“Who says?” I snapped.
“Will.” His voice broke and my heart did, too. “Please.” He reached for me but stopped before he could grab my hand. Everything in me wanted to touch him and apologize, beg him to make all the hurt go away, but I couldn’t drag him down any further. He’d already seen some bad shit. I didn’t want him to go through more.
I stood shakily, and he watched me, the emotional pain burning in his gray eyes.
“Don’t go.” The PD I knew wouldn’t have asked so softly. He would’ve dragged my ass down and made sure I couldn’t. He was calm and dominant and authoritative, and he took control of situations. This man was heading down the road of shattering, and I wasn’t going to send him on the collision course.
I gripped his shoulder, and even though I didn’t have a lot of strength right now, I squeezed it. I swooped down to touch my forehead to his, and he screwed his eyes shut. “Sorry. Thanks for all you’ve done.”
Forcing my feet to move and leave the house was one of the biggest challenges I’d ever faced, and I hadn’t even stopped for a duffel bag of clothes or essentials like my toothbrush. I hustled to my Harley and started her up. Instead of appreciating the vibration or roar of her engine, I backed her out of the garage immediately and hit the throttle, soaring away from my home.
I hadn’t even taken my helmet, but at this point I was fucked. Why fight it? Maybe death came with perks. I certainly wouldn’t be a biker with brothers who didn’t trust him to have their back.
The wind in my hair sent a soothing awareness through me that settled in my chest like a Band-Aid over a wound. Momentarily, I felt whole, the biker I’d always been. Out here it was me and the road, me and the bike, and me and nature. There weren’t any uncontrollable emotions, the sense of loss, or the sad Bambi eyes from everyone else while they treated me like I was made of glass.
I was free.
Before I knew it, I arrived to the clubhouse. The party was still raging, which wasn’t surprising. Our brothers had a blast until the sun came up and the roosters came out to crow. I’d never been one to stick around for long. PD and I always packed in our shit early and went home, had some beers in private, and threw verbal shit at each other.
How could I miss someone who was right beside me?
Maybe if I created distance between us, PD would come back to himself. I could only fucking hope.
I pulled my bike to a stop near Undertaker’s and glanced toward the metal shed. Would the Demon still be alive? Doubt it. If what PD said was true, Undertaker would be done with him. Or maybe PD finished him off for good.
Regret crawled under my skin as I slid off the Harley and stormed through the door to the clubhouse. The barroom was still packed with bodies, and Jester had poor Bliss over the pool table, fucking into him so hard the entire table shook. Balls rolled on the blue velvet with every hard thrust from Jester, and despite the room being full of other people, Bliss’s groans and whimpers were loud.
I imagined being in his place, with PD behind me. This time the pain came from my heart and there wasn’t any painkiller in the world that could heal it. I rubbed my chest right as King looked over from where he was sitting on one of the leather couches with Dallas. He shot to his feet and ate up the distance between us with massive steps until he was in front of me.
“What are you doing here? You should be at home resting.”
I swallowed and glanced at him, taking in the gray at his temples. He’d gotten timeworn as the years passed and the concern lines on his cheeks dug deeper into his face than they used to. Did Dallas know King’s drinking had become worse? It wasn’t any of my business.
“You have a room here to spare?” I glanced around, not quite sure what I was looking for.
King frowned. “What happened between you and PD?”
“Does the pres get involved in personal bullshit now?” It took me a moment to realize the words had come from me. Fuck. I needed some control over myself. Yet, I didn’t apologize. He’d allowed someone else to kill the Demon I had the right to.
King’s expression hardened, but then it softened again because the bastard feltsorryfor me. He could shove his sympathy up his ass.
“Yeah, sure. We got a room upstairs free. You want a hand with anything?” He peeked behind me, obviously searching for a bag.
I shrugged. “Nah. I’m fine.”
I left the conversation at that, even though I wanted to demand answers from him. Spinning on my heel, I left him behind. I headed upstairs to the only open bedroom door. It used to belong to Tinker. I had a brief surge of grief but ignored it. Once I was inside, I stopped to curl my mouth in disgust as I glanced around. Posters of naked women were so plentiful they might as well be wallpaper, and while it’d clearly been cleaned, everything still smelled like old socks and sex. I had no idea who’d been in here last.
“Fuck.” I rubbed my palm over my face and closed the door behind me. Moving stiffly, I walked to the bed and fell onto my back. The ceiling was marked with years of wear and tear. Time slipped away and my heart throbbed with pain.
Home had never really been a place. We were bikers, we lived on the road. To me, home was a person, and for most of my adult life, that meant PD. We’d been through thick and thin together and fought unimaginable battles. He’d been at my side the entire time and I’d had his back. But this changed things. If I wantedto take care of him this time, I needed to push him away. He deserved to live his life freely.
Where did that leave me?
The Kings didn’t want me around. I wasn’t Rook. I was Will fucking Gardner. A nobody.
I shivered as a cold sweat broke out on my body, and I cursed myself for forgetting my pain meds. While I’d only just taken some, by the time morning came around, I’d need more.
This night was going to be hell on wheels.
