“Ángel! Why would you do such a thing?”
“I didn’t have a choice, Mamá.” I reach for her, but she pulls away. “He was never going to give you a divorce, he’d have continued to haunt you. And then Donovan… you saw he was already starting to take more of an interest in him and get him involved in club business, I had to stop that from happening. You know how smart Donovan is, do you think Frank would have ever let him go to college? And he needs even more protection from Frank now, considering he’s… well, you know.”
Tears fill her eyes as she comes to terms with why I had to distance myself from her, why I stayed in contact with Frank, and why he granted her the divorce so easily.
“But Ángel, you didn’t have to make a deal with the devil to save us, we could have found a way.”
“I was doing what I thought was best for you both, Mamá.”
I reach for her again and this time she lets me pull her into a hug, and there we stay, her crying against my chest as I try my best to comfort her.
It’s the early hours of the morning and I’m lying awake in the guest room; partly because I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I’ve shared this bed with Elizabeth and I hate being in it alone… but also because Miguel’s words are repeating in my mind. What he said about Frank never riding again, never being free. I always knew Frank was full of shit, but seeing it from that perspective, I’m realizing his entire life philosophy is also a load of shit.
I love the club, and I love my brothers; I’d take a bullet for any one of them. And of course I love my bike, and the ride. But by prioritizing the club and some shitty rule my dad made up nearly thirty years ago, it means I’ve lost the only woman I’ve ever loved, and my brother… my own blood.
I’ve really fucked this up… But I can make it right, I know I can.
Chapter 26
Elizabeth
Ifranticallywipethepaint from my hands as my phone rings. Once they’re clean enough to not destroy it, I reach for it and see Donovan’s photo filling the screen, before answering and putting him straight on speaker phone.
“Hey,” I say, placing the phone on the top step of the ladder. “How are you doing?”
“Not too bad, you?”
“Not too bad.”
He chuckles down the phone. “How are you really doing?”
“Shit,” I laugh, “I feel like shit… you?”
“Same.”
I pick up the roller and continue to paint the wall I’d started.
“What’s that weird squelching noise?” he asks, and I can practically see the grossed-out expression on his face.
“I’m trying to distract myself by decorating Slim’s spare room.”
“Hmm, and how’s that working out for you?”
“Oh great, I’m not at all thinking about how the man I fell in love with turned out to be a bigoted asshole, and that even though I know I should hate him, I can’t because I love him and I miss him so much it hurts… yeah, decorating is really helping.”
“Wow, you weren’t lying, you really have resorted to pure sarcasm to stop yourself from crying.”
“Yeah,” I say, “not sure it’s working though. Anyway, what are you up to?”
“Promise you won’t judge me if I tell you?”
“You know I won’t.”
He sighs. “I’m hiding under the bleachers watching the football practice.”
“Hmm, and how’s that working out for you?” I ask.
“Oh great,” he chuckles, “I’m not at all thinking about how my coming out fucked up both of our relationships with my brother, and then the icing on the cake is losing my own relationship too… Huh… you might be onto something with this sarcasm thing.”
