He didn’t deny it.
Not many of my sister’s friends truly liked me.
That included the Truth Tellers MC.
Not that I’d done anything to them, but my personality wasn’t super welcoming or likable.
I’d had a long life, and I was only twenty-one years old.
I just didn’t see the world with anything less than suspicion.
My mom had ensured that I’d struggled from the moment I was born. If it wasn’t for Searcy, I probably wouldn’t even be alive today, it was that bad.
I’d spent many nights starving, and watched my siblings do the same. To be quite truthful, that was what had pushed me to get a job at thirteen. I’d illegally started to work at a gas station restocking. I got to work for cash—which was way below minimum wage—during the wee hours of the morning.
I used to sneak out at one o’clock in the morning to go stock, then I used to climb in bed only for my mom to pull me out of bed at five-thirty to work at the diner.
Eventually, I stopped doing what she wanted, and started working for myself because at least that way I’d actually get paid and not have to do manual labor for free.
Needless to say, I was a bitch and had a damn good reason for acting that way. I was raised to be that way, and I wouldn’t apologize if people didn’t like me.
If you didn’t have any friends, they couldn’t disappoint you.
Everyone always disappointed you eventually.
“I have a gut feeling that you got that woman fired, and she retaliated by putting sugar in your gas tank.” Jasper pulled me out of my morose thoughts.
I lifted my head from my knees and said, “Great.”
“I’ll get it fixed for you. All it should take is draining the gas tank and changing the fuel filter.”
I had a feeling that was going to be a pain in the ass, which was why I got up and got him a box of cookies.
He glanced at them. “You’re ready to share them now?”
I shrugged. “Feels like I should, since you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart.” I paused. “I’m sorry for making you miss that party.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t really want to go anyway.”
I walked to the fridge and pulled out the milk, walking back toward him with it.
He took it and placed it on the side of my hood before saying, “I wonder if these cookies are as good as you say they are?”
I popped open the box, and the smell of cinnamon and chocolate wafted to my nose.
I picked one up and handed it to him since his fingers were disgustingly dirty, and reached for my own.
He took a bite and paused just as I took a healthy bite of my own.
My eyes met his, and I saw that he was surprised.
I allowed my gaze to travel his face for a long second—something that I didn’t usually allow myself to do seeing as he got all butthurt every time I looked at him for longer than three seconds—and noticed his hair was longer.
I’d heard him talking to his sister once about how his hair was turning gray.
It was, but it wasn’t.
It was mostly black, with a few strands of silver interspersed throughout.
