“For what?” she asks, sounding broken.
“For giving me a sliver of hope. For loving me unconditionally. For taking a chance on me.”
She sniffles. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Always.”
I hear the door open behind me and I turn slightly on the stair. Brick is standing there in his underwear. “Getting late,” he says. “Time to come inside.”
I nod and hold my finger up asking for another minute. He considers it, then retreats back inside and closes the door.
“I’ve been summoned.”
“Tell him to go…”
“He’s one of the good guys,” I cut her off.
“How can you even say that?” she asks, the sadness in her voice replaced with fire and brimstone. “He’s the reason we’re having this conversation.”
“You expect a brother to betray his patch because he slept with me a few times?”
“Why are you defending him again? Oh my God, Starlet. Are you in love with him?”
Maybe a little. “No.” I swallow my disgust with myself for lying—hoping she can’t hear it in my voice.
“Starlet…”
“I have to go, Juanita. When it’s safe for me to contact you again, I will. I love you.” I disconnect before she has a chance to protest. I did this to myself. I chose to sleep with another biker. I played with fire and dared hope not to get burned. Well, I can feel the heat all around me now, like I’m being burned at the stake.
I stand, taking in lungfulls of fresh air, loving the silence and darkness. I don’t regret taking a chance. Like a short vacation, I tasted happiness—even discovered how passionate I can be. That’s priceless. At least when I’m lying on my back with my eyes closed while Silver is fucking me, I’ll have someone to think about—Brick.
He’ll fill my long nights with something warm and alive. I smile—there’s still hours before daylight, why am I outside wasting time when I should be with him right now? I reach for the door, intent on making love again.
***
Brick
Sitting on thecouch with my head in my hands while Starlet finishes her call with Juanita, my father pops into my thoughts again. It’s like an endless movie playing out. Dad is out for blood this time. I shouldn’t have brought Charlotte home, it’s never safe. She’s hiding behind me, my father pushing his way deeper into my room…
“Don’t do it.” I square my shoulders, ready to protect my girl and myself.
My heart pounds at the angry scowl on his face, the stench of liquor on his breath. My father is stronger than most men, obsessed with working out. It’s the only way he can dominate me, threaten me with physical harm. I’ve stayed vigilant most of my life, learning to read his moods before I speak. There’s only so many bruises a boy can take, only so much blood I’m willing to shed. But it’s not just about me tonight. There’s Charlotte…
“I told you no whores in my house!” He’s less than a foot away from me now.
I’m standing at an angle, my girlfriend clinging to my left arm. “Get dressed, baby,” I call over my shoulder. I don’t want my father to see her half naked.
“Don’t move, Charlotte,” my father counters, “if you do, I’ll break his worthless neck.”
“Austin? Why is he doing this?”
“This is between you and me,” I say, holding my ground. “Let her go home.”
He chuckles. “Not before I get a quick peek at what you like to stick your dick in.”
My father lunges at me, his fist connecting with my face. It doesn’t hurt. I’m numb from the flood of adrenalin, blinded by rage. He wants to gawk at my girl like some kind of pedophile. Charlotte is only sixteen, and I’m seventeen.
I tackle him like a defensive end—straddling his chest and landing punch after punch. Blood sprays across my face as I hear a crunch when I hit his nose. “You’ll never touch me again, never fucking touch her…”
