He makes his way to the door, not bothering to answer.
I hate silence more than anything, so I follow, shoving the door hard. “I asked you a fucking question,” I shout after him. “Drifter!”
He slows to a stop then turns to face me. His eyes are burning with anger, his jaw clenched tight. “What, Hell? You’re suddenly interested in discussing your fucking safety?”
At least I have his attention now. “You didn’t even let me explain,” I argue.
He closes the distance between us, his eyes glazed like it’s taking everything to keep his control.
“What is there to explain?” he demands. “You left this club without protection, walked right into a Steel Delinquent, and then you think you can come home and apologise and it’ll all be fine.” He takes a breath, running a hand through his hair. “We aren’t teenagers anymore, Hell. I have a club to run. How the fuck can I keep my ol’ lady safe if she can’t even stick to one simple rule?”
“I just wanted some normal,” I argue.
“At the risk to you and your friends? Well, I hope it was worth it because you ain’t leaving here again. You’re on their fucking radar now.”
I swallow, knowing how irresponsible I’ve been, but I refuse to back down when he’s treating me like a rebellious child. “Whatever, Drifter. You and your precious club always come first, right? Well, fuck you,” I spit angrily.
“This club isourlife, Hell. Me and you. What would I do if those fuckers got their hands on you? You are my everything.”
“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
I’m being unreasonable, I know I am, and if my dad was still here, he would have physically locked me in the basement. But I don’t back down. My pride won’t let me. So, I turn to walk away. This constant fighting is draining me, and I need coffee.
“Hell,” his voice is softer now, like the fights left him too. “I need to tell you something.”
I put my hand up to stop him. “I’m not interested.” And I slam the kitchen door.
“Fucking dick,” I mutter under my breath.
It’s been ten days of Drifter sleeping in his office. We haven’t spoken since that morning after I snuck out.
We’re both stubborn, and I refuse to be treated like a child, just like he refuses to back down.
I look out over the courtyard, my feet tucked under my body as I hug a mug of coffee. The sun is beginning to set when Mumma Bear sits down beside me.
“A penny for your thoughts,” she whispers, and it reminds me of something my mum would have said.
I smile fondly and rest my head against her shoulder. “When did it all get so complicated?” She kisses the top of my head and a sigh escapes her. “It was never supposed to be easy, my darlin’,” she replies, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “You justhave to make the best of the life you’re given. You only have one shot at it.”
I nod and watch as the sun dips below the wall. “I messed up,” I admit, sighing heavily.
“I know you did, hunny.”
I laugh. “Thanks.”
“If your mum was still with us, what would she be saying right now?” I roll my eyes, knowing she can’t see me. “I heard that,” she adds, and I laugh again, lifting myself to sit back up.
She pulls her arm from around me, grabs the fleece blanket off the back of the chair, and throws it over us both.
“She would be on my case,” I reply, placing my cold coffee on the table in front of us. “She would be on Drifter’s side, giving me a hard time.”
Mumma Bear nods. “And . . .”
“She’d tell me to get a fucking grip.” I laugh, recalling how my mum didn’t take any shit from me. She might have let my dad walk all over her, but with me, she wanted to make sure history didn’t repeat itself.
“So, what are you playing at?” she asks, arching a brow.
I pause, thinking over my words before eventually saying, “Mum also let my dad treat her like shit, and that isn’t me. I won’t have someone telling me what I can and can’t do, and Drifter should know that. He’s known me long enough.”
