I’m not sure which is a worse hell. Having Wolf help me in and out of the shower every morning or, having my ex-girlfriend sleeping in the same house as me, knowing she’s got two black eyes and a shit ton of baggage weighing on her shoulders. I’m going to go with the latter seeing as Wolf purchased a chair that stays in the shower, giving me the freedom to wash without him standing over me. The guy thought of everything and has bent over backward to make me comfortable but, any conversation about his niece is off limits.
Since she showed up two days ago, I’ve barely seen Kelly. A vigorous physical therapy plan was put in place for me before I left the hospital and the very next day, I began working on getting my ass out of this chair. Therapy kept me out of the house for a good portion of the day and when I returned home, she was nowhere to be found.
For the last two nights, I’ve sat in my chair replaying the conversation between her and Wolf in my head.
“Let me find out Shady fucking put his hands on you.”
Waiting to hear the front door close, I picture that cocksucker moving in on what was mine. He fucking knew she was off limits. It didn’t matter that I was the one who walked away, as my brother that motherfucker shouldn’t have been quick to stick his dick where mine had already been.
The door closes the same time every night and I listen as she climbs the steps. Staying in the room right below hers, I stare up at the ceiling as the floorboards creak with every step she takes. Like a creep, I picture her undressing for bed, wondering if she still sleeps in nothing but a t-shirt. And, every night after the sound of her footsteps dull, I sit in my chair and think about her. I think about us and what could’ve been if things had gone differently. The memory reel ends the same every night—with her two black eyes, Wolf’s words and the truth, that it’s all my fault. I gave her to that motherfucker by walking away.
Glancing at my phone, I see a text from Stryker informing me something came up and he couldn’t take me to therapy. A second later the phone chimes again with another text saying someone would pick me up within the hour. With time to kill, I roll myself into the kitchen and come to a complete stop, spotting Kelly sitting at the table eating a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal.
Good to know her choice of breakfast foods haven’t changed.
The spoon pauses at her mouth as she peers back at me. The first thing I take notice of is the angry bruising around her eyes. Still swollen, the purple hues have faded some and turned green. She shoves the spoon into her mouth and I continue to stare as she ignores me and pretends to read the nutritional facts on the back of the box. The tension between us is so thick it’s suffocating and, I force my eyes away. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I roll myself over to the coffee pot and search for a mug. Finding one on the drainboard next to the sink, I reach for it but, it’s in the back hidden behind several dishes.
Muttering a curse, I lean forward forgetting to put the brakes on my chair and nearly topple forward. My toes touch the ground and pain shoots up my bad leg. Grimacing, I grab the edge of the counter and use it as leverage to push myself further back in the chair. Too engrossed with the pain searing through my leg as I lift it into the footplate, I don’t notice Kelly move to my side. Lifting my eyes from my leg, I watch her reach for the mug and place it on the counter in front of me.
“Could’ve saved yourself all that trouble if you would’ve just asked for help,” she says, turning her gaze to me. Slowly her eyes wander over my broken body, pitying me as a frown works her lips.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I growl, gripping the arms of my chair. Ignoring the pain, I clench my jaw and grit my teeth. I may be temporarily paralyzed or whatever the fuck they’re calling it these days but, I’m still a fucking man.
I’m still the fucking man who used to love her.
The man who pleasured her.
The fucking man who lived every day waiting to please her. To watch her unravel and hold her as she slept.
“My legs might not work but, my tongue is just fine. Why don’t you sit on my face and let me take you for a ride down memory lane,” I sneer. The moment the words leave my lips I regret them and not because they’re harsh or vulgar but because the mischievous look I was hungry to see, never comes. Instead of fighting fire with fire, she looks at me like I’m a stranger. Like those years when her thighs hugged the sides of my head never happened.
“Such a sweet offer,” she mutters, turning around. “But, I’ll pass,” she continues, taking her bowl and spoon from the table. Walking next to me, she dumps them both in the sink before turning her cold eyes back to mine. “Turns out what you thought was great in your teen years isn’t all that spectacular in your twenties.”
Her words don’t carry the heat they used to and, that realization pulls at something inside of me. She was broken when I met her. Lost and lonely but, a fighter nonetheless. Someone who never backed down, who always stood her ground and never gave up on what she wanted. The girl in front of me is going through the motions. Her words are like an automated response. A recording when all you want is a live voice.
I want that live voice.
That live wire.
I want it sparking between us.
I want to feel the energy crackle around me as the earth shakes.
I want my ferocious Pinky.
“That so?” I question, cocking an eyebrow. “Judging by the two black eyes your sporting I think it’s safe to say your twenties are lacking spectacular. Fuck, Pinky you—”
“Don’t you dare,” she spats, advancing toward me. “You don’t get to call me that.”
A temporary bout of satisfaction sweeps over me as a flicker of life sparks in her eyes.
“Good to see you’re still breathing,” I mutter, glancing at her balled fists.
“It’s a shame you’re not,” she hisses. “Let’s get some things straight, Linc. First, you don’t get to call me that ridiculous nickname. My hair isn’t even pink anymore in case you didn’t notice. Secondly, you sure as fuck don’t get to make snide remarks about my life.”
Didn’t notice? I noticed everything about her. From the change in hair color to the tattoos on her fingers that were new. None of them mattered though. Any version of Kelly is a beautiful one, even the battered one I’m looking at now.
“What about your taste in men?” I interject, lifting my finger to point at the bruises beneath her eyes.
“Off limits.”
“Something you should’ve probably told the guy before you let him fucking smack you around,” I grunt.
“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her eyes.
There she is.
“Stop pretending like you give a fuck about my life and concentrate on your own,” she shrieks, pushing the hair away from her eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, she continues. “Look, I promised my uncle I wouldn’t cause any trouble and unlike some people, I keep my promises. So, if we’re done sparing then, I’ll get out of your way.”
Regret coils in my veins as she moves to sidestep my chair and I reach for her wrist. At the gentle touch, the live wire sizzles between us.
There it is.
“Don’t,” she pleads.
“Don’t what?” I whisper, drawing soft circles on her skin with my thumb. Snatching her hand out of my grip, she takes a step backward and I watch her gaze wander over my chest. Her eyes go wide before they flash with pain.
“Cursed love,” she reads, taking in the punctured bleeding heart tattooed between my pecs. I watch her neck as she strains to swallow before lifting my eyes to hers.
Two years ago, when I walked out of her life, I didn’t have the decency to break her heart myself. I pussied out and had Sin deliver the message. At my request, he lied to her and told her I never loved her, that my heart still belonged to Savannah. He made her believe every word was a lie and every I love you, an automated response I trained myself to say. I left North Carolina wondering if she believed his lies. Now, watching her stare at the tattoo, I know for certain she did.
It makes me want to tell her the brand on my chest is a tribute to her. The words symbolize the love I’ll always have for her. A love I was too cursed to keep. A love that I’ll feel forever but never be able to act on. The swords stabbing the heart and the blood that seeps from it are another symbol, signifying the pain I felt leaving her. The fucking pain I feel in my bones every morning I wake up and she’s not next to me. The pain I swallowed trying to forget her.
The pain searing through me as I sit here, staring at her wishing we were still those two kids navigating life together.
“Whoa,” a voice calls, breaking the silence between us. Closing the back slider, Wolf’s oldest son, Nico stands to the side watching me and Kelly with a conflicted expression.
“Am I interrupting something?” he questions.
“No,” Kelly says quickly, turning her back to me. Nico’s lips stretch into a warm smile as he starts for his cousin.
“Pops said you were here but, I thought he was blowing smoke out of his ass as usual,” he tells her.
“Get over here!” she exclaims, meeting Nico halfway. Spreading his arms wide, he catches her as she throws her arms around his neck. “Shit, when did you get taller than me?” she questions, squeezing him.
“I’ve always been taller than you.” he points out, pulling back to look at her.
“Yeah, well, I’m older.”
“By six days,” he reminds her.
Wolf has three sons and Nico is the oldest out of the three. Though the cousins rarely saw each other, they were thick as thieves, something I learned back in North Carolina when he visited for a week. Aside from sharing an age, they also shared several personality traits. Both were wild, a little reckless and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. Basically, Nico had a hankering for trouble just like Kelly.
A week proved to be a long time for me and Kelly and we didn’t bother hiding our relationship from Nico. He knew we together and respected our decision to keep it from his father and the rest of the club. However, that respect died when I showed up in Brooklyn, sans Kelly. While his father had no problem splitting his loyalty between me and his niece, Nico sided with his Kelly. Not long after I became a permanent fixture in Brooklyn, the bastard cornered me outside the Vegas Diner one night and went to town with his fists, breaking my nose.
I didn’t hold a grudge.
In fact, I respected the guy more for having Kelly’s back and when he took my ass to the emergency room, I confessed my truth. I told him my reasons for leaving her. I relived Savannah’s death and though the circumstances were different, I couldn’t watch Kelly suffer the same fate. It didn’t matter I wasn’t the same young kid making stupid decisions that ultimately cost a young girl her life, I was riding with the big dogs. I was making enemies hand over fist as a full-fledged member of the Satan’s Knights and harboring a secret that could destroy not only my life but the life of anyone associated with me.
Nico didn’t approve of me breaking his cousin’s heart but, he understood my intentions and as a result, he admitted a truth of his own. He too wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. Wanting more for his son, Wolf shut down the idea of Nico prospecting for the club. I was there when the father and son had their first falling out over the matter and remember Wolf’s words clear as day.
“I bury brothers as often as I change my shorts, I won’t bury my son too.”
Nico didn’t want to hear that and before the bomb, he started hanging around the Staten Island charter of the Freedom Riders Motorcycle club, hoping they’ll let him prospect—a little tidbit Wolf don’t know.
Focusing my attention back to the present, I watch them continue to embrace. Nico’s eyes travel over Kelly’s shoulder and land on me.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?”
Returning my hands to my wheels, I tip my chin toward him in response.
Ignoring me, Kelly wraps her arm around Nico’s demanding his attention.
“Hey, why don’t you take your favorite cousin out and show me the sites. The last time I was here was when your brother Francesco was born.”
Taking my cue, I glance at the clock. Any minute now, one of the guys will be here to drag my ass to therapy and I’m still in a pair of sweats.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” I say, reversing my chair.
“Here, let me help you—”
“I’ve got it,” I snap.
Pausing, he holds his hands up in mock surrender before glancing at Kelly.
“Sure, I’ll be your personal tour guide,” he says, turning back to me. “But, first we have to take this guy to his physical therapy appointment.”
“What?” Kelly asks, trying to mask the horrified expression on her face.
“Nah, man, that’s okay,” I interject. “One of the guys will be here soon to pick me up—”
“Dude, you didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“When was the last time my father was here?”
“I saw him yesterday morning,” Kelly offers.
“Some shit went down last night with the club,” Nico reveals, jutting his chin toward the television sitting in the corner of the kitchen. “Fuck, don’t you people turn on the television? It’s all over the news.”
Gritting my teeth, I glare at Nico as he continues to ramble on. Kelly moves across the room and turns the television on.
“The motel Deuce and Ally were staying at got ambushed last night. The news is reporting a fire but the word on the street is they were attacked by a rival club. I don’t know all the details but, my father called me this morning from the 122nd Precinct. They took him, Blackie and Riggs in for questioning.”
“They keeping them?” I ask, threading my fingers through my hair.
“Nah, you know the drill. They’re going to keep them there as long as possible, hoping one of them breaks.”
“The news is reporting casualties,” Kelly says, glances over her shoulder. “They must’ve got wind of the other club because they’re naming a motorcycle club in Texas as the rival gang.”
“Do you know if any of our guys were hurt?”
“Deuce was shot but, Cobra’s girl was able to remove the bullet.”
My mind immediately drifts to the illusive Yankovich and I wonder if this has anything to do with him. Did he set up this other club to take the fall? It’s not a stretch considering he set us up to believe the Corrupt Bastards were behind the bomb.
“Apparently, Deuce’s old man was the president of this Texas club,” Nico reveals. “Some shit went down after he was killed and Deuce has been running ever since.”
“How do you know this?”
He gives me a noncommittal shrug and shoves his hands into his pockets.
“I know things,” he replies. “Seems like your boy Deuce got shot paying for the sins of his father.”
The irony of Nico’s words isn’t lost on me and, my eyes find Kelly’s from across the room.
Cursed love.
Too cursed to keep.