screwed look Misty who gloated.”
Even as I say the words, I regret them knowing he’ll go in guns blazing and I’m not a hundred percent sure she even slept with him, just allowing my emotions and fear to take over.
“Mother fucker,” he curses, and I shake my head stutter, “I-I, I need to go,” and quickly use his shocked, angry state to get out of his hold and rush over to my truck.
“Ivy!”he shouts, but I ignore him and climb in before spinning out of my designated spot, the prospect just opening the gate in time before I smash into it, not caring anymore.
“Mama,” I say loudly as I walk into the two-bed bungalow she bought after leaving Dad nearly a year ago with money he gave her, hoping to get her back.
I hang up my jacket and put my keys in the dish on the table near the front door before I wipe away the tears and sniffle, then, holding my head high, I walk into the living area and mutter, “Mama, can we talk…” Needing her advice, wondering if I just acted irrationally, but I freeze, my eyes widening at the scene before me.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” A slimy, fat, bald, soon-to-be-dead man says from beside my tied-up mother, holding a gun to her head, the furniture overturned around them.
His beady eyes take in my summer dress that hugs my breasts while a younger guy, more my age, I’d suggest, but looks like the fat guy, smirks.
