“I’m sorry, darlin’, we got no choice on this.” I wish it didn’t have to be me who ruined another thing for her.
“Raze, you're not gonna let them keep him, are you? Promise me we’ll get him back.” She stares at me as if I actually hold the power to fix this.
“I’m sorry, darlin’.” I kiss her forehead and lead her out the door, onto the street, and toward our car.
“I promised him we’d bring him home. I told him he’d only be with that family they placed him with for a few days,” she cries as I drive us back to the club.
“I know ya did.” I stare at the road, trying to hold back tears of my own. Peyton needs me to be strong for her. She needs me to be the man who protects her and makes things right, but I don’t feel like him anymore.
“We have to fight for him, Raze. We have to do something.” I pull over and slam my fist into the wheel when I can’t take it a second fuckin’ longer. I scream out my frustration and slam my fist into the wheel five more times, and it does nothing to eliminate the guilt and pain inside me.
“You think I don’t wanna fight, Peyton?! You think I don’t wanna drive to that fuckin’ house he’s in, and snatch him away so we can bring him home? We can’t. We can’t fuckin’ have him, and it’s all my fault!” I scream at her, making her big blue eyes blink in shock, and when I’ve let it all out, I slump back in my seat and look up to the ceiling of the car. “Fuck!” I slam my hand into the wheel again and curse God for giving her something to love, then taking it away because of me.
“This isn’t your fault.” She shakes her head, sniffling as she wipes away her tears.
“Yeah, it fuckin’ is, and I need you to say it.”
“Raze?” She looks back at me like she doesn’t understand.
“Look me in the eye and tell me this is all my fault,” I repeat, needing her to say it out loud.
“I’m not saying something that isn’t true,” she tells me sternly.
“But itistrue, and it’s time you started facing up to the fact that you’d be better off without me.”
“Don’t say that, Raze. You're talking crazy. We’re both mad and upset, let's go home and?—”
“Just say it, Peyton!” I yell at her again. “Just fuckin’ say it.” It feels as if I’m losing my mind.
“Fine!It’s all your fault!” she screams from the top of her lungs. “I wanted to make his life better. I wanted to prove to him that love existed, and now I’ve lost him, and it’s All. Your. Fault!” She gets outta the car and slams the door, starting to walk away from me.
“Peyton, what are you doin’? There's a killer on these streets.” I get out the car and chase after her.
“Yeah, I’d rather take the risk of running into him than listen to your self-pity a second longer.” She points her finger in my face and continues to walk away.
“Peyton!”
“Fuck off, Raze!” she hollers back at me, making it clear she wants to be alone, and forcing me to kerb crawl her all the way back to the fuckin’ club.
“What's got into her?” Sinner asks when Peyton marches through the club straight toward the back door. I’m assuming she doesn’t wanna face anyone and that she’s heading home. I wanna go after her, to hold her and comfort her. I wanna tell her how sorry I am for fuckin’ up her life so bad, but I can’t face seeing her so broken when I feel so crushed myself.
“We lost the kid,” I tell him, looking at the floor and taking a deep breath
“Fuckin’ careless of ya.” He laughs as if all this is some kinda joke, and I grab the irritating shitbag by the lapels of his cut, and slam him against the wall.
“This ain’t a fuckin’ joke, Sinner. For once in your life, can you take something seriousl–”
“Hey, Raze, chill.” I look to my left, surprised to see that it’s Connor fuckin’ Monkhouse who’s stepped in to ease me down. He looks nothing like himself tonight; his shirt is half open, his eyes are bloodshot, and he’s stumbling on his feet.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” I ask him, keeping a firm grip on Sinner and looking our club lawyer up and down.
“Hanging out,” he tells me, with his chest all puffed out and a proud smile on his face. “My buddy, Sin, here, told me it’d be okay.”
“Your buddy?” I look between the two of them, confused; you couldn’t get two people more opposite each other.
“C’mon, Raze, Connor helps us out a lot; he’s practically a member.” Sinner straightens out his cut when I release him, and Connor's face lights up at what he just heard.
“He’s our fuckin’ lawyer; we need him sober,” I point out, looking at the guy who’s usually afraid of his own shadow and shaking my head.
