nine
“Apparently, Cricket here bonded with some chick over a tube of toothpaste.”
Cricket shot Country a scathing look, and Country responded with a negligent shrug. “That wasn’t told to you so you could run around gossiping like a schoolgirl about it.”
“But was it a secret?” Country challenged.
“Well, no, but—”
“Then who cares.” Country waved the brother off and took another long puff of his cigarette. Yeah, he was supposed to be quitting, since Red enforced the no-smoking policy inside the clubhouse walls rule because apparently, smoking wasn’t healthy for babies, children, or the women carrying the babies.
Jesus, he felt like he was in a prison full of women instead of the badass biker clubhouse he’d joined. Any time he walked through the front door these days, he was nearly bowled over by the sweet smells of flowers and clean linens and fresh-baked desserts—he wasn’t complaining about that last one. A Southern man like himself took sweets very seriously.
He was just hormonal or something. He blamed the influx of estrogen taking over the grounds. And hell, he wanted to be mad at the brothers for allowing it to go as far as it had, but he knew if his Talia was here, he wouldn’t have shit to say about anything.
His world would be right as rain.
Instead, his world was nothing but rain and dark clouds and thunderstorms. He hadn’t had a good day since…well, since she’d left.
Imagine that, from a self-proclaimed forever bachelor to a man pining over the one that got away. Sometimes, he disgusted himself, but there was no denying that she’d done a number on him, and now he was walking around a shell of a man without her.
“He’s got that faraway look again,” Moose grunted.
“Probably thinking about his woman.” Quick responded with such pity, Country snapped right the hell out of his daze and glared at them all.
“I don’t recall giving permission for any of you to discuss my personal life.”
“As if I gave you permission to air mine?”
Country rolled his eyes at Cricket. “Are you still harping about that?”
“It was, like, five minutes ago!”
“And it’s in the past now.” Country could practically see the steam coming from his brother’s ears. He kind of felt bad…but then he lit up a fresh cigarette, and all was right again. “So, I don’t know if y’all noticed, but there’s some new girl that’s been hanging around town lately.”
“I think we established that already,” Quick pointed out.
“Not the toothpaste girl,” Country corrected, “the one that’s been hanging around the bars, running up college boys’ tabs, making a general spectacle of herself.”
“Oh, yeah, that one.” Quick nodded. “She’s Moose’s future sister-in-law.”
Moose’s head snapped around so fast, Country was concerned he’d break his neck. “I ain’t getting married, prez, and I appreciate you not assigning me a life sentence without giving me due process first.”
Quick smirked. “Brother, I know the look. You have your eye fixed on that girl. Soon, you’ll be wearing a band around your finger to match the rest of us.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” Country objected. “I ain’t marrying either.”
“Only because your woman is off gallivanting around doing God knows what God knows where, and you’re too pussy to get on your bike and bring her ass back here,” Repo chastised. He scratched his ape fingers across his barrel chest and burped before continuing. “If Talia was my woman—”
“She’s not,” Country growled.
“I would have tracked her ass down and had her tied to my bed before she could touch a pinkie toe outside state lines.”
Country remembered how the VP had done that exact thing to his woman, Red, when he’d first decided to put his claim on her. She’d always been a feisty one, and she hadn’t disappointed. She’d put up one hell of a fight, making the old man work hard for it, but in the end, he’d worn her down, and she’d agreed to wear his patch. Now they had a kid on the way.
Country didn’t necessarily want kids, but he didn’t necessarily not want them either. If Talia hadn’t left, they might very well could be just like the rest of these sorry losers sitting around the table with him drinking beers and shooting the shit on a Saturday night.
Instead of hand-selecting a new tail to take back their bed for the night like they used to do.
Then again, they could have it anytime they wanted now. They didn’t have to shop around, bait hooks, cast their lines into the water, and hope something nibbled.
Who was he kidding? He wasn’t even doing that. He just hated going home to an empty apartment and sleeping in an empty bed.
“Well,” Country told Repo, trying not to reveal to everyone just how miserable he truly was, “that’s not how it works in my relationship.”
“What relationship, man?” Repo tossed back, making Country’s hackles rise. “She straight-up left your ass high and dry, and all you do now is sit around pining for her when she’s probably out there right now getting plowed by some dude named Brad with a buzz cut and a badge. You need to let that shit go and find a chick to bury your troubles in until they ain’t troubles anymore.”
“Look, I appreciate the pep talk, but I’m not in the mood—”
“He’s got a point,” Quick cut in. “You can’t keep going on forever like this. It’s got you checked out most days. It’s obvious you’re not sleeping, and you’re reckless, which, in the field, ain’t good for anyone. We need you back, brother. Not just physically, but mentally too.”
“You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” Quick interrupted him again. “You lost the woman you love, and it’s fucked you up. But it’s not a death sentence. There was a time I thought Jody was my beginning and end”—they all shuddered—“but once I pulled my head out of my ass and realized that life went on and I had more important things to concern myself with, shit got better.”
“It’s different for you,” Country argued. “You had a kid to keep you going, and then you found a good woman who stepped right in and put all the puzzle pieces together.”
“And that shit didn’t happen overnight. I had to put myself together first, then the rest followed.”
“The universe has a way of working things out,” Cricket offered. “Usually when you’re not looking and when you least expect it.”
Stubbing out his half-burned cigarette, Country drank down the three-quarter-full stein in front of him and stood. “Look, I appreciate what y’all are trying to do here, but like I said, my life ain’t up for discussion.”
“You’re leaving?” Quick asked, surprised and a touch hurt or…something. Maybe that was regret Country saw in his eyes. Or he was hallucinating.
“Yeah, like you pointed out, I haven’t been sleeping much lately. I need my beauty rest.” He flipped his hand up in a semblance of a wave to the guys as he started walking, not looking back and completely ignoring their voices calling after him to get his ass back to his chair and hang out.
He wasn’t in the mood.
Outside, he threw a leg over his bike—the only woman in his life right now, and the most reliable—and fired her up. She purred beneath him, the low rumble vibrating between his thighs reminding him of the serenity of the open road. When was the last time he took a trip, alone, just to enjoy the solitude?
He couldn’t remember.
As he sped down the road, he considered the open skies above and leaving all of this behind started sounding better and better by the second. When his apartment complex peeked out of the darkness ahead, he considered blowing right by it and just driving, no stopping, not for anything.
Instead, he turned into the parking lot and rolled to a stop in the spot reserved for him. Parked next to him was Talia’s bike. He’d had it made specially for her, tricked out and top-of-the-line everything. She’d left it as easily as she had him, hadn’t she? As if she didn’t want to have any reminders of their time together.
Man, his chest hurt like a motherfucker. When would that feeling go away? Ever? He didn’t think he could live the rest of his life with that knife-twisting pain in his chest.
Maybe Repo was right. Maybe he needed to get back on the wagon and bury that shit. Sometimes that was what it took, just getting back in the game, distracting yourself until the rest faded into a distant memory—one without the power to cripple you with the changing of the wind.
Suddenly, he wanted to punch something. To scream and shout and create a scene. Lifting his foot, he slammed it into the other bike and watched the heavy machine topple over onto its side. Metal crunched and a couple tiny pieces broke off and scattered on the asphalt.
It didn’t make him feel any better.
Staring dispassionately, Country shook his head and cranked the engine on his own bike again, then backed it up and turned it toward the street. Then, with no particular destination in mind, he rode the hell out of there.