“Whatever you need to do, come back,” he said. “We need you. If you need to see Kaitlyn, go see her. Just... we need you, brother. I need you.”
No. No, you don’t.
You don’t need someone who always makes the wrong decision.
You don’t.
I opened the door and walked away.
Kaitlyn
Ididn’t intend to do anything but spend the day at home. There was no one I wanted to spend my Friday more with than Michael.
But when I thought about how Michael said he had some business to take care of the club that didn’t involve me, I thought about my own business that I had to take care of. I thought about the people that I had to look out for—namely, Devon—that I had hurt. I had to make amends with her, even if I thought that her actions right now were just plain crazy, if not worse.
I headed over to the hospital, even though it was something I seldom did on my day off, hoping to catch Devon on break. If all went according to plan, I’d catch her right as she headed for the cafe for lunch, as she usually ate alone at those times. If that was still the case today, then perhaps I’d get to talk to her and apologize.
It really was true that it wasn’t any of my business what she did outside of the job. I thought she was risking her career and her life, but she wasn’t my daughter or my little sister. She was an adult my age, and she’d probably considered everything.
I got the hospital, saw Devon’s car still there, and headed straight for the cafe. Sure enough, there she was, in her dark blue scrubs, eating alone, munching on a chicken salad. I took a deep breath, reminded myself to be compassionate and apologetic, and headed her way.
She looked at me, stirred for a second, and then turned her gaze away from me and back to her food.
“Devon,” I said. “I’m sorry for how I acted last night. I was just so thrown off by you being there... I didn’t know how to react. I shouldn’t have judged. I’m sorry.”
Devon took a bite of her salad and didn’t say anything. I tried my best to not say anything or even react in any way that would suggest I was displeased with her silence. I would have obviously preferred for her to say something more, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to compel her.
She took another bite of her salad. I swallowed and put my hand on the table, hoping that the action might spur her to say something.
“Devon—”
“We all do what we have to in order to make ends meet,” she said, but she still didn’t look up at me. “You don’t think I don’t know that working for these guys is dangerous? You don’t think I’m aware of the risks of working for both of them?”
Briefly, she looked up at me. I had never seen her eyes look so hurt, so annoyed at my presence.
“I’ve taken all of the precautionary steps necessary to make sure things don’t get complicated,” she said. “I’m not going to put myself in a spot where my life is at risk.”
I had no idea how to respond to that. I worried that the only thing that would really make things better between us was time, but I worried even more that if I didn’t keep talking, things would just remain as they were. I wouldn’t really get the chance to express how I felt, and our relationship would continue to crumble.
“I just care about—”
“Don’t,” she cut me off. “Don’t you dare say you care about me. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve been through to get this far.”
She had returned her gaze back to her salad, but I was kind of grateful for that. I didn’t know that I could handle her penetrating stare right into my soul.
“Just because you’re a well-off, snobbish nurse doesn’t mean I have to live by your rules,” she said. “Sometimes, life throws you into some difficult decisions. I’ve made mine. I’ve given myself chances to escape. If I have to, I will. Until then...”
She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she stood up, grabbed her salad, and threw the rest of it out. It was very unlike her to throw out unfinished food, but I suppose in some sad way, it served as a testament to how badly she wanted to get away from me—and how badly I’d messed things up.
It was a harsh lesson for me, but right now, I had a bigger problem.
I could easily see Devon talking to the Fallen Saints about how I was a nuisance. They would put two and two together and realize I was the same girl who had gone to Brewskis with Michael—and that would only be further cemented if Devon made mention of how I had gone home with Michael. I had no idea if she knew that part, but we weren’t exactly hiding at the back of the Reapers’ clubhouse. We were pretty obvious.
I liked Michael, but this was all the thinking I needed to do to know that I would never become a nurse for the Black Reapers or the Fallen Saints. Too much bloodshed, too much violence, too much hatred for me to not get caught in the literal crossfire at some point.
With no other reason to be there, I stood up from the table and walked out. I knew the next time I saw Devon, it was not going to be pleasant, but I just hoped that I hadn’t completely sabotaged any chance of us remaining friends.
I got outside when I saw a man waiting by my car that looked familiar.
