Derek can barely meet my gaze during our romantic scenes. His hands hover awkwardly over my waist like he’s afraid to touch me, his lines even more stilted and stiff than usual. We used to have decent chemistry on stage. Now it’s like performing with a mannequin.
The other girls—the ones who didn’t get the part of Magnolia and already weren’t my biggest fans—have found fresh ammunition for their gossip.
I hear them whispering in the dressing room when they think I’m not around. Nasty rumors that maybe I have a thing for older men. That maybe that’s how I landed the role in the first place.
Maybe I seduced Mr. Davies too.
It makes me sick. But I keep my head high and pretend I don’t hear a thing. What other choice do I have? Confronting them would only create more drama and fuel more rumors and animosity.
At home, things are even worse.
When I finally go back to Uncle Eddie’s house after what happened at the barbecue, he explodes on me. I’ve never heard him yell so loud. His voice booms through the living room, bouncing off the walls, nearly rattling the windows. His face is screwed up in anger, his eyes cold as he goes off.
“What the hell were you thinking, Solana? Getting caught up with him! Ruining your reputation! My brother didn’t raise youto be a club girl. He didn’t raise you to beeasy. Some biker’s plaything!”
Each accusation renders me speechless, my skin prickling from how hurtful they are.
I try to defend myself and tell him what we have is real, but it’s useless. Uncle Eddie won’t hear it. He just keeps yelling, growing even angrier the more he perceives I’m talking back.
For the first time since I’ve been with Silver, shame takes over and I find myself unable to handle this right now.
The tears come before I can stop them. Hot and angry and humiliated.
I don’t say another word, turning and storming to my bedroom, yanking my suitcase out of the closet and throwing clothes inside. Jeans, t-shirts, underwear—I grab whatever I can get my hands on, shoving it all in without folding or caring how it’s packed. My toiletries are next, followed by my laptop and phone charger.
The basics of what I need to survive on my own.
Moses watches from the doorway the entire time, arms crossed and silent. He doesn’t try to stop me or ask me to stay. He watches me go as if he’s as furious with me as Unc is.
I show up on Silver’s doorstep not long after, completely in shambles. My eyes are red and swollen, my nose is running, and I can barely get the words out to explain what happened.
When I try, I stutter and interrupt myself with a sputtering breath.
But Silver doesn’t need me to go into details. At least not right now. He takes one look at me with tears staining my cheeks and the suitcase parked at my side, and he gets it.
He reaches out and takes my things from me, his large hands gentle despite their size and calloused texture. Then he guides me inside with a palm on the small of my back like he’s welcoming me home.
His place that’s warm and safe and smells like him.
For the foreseeable future, I’ve unofficially moved into his place. I’m not sorry about it either.
Why should I be when I didn’t do anything wrong? I was the lonely one. The neglected one. The one Uncle Eddie and Moses never paid attention to. Not even when Kel hurt me and I was falling apart. They were too wrapped up in their own lives to notice anything was off.
Now they want to pretend to care about my wellbeing? They want to act like concerned family members?
The only one who has given a crap about me has beenSilver.
That doesn’t stop just because we’ve been exposed. If anything, Silver’s more attentive than ever. He gives me rides to school every morning, his truck rumbling through the quiet streets of Pulsboro while I sip coffee from a travel mug. He picks me up from practice every evening, waiting in the parking lot with the engine idling, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble.
Part of it is his intense worry about my safety. After what happened with the Road Rebels—the prospect who shot at us and made my ear bleed—Silver doesn’t like the idea that his enemies can come for me at any moment when he might not be around.
He’s on high alert, constantly watching, always on guard.
But I don’t mind his overprotectiveness.
It comforts me after a lifetime of being overlooked. Finally I mean something to someone. He treats me like the most important thing in the world. Like I’m worth protecting and cherishing, and it makes me feel more special than I ever thought I could be.
My babysitting job is done for. Rachel made that clear without even having to say it; she doesn’t want me around Jack anymore, and honestly? I don’t want to be around her either.Not after what she did. She intruded on my privacy by reading my journal and humiliating me in front of the entire club.
