Sorry, not sorry.
Once he dropped Symphony at her house, which was in walking distance of the diner, he dialed their funeral director. “Lewis,” he greeted. “I need you to fire up the crematorium.”
Not in the mood for pleasantries, Diesel hung up. He was Outlaw’s son. His orders would be followed.
He texted Uncle Christopher.
Sorry about the delay. I’m scooping up Shine. If he plays with fire, then he burns. I’ll explain when I see you.
Suspecting Christopher hadn’t told the boys about Rebel’s collapsed lung and unable to rest after speaking to Rule, Meggie wanted more pain meds. The stab wound hurt. Her ribs and hand throbbed. And all her cuts and abrasions burned, but she couldn’t give in until she saw to her family.
For awhile after Christopher’s departure, she sat in the rocking chair situated between the door and Rebel’s bed and talked to her daughter, sang lullabies, read two fairytales fromher phone, resumed talking, and prayed to anyone she thought might be listening.
A couple of times, she swore Rebel’s eyelids fluttered, but then she’d stop moving again. Meggie pressed her lips together to keep from ordering the nurse not to administer the next dose of drugs to Rebel. However, Meggie didn’t want her baby girl in pain, and she trusted Christopher’s judgment.
Rebel wouldn’t awaken soon, so Meggie instructed one nurse to wheel her to the nursery to visit Jo. Her baby looked strong and healthy. She wanted to sit with Jo in her arms and rock her, but because of her extensive injuries, she could only stroke her soft downy hair, sing her a lullaby, and then return to her room, hoping Christopher and their boys had finally gotten back. But no. Not even Bishop, Ryder, and Ransom were back from wherever they’d gone to eat. Meggie suspected her husband took CJ home and he’d gone to the club. Talking over the phone to Rule devastated her. She could only imagine what seeing him did to Christopher and CJ. They’d need a moment to unwind.
Despite how much she needed Christopher’s physical presence and moral support, she understood he required space to work through his anger toward Rule and helplessness at the entire situation.
Alone in her room with just the unnerving sound of Rebel’s machines as company, Meggie called Kendall, then Roxy, then Zoann, then Gypsy, and finally Bailey.
Each conversation ended quickly. Meggie understood they didn’t want to tax her, although Bailey’s cool cordiality suggested something else. They were all dealing with the fallout of Rule’s break, so she let them have their space.
On second thought, Gypsy was probably dealing with Derby’s foolishness. Meggie empathized with her friend, though she wished Gypsy stuck to one decision. The back-and-forth drove Meggie insane. She never knew the status of Gypsy andDerby’s relationship. Even when her friend seemed firmly on the side of divorce and no chance of reconciliation, she caved and went back to Derby.
Meggie understood. In her head, only death could ever come between her and Christopher. He was volatile, but not abusive. He was charismatic, but not a cheater. He lovedher, above everyone, but he was still an excellent father.
Derby’s positive had nothing to do with Gypsy. He was loyal to Christopher.
Studying her phone, she thought about calling Gypsy again and probing for more detail. Her friend was probably lonely and needed an ear to list Derby’s latest transgressions. A time or two, Meggie suggested Gypsy try to move on with another man. Derby liked eighteen-year-old girls at his big age? Then, Gypsy should find an eighteen-year-old guy to spend time with.
Meggie giggled, until she remembered Gypsy telling Meggie she’d slept with Diesel several years ago. The news grossed her out and creeped her out. Christopher hadn’t cared. She doubted he’d even talked to Diesel.Shecertainly hadn’t, although she’d wanted to punch her son. Sure, in his oversexed brain, sleeping with his mother’s best friend, lured him in. Yet, they’d crossed boundaries that should have been too solid to breach.
As unfair as it was, Meggie laid most of the blame at Gypsy’s feet since she was older–fifty or fifty-one at the time. True, Diesel would’ve been twenty-five or twenty-six, butshe’dpropositioned him. Gypsy swore she’d only slept with Diesel twice.
“You broke it off with him?”
“No. He stopped it, Meggie. He said he felt as if he was betraying you by sleeping with one of your good friends behind your back.”
“You’ve known Diesel since he was almost sixteen, Gypsy. How could you sleep with him?”
“He’s a grown man now and a good fuck.”
“Look at my son again and he will be your last fuck,” Meggie spat, and nodded to the door. “Now get out.”
They’d reconciled within a month. Mainly because Meggie knew Diesel shared half of the blame. Besides, he hadn’t been underage when Gypsy slept with him.
If her goal had been to make Derby jealous, the plan failed. For that to have happened, Gypsy would’ve have to expose Diesel. As much as she liked Gypsy and wished Derby treated her better, Meggie wouldn’t allow her to use her beloved son as a pawn.
Derby was an idiot and Gypsy was misguided, so distressed and despondent that her husband was once again sleeping with much younger women. So Meggie threw it out there that Gypsy needed to find a hot young guy to make her feel special and wanted.
“As long as you stay away from Diesel. And Grant,” she remembered to add.
“There’s always CJ,” Gypsy chortled.
Unamused, Meggie lifted her brow and folded her arms.
“I’m fucking with you, Meggie,” she said, laughing harder. “He’s turning into a fine young stud.”
