Page 24
I shouldn’t be doing this. A long time ago, I promised myself that I would never let anyone else get close to me. Resisting her is going to be a battle, and even after just meeting her a few hours ago, I fear it’s a battle I’m going to lose. But I can’t. It’s better for everyone that I stay away from her. Even if her smile chases away demons that I thought would haunt me forever.
“Shit,” I curse, pulling my phone out of my pocket and calling Streak, the club’s tech guru. He’s been with us for four years, and the guy can find anything about anyone.
“What’s up, Brother?” he answers, and I only have a moment to remind myself that I shouldn’t do this before I’m answering him.
“I need you to look into someone.”
“Absolutely,” he practically shouts into the phone, and I can hear the smile in his voice. He lives for this shit. “What do you know about ‘em? And what do you want?”
“Her name is Ali, she’s a reporter, and she lives next door to me. That’s really all I know, and I want everything you can find.”
The phone falls silent, and I pull it away to make sure he’s still on the line. When I press it back to my ear, the only sound is the clicking of keys. “Is this, uh, personal?”
“Yeah.”
“She important?” he asks, hesitantly.
“Just get me the information,” I growl into the phone before hanging up on him. I swear to God, these fucking bikers gossip worse than old women but my life and my past have never been acceptable topics. Everyone knows that.
Turning away from the window, I lean back on the counter and cross my arms over my chest, doing my best to resist the urge to go back over there. I could lie and say that I just wanted to check on her but the truth is, I need to see her. I just want this weight lifted off me, even if it is only temporary. I need to know if being around her makes the act of living a little easier to bear. It’s so fucking selfish and fucked up, but I’m afraid that I’m already past the point of caring. My gaze lands on the nails in the wall where pictures once hung, and the pain is back in full force, throbbing throughout my entire body as I think about all the reasons why I’ll never be truly happy again.
I don’t need to go into the living room and pull the photos that used to adorn all the walls in this house out of boxes, because the face in them is already burned into my memory. I’ll never forget. It will never get easier. This is my hell, and not even death will ease the torment – not like I deserve any better. I deserve every single ounce of pain that this world can dish onto my plate, and even when my life ends, it won’t be enough. I took something so good and pure, so full of life and love, and in my own stupidity, I destroyed it. Maybe not directly, but through my inaction, I might as well have.
I wasn’t always like this but after years in darkness, I adapted to survive. The only way to make it out of it at all was to twist and contort myself until I was just as bad as the thing that put me in there. To strip away pieces of my soul until I had nothing left. I feel nothing. Except the pain. After all this time, I am a monster and monsters belong in hell.
A girl like Ali deserves so much more than a man like me. I’m no good for anyone, especially her. But I don’t know that I care. Or if I’m even able to stay away. She makes me feel something other than pain and misery for the first time in a long time, and I may already be addicted to that.
A car door slams outside, and I spin around, watching as an attractive woman walks up to Ali’s house and goes inside. Sighing, I turn around and grab my phone off the counter, knowing that I won’t go over there now. I quickly check the time and start heading for the door. I’m going to be late for church, and I’m sure Blaze will be pissed but I just couldn’t walk away. Yanking open the front door, a large yellow envelope falls at my feet, and I look down, the hair on my neck raising as I slowly look up and scan the street in front of me. Everything looks normal, and I feel like I’m going a little crazy. I’ve been vigilant, watching for whoever has been following me but I never fucking see them.
Bear lets out a low growl behind me, sensing my unease and nudges against my leg as he peers out the door. I reach down and scoop up the envelope, slamming the door, and locking it before I grab the gun out of my waistband and set it on my dining room table. After sliding into the chair, I pull out the contents of the package and start flipping through this new batch of photos.
“Shit,” I hiss when I get to the last ten or so. They are all of Ali today as I carried her up to her porch and helped her clean up her yard. What was this? Like, two hours ago…how the fuck did they get them so fast? The photos fall out of my hand, and I prop my elbows up on the table and rest my head against my fists, my knee bouncing under the table.
Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? It makes me so fucking uncomfortable to see the photos of her, knowing that I led whoever the fuck this is right to her. It may make me a shitty ass person but I should have just stayed away. She wouldn’t even be on this person’s radar if I had. Even thinking that though, makes it hard to breathe. I don’t want to stay away from her. And then the guilt is back, reminding me of all the reasons that I should stay far, far away from her. It’s like a war is raging inside me, each side pulling at me until I’m afraid that I’ll tear right down the middle.
Another photo catches my eye underneath all the others, and I pull it out, my heart seizing in my chest. It’s a photo of Ali petting Bear on the porch, and there’s a note on this one. When I read it, I slam my fist down onto the table, my blood running cold.
She’s almost as gorgeous as our girl.
Rage that I’ve kept buried so long bubbles out of me, and the face that I was trying so hard to forget is front and center in my mind. Pain hits me. A stab of white-hot agony smacks right in my chest, and it’s just as potent as the day I lost everything. I lay my forehead on the table, closing my eyes as I try to just fucking breathe without a wave of pain rocking me, but the longer I sit, the angrier I get. My fist starts pounding against the table as I think about that piece of shit sending me this photo. He won. He doesn’t get to taunt me with that fact for the rest of my life. Not like I need the reminder anyway. Each time I close my eyes, it’s all I can fucking see.
I look up and focus on the photo again, rereading the words over and over, the anger building higher and higher until it feels like my body is going to come apart at the seams. Reaching under the table, I flip it and jump out of my chair, screaming out into the empty house in a desperate attempt to release this anger before it kills me. Photos flutter through the air as I march to the door and press my forehead to it as I pound my fist against the wood, screaming again in agony. The girl I love is gone, and it’s all my fucking fault. This pain, the all consuming, eat away at your soul, rip me apart because it would feel better than this, anguish is all that I deserve. If I could go back in time and fix things, I would, but life is never that kind.
Spinning, I pick up a chair and throw it against the wall. Anything to release this anger because I feel like it’s burning me alive, eating away at my insides. It shatters and knocks a box down off a shelf. Picture frames scatter across the hardwood floors, and I’m face to face with her once again. I fall to my knees and place my hand over my chest as I struggle to draw air into my lungs. Each breath stabbing my insides, and if I close my eyes, I can picture the day I met her perfectly in my head. Her smiling face taunts me, pulling me deeper into that darkness, and any light that Ali gave me today is gone. Once again, I’m at the bottom of the pit, and there is no escape.
* * * *
Blaze:
Where the fuck are you?
Me:
On my way.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and drop my head, unable to look at her face any longer. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here but I’m sure that I missed church and Blaze is pissed. I can’t seem to give a shit right now though. Bear whines from his place next to me, and I run my hand through his fur. When Emma handed me this little ball of fur that she rescued from a shelter, I thought she was crazy, but now I’ve kind of gotten used to him. In fact, this house wouldn’t be the same without his crazy antics.
Sighing, I get up off the floor and quickly pick up all the frames, doing my best to avoid looking at them. I can’t stand to look at her, and I can’t stand to get rid of these photos either. My eyes close, and I breathe out slowly, shoving all this shit down where it belongs again as I return the box to the shelf. I’m the VP of this club, and all these guys count on me. I can’t go losing my shit on them.
