Chapter Six
Ty
It’s late afternoon when Zach turns up at the Hammer. Although I haven’t finished work, I shut down the laptop as he prowls the length of my office, looking as though he wants to smash his fist through the walls. While we’ve trashed plenty of rooms in the past, I draw the line when it comes to my club.
“Trouble?”
He stops pacing, grabs a chair, and straddles it. “This dating shit’s hard work.”
I smirk—can’t help myself. “You’re not dating, man. You’re pussy-whipped, and you love it.”
“Fuck you.” He gives me the finger. “Say that again, and I’ll break your neck.”
“I don’t need to say it. You’re getting married, for chrissakes. In a fucking cathedral.”
“It’s not a cathedral.” He grinds the words between his teeth. “And that’s not the problem.”
“Are you going to tell me the problem, or do you just want to go out and get wasted?” Except I’m not that invested in going out tonight and getting slammed. Not when Jas is waiting for me.
She’s not been back in my life for a day, and already I’d rather be with her than one of my brothers. It’s because she’s here for only a week. It’d be different if there wasn’t an end date on this crazy sex-only deal we made.
I need to get some more condoms.
“It’s about tomorrow night.” Zach digs his fingers through his hair, frustration clear on his face, and I force myself to concentrate. Brothers first, last, and always. Ten years ago, I forgot that rule, and look where it got me. “Grace convinced herself I’m running guns or some shit.”
That gets my full attention. “Why would she think that?”
“I told her we were doing a protection run for Hawk, and she freaked. I had to explain we’re helping out his cousin. Guess I told her more than I intended.”
I don’t answer right away. Before Zach met Grace, it would never have occurred to him to tell a chick about anything he did for another brother. But Grace isn’t some random chick. And that’s the answer.
“She’s your old lady. Whatever you tell her is your responsibility.”
“She thinks it’s dangerous. Wanted to know why we couldn’t let the cops sort it out.”
“She didn’t grow up in the life. She doesn’t have a clue. You need to work out how to deal with that.”
Not like Jas. She knew what went down. Hell, she knew far more than anyone would’ve guessed. I won’t tell Zach he should keep his mouth shut, when I used to tell Jas everything.
Sure, I wasn’t a full member of the Bastards back then. But I was a prospect for our last year together, and if anyone had guessed how much I spilled my guts to her, they would’ve given me hell, no matter whose son I was.
It still wouldn’t have matched the shit that went down when I finally confronted my family about the way they treated her. Told them she was mine and if they didn’t shut the fuck up about her, I’d walk.
It was no idle threat. I’d had it with the side-eyes every time Jas walked in a room. If they wanted me, they had to accept her.
Don’t think about it.
Zach grunts and some of his tension eases. “You going to Odin’s tonight?”
I generally visit Odin’s, the bar Zach’s brother owns, for a couple of hours on a Saturday night before ending up at the Hammer to make sure none of the patrons ever forget who owns the place. Damn. Didn’t realize until now what a rut I’ve gotten into. Maybe I’ll shake things up and take Jas to the bar instead.
“Sure.” I shove the image aside. The only place I’m ever taking her is in her apartment. “You?”
He cracks a grin. “Yeah. With my old lady.”
…
Jasmine
I stare at Mom’s bedroom door. It’s the only room I haven’t been in yet. Stupid. It should’ve been the first room I cleared out, but I couldn’t screw up the nerve to confront the ghosts.
Not just of Mom. She’s everywhere I look.
Of Viper. When he strolled into the apartment as though he owned it and then dragged me in there.
Of what happened in that room later that same night.
I exhale a measured breath and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. The room needs to be stripped and, since I refused my dad’s offer to fly over with me so he could help with everything, it sure as hell won’t get done if I keep avoiding it.
The door swings open. No nebulous specter reaches for my throat, and dust motes dance in the shards of sunlight that spill between the half-closed drapes.
Such a sad, faded room. Or maybe it’s just me seeing it through jaded eyes. Mom always seemed happy enough with her choices. I square my shoulders and march in, refusing to hear the echoes of the past that try and claim me.
…
It’s gone eleven, almost the same time Ty turned up last night. I take a deep breath to try and control the butterflies in my stomach, but it just makes me lightheaded. Honestly, it’s crazy to be so excited about seeing him again, but whatever. After the day I had, I’ve been looking forward to tonight far more than I should.
After hours gutting Mom’s room and hauling another dozen boxes that I need to sort through into the living room, I popped out and got some essentials. Mainly beer, although Ty seemed to enjoy the Chianti we had yesterday. Another essential I bought today was a sexy satin and lace babydoll in mistletoe green. A crazy extravagance, but I love the feel of it next to my skin, and I can’t wait to see his face when I drop my boring, ankle-length bathrobe. I’ve never bought myself expensive lingerie before, but I could definitely get used to it.
With anyone other than Ty?
My mood deflates, and I pour myself a second glass of wine. I’m not going to think about the end of the week, or the fact that after Friday I’ll never see him again. A week might not be long enough for me to get over him, but it’s long enough to bury the past for good, and that can only be a good thing. Even after just one night together the anger in him has faded. All I want is for us to say goodbye as friends this time around.
If I keep telling myself that, I might even start to believe it.
…
I wake with a start, the pain in my neck making it impossible to move for a few seconds. It’s dark, and I blink, frowning as I try and figure out why I’m curled up on the couch.
Alone.
I squint at my cell. Three a.m. Obviously, he decided to stand me up. It’s stupid to be hurt, but I am, and I grip my cell until my fingers ache, but it doesn’t ease the disappointment that he isn’t here, and I can’t even call him as I don’t have his number.
Right. And he doesn’t have mine, so if an emergency came up, there’s no way he could’ve contacted me. It’s perfectly reasonable and makes complete sense, and I don’t damn well believe it.
He just didn’t like the way I took the initiative this morning. I always used to defer to him, and he always loved being in charge. If this is his way of asserting his fucking male privilege, then he can shove it.
I suck in a deep breath. Calm the hell down. The main—the only—question is if he turns up here again, am I going to let him in or tell him to fuck off?
Even though I already know the answer, I pretend to think about the pros and cons. But who am I trying to impress? I’ll let him in. And I won’t let him know he managed to upset me. For God’s sake, it’s pathetic he still has the power to upset me, so I sure as hell won’t announce that fact.
We’re not dating, and if he’s spending the night with another woman, then it’s only what he virtually told me he’d do. I can handle it, and when we see each other again, I certainly won’t ask him what he was doing tonight.
If we see each other again.
…
A distant banging thumps through my head, and I force open one eye and check the time. It’s almost seven, which means I’ve overslept, but the banging continues, which means it’s not part of my fractured dreams.
I stumble out of my bedroom and pull on my robe. There’s only one person I can think would be at the door at this time in the morning, and I’ve no idea how I’m supposed to greet him. With a smile? Or a smack around the head?
I groan and rest my forehead against the front door as I try and wake up and sort out my thoughts.
Stay cool, calm, and collected. Another essential I bought yesterday was an embarrassingly large supply of condoms, and I might as well get my money’s worth. Any other time that’d make me grin, but I have the horrible vision of Ty screwing another woman last night, and no matter how adult I intend to be about the situation, the image turns my stomach. Yes, I agreed to his terms, even though I didn’t like it, but the truth is I never thought he’d actually do it, not when we had less than a week together.
Before I unhook the security chain, I peek through the spyhole just to be on the safe side. He has his back to me as though he’s on the point of leaving, so I tighten the belt of my bathrobe and open the door.
He turns, and anything I might’ve said locks in my throat as I stare at the takeaway breakfast in his hands.
“Morning.” He gives me a grin as though this is completely normal, and I shuffle back so he can come inside. “Hot chocolate and a bacon and egg roll.” He hands me the cup and paper bag, and there’s a burning sensation in my chest that threatens to overwhelm me.
I clear my throat and kick the door shut. “Thanks.” My voice is croaky, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he strolls into the living room and makes himself at home on the couch. And because I can’t think of anything else to say right then, I take a quick sip of the hot chocolate.
The sugar hits me, and I can’t help the wince, but I swallow and manage a game smile.
“What’s the matter?” He pauses with his roll halfway to his mouth. “Not enough sugar?”
“No, it’s great.” I take another mouthful and manage not to gag. It’s been years since I gave up sugar, but there’s no way I’m telling him that when he’s remembered, after so long, what a sweet tooth I used to have. “Unexpected,” I add as I sit next to him and open up the bag.
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs and looks a little uncomfortable. “Thought this’d get me through the door. I couldn’t get away last night.”
I place the cup on the floor. It doesn’t sound as though he was with another woman, after all. “Everything okay?” My voice is deliberately casual, and I bite into my roll. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.
“Just some trouble at the club. Could’ve sorted it out, but some fucking dickhead called the cops.”
“Mm.” I nod, my mouth full of egg, but I don’t really get it. Not the trouble at the clubhouse—that’s too easy to believe. It’s the calling of the cops. None of the Bastards would do that. At least, not from what I remember.
“They won’t make that mistake again.”
“I bet they won’t.” Maybe he’s talking about a clueless hang-around. I don’t want to know the fallout from that, but blood and broken bones were probably involved.
“No one screws me over at work.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, since we were talking about the MC, but it makes me wonder. Does he still work for his dad? I guess so. The stripper business Jett owned was always profitable. And while I have many issues with the whole idea of exploiting women for the benefit of sleazy shitheads, now’s hardly the time or place to list them.
Right now, I just want to find out everything I can about Ty’s life, as though filling in the missing pieces will somehow make it easier to move on.
“How’s it going? At work, I mean?”
“It’s okay. Makes a profit.”
“Mm.” I’m not sure what I wanted him to say. Maybe deep down, all I wanted to hear was that he’d broken away from Jett’s fleshpot empire.
Like that’d ever happen. Jett never made any secret of the fact he expected Ty to take over his business when he retired, and Ty always seemed keen. We’ll always be okay, he told me on more than one occasion, and the one time I tried to tell him how uncomfortable it all made me, he thought someone had made a mean comment about my mom and threatened to knock their brains out.
I don’t want to talk about the Bastards. Don’t want to talk about the brotherhood at all. I take another bite of my breakfast and pretend not to notice the quick sideways glance he gives me, as though he expected more questions.
After a few moments, he breaks the silence. “Need your number, babe.”
“Sure.” I pull my cell from my pocket, and we exchange numbers. Will he delete mine on Friday? Will I delete his?
He screws up his empty bag, drops it next to him, and drapes his arm around my shoulders. “Did you miss me last night?” He leers at me, and I laugh and snuggle against him. I’ve missed this so much.
“Yes. I was hoping for a massage. My muscles were killing me.”
“You shouldn’t do heavy lifting. I’m here for that.”
Whoa. I didn’t expect him to leap all over that part of my comment, and a warm glow spreads through me. “I didn’t. I’m only clearing out all the garbage and small things. Really, I was just hanging out for the massage.”
His hand slides inside my robe. “I could do that, if you make it worth my while.”
“I’m still eating.” I wave my half-finished breakfast under his nose. “Oh. And I bought more supplies yesterday, so we’re covered for the week.”
His big body shakes in a silent laugh that I remember so well, and a bittersweet ache grips my heart. I’m so not going to get over you by Friday.
“So did I. You plan on doing anything other than fuck this week? Because I’m up for that.”
I cradle his goods with my free hand. “Hm. So you are.” I tease him a little, and he growls and plunges his fingers through my hair.
“I’ve had a hard-on all fucking night. Don’t push your luck if you want to finish eating.”
I take another bite of breakfast, even though I could easily toss it and eat Ty instead. “A few more minutes won’t matter, then. I don’t want to get indigestion.”
“I’ll give you indigestion.” He hauls me onto his lap, and I laugh down at him, holding my now-cold breakfast above his head. As I lean into him for a kiss, my cell rings.
He swears. “Who the fuck’s calling you at this time of the morning?”
I squint at my phone. “It’s Dad.” I climb off Ty, who doesn’t look thrilled by the interruption, and answer my cell. “Hey.”
“Hey, honey. Just checking in that everything’s okay.”
“It’s all good.” There’s nothing more to tell him than when we last spoke yesterday morning, but he promised to ring every day, and except for one time, Dad’s never broken his promises to me. “I’m on track to finish by Friday.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want me there for the memorial service? I can fly out and be with you Wednesday night. It’s not a problem.”
I know it’s not, and we had this discussion before I left, but he’s mentioned it every time he’s phoned, as though he thinks I’m going to change my mind.
“No, it’s fine.” It’s not fine, but I don’t want to get into another conversation about it with Ty right next to me. “Look, I have to go. Speak to you later.”
“Sure, honey. I love you. Marina sends her love, too.”
I close my eyes for a couple of seconds. “Love you both, too. Bye.”
I balance my cell on the arm of the couch, and for some reason I’m reluctant to look at Ty, so I make a big fuss of wrapping the remnants of my breakfast up in its paper bag. When that’s done to my satisfaction, I fold my arms and shoot him a defensive glance over my shoulder. Why’s he keeping so quiet?
He gives me an odd smile. “You’re still close to your dad, then?”
“Yeah.” I focus on his throat. I don’t know why I’m being such an idiot. Maybe it’s because the last time we discussed my dad we ended up yelling at each other. Well, Ty yelled. I ended up in tears. Not one of our best moments.
“It worked out all right in the end, you moving in with him and your stepmom?”
He sounds calm and reasonable. Why shouldn’t he? It’s all water under the bridge. Hell, we’re both adults now. I should at least act like one and look him in the eye.
“Yes.” That’s all I can manage, as though I don’t want to confide in him, when the truth is there’s so much I want to tell him. But after so long, where would I even begin?
He grunts, obviously fine with my reluctance to share, and I stifle a flare of regret. It’s better this way, keeping everything shallow and superficial. If we start talking about my family, that takes it to another level. And this thing between us has no levels, only sex and closure.
“She wasn’t a bitch, then?”
“Who? Marina?” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, and a strange little pain squeezes deep inside my chest. Sometimes I’m not sure I would’ve survived if it hadn’t been for Marina. “No. She’s lovely.”
“They ever have any kids?”
I clear my throat. It’s stupid to let Ty’s concern affect me so much, but I can’t help it. “No. It’s so unfair. She’d make the best mom.”
Not many women would’ve opened their arms to a traumatized stepdaughter the way she did to me, or taken the time to find out why she was in such a mess, or ensure she received therapy.
She even kept her word and never told Dad what Viper did to me.
Ty scowls, but it’s not directed at me, and a shiver skates along my spine. Please don’t go there…
“You would’ve made the best mom.” It sounds like an accusation, but the pain is still there, buried in each word. Jesus, I don’t want to talk about it. Why does he want to, after all this time?
Closure. It screams through my head, but this isn’t what I meant. I suck in a harsh breath, try to focus. “Who knows?” My attempt to keep my voice light fails dismally.
Silence beats between us in tandem with my heart. I should’ve known we’d discuss this, but I didn’t think he’d care after all this time, and I sure as hell had no intention of reminding him.
“You would.” His voice is flat as if that’s not up for debate. “You ever think about what might’ve happened with us if we hadn’t lost the baby?”