“Lilly is not the fucking enemy,” I said. “Keep her out of this. It doesn’t matter what she wants for her father, because before you showed up, I was taking her to Union Station. I was helping her leave this God-forsaken hellhole so she could start life anew. Do not make her a part of this.”
Lane groaned.
“Fine,” he said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you fucking lied to me. You betrayed my trust. And I need your trust, Cole.”
I had nothing in response to that. I had lied. I could get all technical about how I had only kept information hidden, not given any false statements, but like Lane had said, this wasn’t a fucking courtroom. This was about a brotherhood splintering apart, and that depended much more on understanding than on nuance.
“Look, I’m not going to kick you out or tell you to leave; this time is way too important for me to act like a petulant shithead, and it’s too important for you to be like you were a year and a half ago,” he said. “But I need to know that you understand what’s going on. Tomorrow at noon, I’m going to call an emergency meeting with all the officers of both clubs. I want you there. And I want you to apologize.”
It didn’t feel like a power play by Lane. It felt like the needed medicine.
“I want you to apologize for not telling us about her. And in return, I will defend you from accusations of bias. I’ll tell everyone what you told me. That she’s on our side, that this doesn’t affect how you feel about Lucius, and that if anything, this apology will bring us closer together. But I have to have you in that room, Cole. I cannot ride into battle with unspoken words between us or between us and the club. Please, for the sake of everyone and everything, be there at noon tomorrow.”
I bowed my head.
“Cole?”
I didn’t say a word.
I was still the same asshole, the same pussy, the same passive-aggressive shithead that I was a year and a half ago. Founding my own off-shoot of the Black Reapers had not made me a man. It had merely given me external status, not internal development.
“Well, you’re not fucking deaf, so I know you heard all of this,” Lane said. “If you don’t show up tomorrow, I’m going to assume that you’ve chosen to withdraw again. I’ll assume leadership and make Owen or Phoenix the President of the Gray Reapers. But please do not give me a fucking reason to do that. Goddamnit, Cole, don’t let this shit split us again.”
I finally looked up at Lane. His eyes were pleading. Begging. Watering.
“We’ll see.”
What a fucking cowardly response.I was still the same fucking Cole.
Lane nodded, snorted, and left the apartment, slamming the door shut. I heard his motorcycle come to life less than a minute later. I looked over at Lilly.
“If you want—”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “Just get whatever you need and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Lilly nodded. She went into my bathroom, grabbed some things, and came out. All the while, I did not move from where I was, frozen by the accuracy of Lane’s accusations.
Why should I show my face at the clubhouse tomorrow? Why the fuck would I do that? After this?
No, Lane was right. Owen or Phoenix needed to take ownership of the club. I was in no position, no state of mind to do that. I was too fucked in the head, too passive-aggressive, too unwilling to face the hard truths. I’d played victim for so long to the asshole tendencies of my brother that it had gone from legitimate gripe to just being a fucking pussy.
Would I get better? Sure, at some point. Would it be with the Gray Reapers? I really didn’t think I deserved that chance.
Lilly returned, put her toiletries into her bag, and slung it back over her shoulder as she faced me.
“You know, no one has ever defended me like you did,” she said. “You’re not all the things your brother said. You’re a good man.”
I appreciated the compliment, but it was too late for me with the Reapers. Maybe not in my life, certainly not in my life, actually, but with those men…
Then Lilly did something that shocked the hell out of me.
She pulled me in for a kiss.
It was a brief kiss. I didn’t really kiss her back but for a moment or two. But it was the kind of bold, romantic action I never would have expected from her.
“Thank you,” she said.
And then she started walking to my bike. I followed her, feeling more guilty than ever that I would never be able to live up to my fullest potential.
