I cried, and I cried. Three times I told myself to pull it together. To get off the floor and keep moving. Shit happened. Life went on. Each time, I just curled up into a smaller ball and wept out a fresh batch of tears.
When my back and bottom started to hurt, I lay down on my side. I relished the hardness of my wooden floor against my cheek and side. I didn’t deserve softness. I wasn’t worthy of a bed. I certainly hadn’t been worthy of Pin’s bed. He had been everything I could possibly want. He had been funny and cool and smart and kind-hearted. He was an accountant, which was just perfect and endearing in every way.
He had been so good at being with me. He had understood me when I told him what I wanted out of life. He had laughed at my jokes and made me laugh in return. He had admired my career. He definitely did not anymore, but in the beginning he had thought my job was amazing. He had shown me how much he liked me. He had taken me to that barbecue and invited me into his inner sanctuary, unaware that I entered bearing matches and kerosene.
He had even made me breakfast, and it was sitting right there on the counter, taunting me with its scent. I had fallen in love with him. That was the truth I had to face as I lay there sobbing on my floor.
I had found something that some people spend a lifetime searching for, but I had been too stupid to even realize my luck until it was too late. I could have owned up to everything earlier. I could have told Pin about the investigation after he spent a night on my couch. I could have told him before the barbecue, or even after. He would have listened.
But I had waited and convinced myself that was for the best.
I cried, and I cried, and I knew that this wasn’t like the time I fell off my bike as a child. Those scrapes and bruises had healed with time. The pain had faded. That wasn’t going to happen now. Time was not going to make this better.
This was never, ever going to stop hurting.
Twenty-Three
Pin
I couldn’t stop replaying the scene with Claire in my head.
Even as I raced along the highway on my bike, when I should have been focusing on the road, I kept seeing her face. I kept hearing her telling me to listen, telling me that she had no choice. The roar of my engine couldn’t drown out how stiff and cold she had sounded when she told me to leave.
I didn’t regret anything I had said. She had lied to me, and it hurt me to think of how the whole time I was worshipping her in bed, she had an ulterior moment. She had probably been wondering how to leverage our new level of intimacy.
I didn’t know where I was headed. Just away. If I stayed in La Playa, I would go back to her. I would yell at her some more or beg her to explain, and I didn’t know which was worse.
I had turned back as soon as I exited the apartment building. I had stood near the mailboxes for way too long, and then climbed back up the stairs. I had made it all the way to her door.
And then I heard.
Horrible gut-wrenching sobs came from within. Every bone in my body longed to break down that door and go to her. Even though I knew better, I had cared for her and those feelings wouldn’t evaporate. Every instinct I had longed to comfort Claire if she was in pain. I wanted to hold her and rock her while she cried into my chest.
But that wouldn’t be right. Because she wasn’t mine, and she had never been mine. I didn’t owe her my protection and comfort. She had shown me no respect and had trampled over my heart in her black combat boots. If I went into that apartment just because she was crying, I was saying that I was ok with what she had done.
Besides, she was probably crying because her so-called lead in the case was ruined. She wasn’t sorry about what she had done, that was clear. She was only sorry she got caught. The truth was, I didn’t really know her. I had fallen for an illusion. Had been enamored with a lie. The Claire I knew didn’t even exist. I wanted to comfort a ghost.
So I had turned and ran out of that building as fast as I could. I had gotten a car back to my place and hopped on my bike, without even going into my apartment. I just needed to ride. A long fast ride always cleared my head. It had to work this time because I was going to need it.
My personal wounds inflicted by Claire was one thing, but the implications for Outlaw Souls were also a serious matter. We were suspects in an ongoing investigation. Claire hadn’t come up with Outlaw Souls on her own. I had seen her notes about parents and police and random teenagers. Other people had pointed their fingers at us. Claire was an idiot for believing them, but she had not made the first accusation.
Which meant that we needed to have a meeting as soon as possible. We needed to discuss why we were taking the blame for drug-dealing and child-snatching, and we needed to figure out who was at fault. We needed to solve the problem.
That’s why I had asked Claire to stop investigating. She needed to get out of the way. This was biker business, plain and simple. I couldn’t be distracted by her running around, hurling accusations willy-nilly and asking questions.
It had been stupid to ask her to stop. I may not have known the real Claire, but I did know she was like a dog with a bone. She wasn’t going to release her hold on this case. I saw the way she snapped when I told her she was a bad PI. That had affected her even more than when I called her a whore. Whatever her other faults, she did care about her job.
I cringed at the memory. I didn’t say things like that, especially not to a woman. I had not been myself in that apartment. As a defense mechanism, I had morphed into a monster of a man. I had just been so blind-sided by that stupid fucking notebook. I had been shocked and hurt, and so I had lashed out with whatever weapons came to hand.
I should have known better. I should have been more careful. I had somehow convinced myself that I knew her, just because we had insane chemistry. I didn’t know her. I had met her only weeks ago, and pretty much everything had been a lie.
I was jolted back into the present when my bike drifted too close to the line and the car in the other lane honked at me. I cursed and looked for the nearest exit. It wasn’t good to ride when my head was in such turmoil. My life was pretty shitty at the moment, but I still didn’t want to be scraped off the pavement.
Once I was off the highway, I pulled into the parking lot of a diner and parked my bike. I got off, but didn’t go inside. I just leaned against the bike and thought. I forced myself to consider my relationship (if I could even still call it that) with Claire in chronological order. It was torture, but I ran through each and every detail.
It started that night at Blue Dog Saloon. Claire had been at the bar, and Moves had gone to her. She hadn’t approached us first, but she probably would have at some point, just to get closer to Kim and Trey. She had been cute and personable. A little bit flirty, although back then Kim had been her priority. I should have remembered that. She hadn’t been interested in me at all in the beginning. I was just a stepping stone on her way to cornering Trey. She hadn’t even faked attraction back then.
I had known that at some point. I had been curious about her, but I had known nothing was likely to happen. Everything changed the night we caught Trey. I let out a bitter laugh as I recalled the fake date. As if that had been the only fake thing about Claire. I had thought that because I was helping her with the PI stuff, I was in on the joke. I had been allowed behind the curtain.
