There was alsoherself. She didn’t know how to stop babies, and she was terrified of pregnancy. The obvious reason—Daddy’s wrath—factored in. It went so much deeper, though. Rebel was afraidof pregnancy. Of being pregnant. She feared dying likeMomma almost had. She feared losing her baby as she’d almost lost her little sister.
And what about Diesel and her relationship with him? However he wanted to classify it—familial as sister and brother, forbidden as secret lovers—he was currently drunk and vulnerable and she fuckingrefusedto serve as an easy escape, then tomorrow when he sobered, a shameful mistake.
He bit her earlobe. Sniffed her skin. “You smell so fucking good. I’ll bet your pussy tastes delicious.Sweet.”
“Get off me, Diesel,” she said as evenly as possible. “My clothes will be ruined by grass stains.”
He complied, then held out his hand and helped her to her feet. She stared at him, wishing she were older or he was younger. He was so handsome with his strong jaw, defined cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips. Long lashes ringed beautiful gray eyes. Over the years, she’d seen them sparkle from moments of happiness, but mostly sadness gleamed in them.
His mother’s long ago desertion haunted him. Rebel couldn’t imagine the effect that had on his psyche. Nor could she understand how he blamed his mom for leaving when his father also abandoned him six months later.
She searched her mind for a safe topic, something to remove the charge between them.
“You were out here when I arrived, weren’t you?”
A smile tipped his lips up. “Yes.”
“You’re an asshole for not revealing yourself immediately. I was starting to freeze.”
“Watching you cleared the horror from my mind.”
“Watching me from behind a tree or while I’m asleep without my knowledge is creepy.”
“I never claimed to be a gentleman.”
“You’re perfectnotbeing a gentleman. What Idon’tlike is you being a fucking creep.”
“You aren’t flattered I chose to come to you?”
“Be so fucking for real.”
He was. She saw it in his face even before he said, “I am.”
“Come to me when you’re sober than I’ll tell you.”
“Most chicks fall at my feet. They don’t ask me questions. They don’t push me away. They take me onmyterms.”
“Good for you, fucked for them. I don’t want what most chicks have with you or someone else. I want a relationship like Momma’s and Daddy’s. Despite how he fucked up, he loves my mother.”
“You say that now because he killed Torie.”
“Remarkably redeemable when a man kills for his woman.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Aunt Meggie and Uncle Christopher have a special relationship. Unique. You can’t base yours off theirs.”
“The fuck I can’t. If they had a bad marriage, I’d say Idon’twant that type of relationship. Everyone would applaud that logic. I sure the fuck can say the opposite.”
Clenching his jaw, he glanced away.
“Can I ask you something?”
He sighed. “What, Rebel?”
“If you didn’t sleep with Torie, why are youso upset that she was killed?”
“I hung around the club for a few minutes after Uncle Christopher left. I was waiting for Tabitha,” he said, ignoring her question. “There was no more speculation about Outlaw’s relationship with Torie. No snide comments about Aunt Meggie’s misplaced trust. Silence fell over the entire clubhouse. Uncle Christopher had no empathy. No sympathy. Afterwards, he walked over her body with zero remorse. What would become of us if Aunt Meggie ever got tired and walked away? He’d kill with impunity. She holds him accountable. Gives him a conscience.” He looked at her. “What happens to me if I fuck up?”
“Have you fucked up?”
