Not when he looked so in pain when he snapped to.
“Her loss.”
He stops walking and so do I. I turn to find him staring at me curiously. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I can’t imagine loving someone better than you.”
“You hardly know me,” he argues but it sounds weak.
“I know that you’re loyal to those you care about. I know you treat others with respect. I know you love this club and everyone in it. You protected Connor and I when you didn’t have to. And I know that you would die for those you love. I may not know much about you but I know what’s most important.”
“And that is?”
“That you’re a good man. Possibly the best that I know.”
He swallows thickly, his muscles turning to stone. Releasing my duffel bag from his shoulder he then hands it over to me. I go to take it from him and he makes sure our fingers don’t even brush.
I stare at him perplexed.
How can he shut down so easily?
“I have to go.” His voice sounds tormented. Before I can make a reply he turns swiftly and walks away.
And I just want the day to come where he doesn’t walk away from me but runs towards me.
Oak
My phone vibrates in my pocket and before we enter The Pit, our night club that we own, I glance down at it.
Nora.
My younger sister by nine years. My only sibling. Despite our age difference we were inseparable. That is until I enlisted.
My heart aches because it wasn’t only Gracie Mae I was avoiding for the past month, I was avoiding my sister, too.
“You need to take that?” Snake asks as he slides next to me.
I stare down at the screen that has a picture of her. Her deep auburn hair frames her face and her blue eyes, the very same shade as mine, are behind cat eye framed tortoise glasses. She’s smiling in the picture but not in the way that she used to.
Only another reminder of how I failed being her big brother, her protector.
Eight years ago everything changed for her. And no matter how many times she’s tried to tell me otherwise I hold myself responsible.
Because if I hadn’t of gotten shitfaced to the point where I blacked out what happened to her wouldn’t have happened.
But on the first anniversary of their deaths I just wanted to fucking forget. No, I wanted more than that, I didn’t want to fucking live.
I’ve never admitted that to anyone.
And it wasn’t just that night that I’ve thought about it.
There were too many nights where I’ve contemplated on swallowing a bullet.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come close.
Where I had the pistol in my mouth and my finger steady on the trigger.
But before I closed my eyes and went to pull the trigger I would look at the picture of Nora and I that I have positioned on my night stand.
