I walk over to Claire, pass her Aurora, and say, “I can’t fucking do this. I’m sorry, Claire. I’m sorry, Mom.”
Then I walk past Val, shove the door open, and run full speed to my truck.
I’mthree beers in before anybody dares to talk to me. Phantom sits down next to me but doesn’t say anything. Music blares from speakers set all over the compound, and since it’s the first night anybody’s really partied in months, the vibe is upbeat and maybe a little too rowdy.
I don’t belong anywhere. Not with my brothers jamming on video-game controllers. Not with my head thrown back in a recliner, some hot, skinny body anchored to my lap. Not here. Not anywhere. I stormed in after leaving Claire’s, jammed my keys in my pocket,and demanded a beer from Stella, who looked like she had a lot of questions. But reading the look on my face, she popped the top off a bottle and left me to my sulking.
Phantom claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Then he walks away into the crowd. That shoulder-clap was an invitation, reassurance, a whole lot all in one movement, but I don’t want it.
I just need not to think and not to feel.
I finish off my third beer, and my eyes sear over the crowd. Everyone is letting loose, having a good time, and just like always, I’m the odd man out. In pain when I should be walking on top of the world. At the height of my career, respected, stable, when what I really am is a fucking fist who rides a bike. I make my money any way I can. My values are in the toilet. Honor is a thing I used to think I knew, but now, I don’t feel as if even my brotherhood can save me.
I don’t know what I was trying to do, saving a broken woman when I can’t even save myself.
I’ve thought about how it happened a thousand ways to Sunday since I stormed out of the condo. And it’s all my own goddamned fault. If I’d never introduced Claire to the diner, if I’d never let the parts of my world cross like this, Claire would never have thought to surprise me with my favorite dinner.
I don’t know how she got Val to drop off the meal, but it was obvious from the look on her face that she had no idea I’d be there. She had no idea I was Savage, which relieves me even more.
But now, even that is ruined. The one good thing I could do to make up the past to my ma is now fucked too.
This is why I fucking hate surprises.
I abandon my empty bottle on the bar and am about to leave when Stella’s soft voice says, “You look like you need more than another drink.”
I shake my head, discouraging any more questions, and push up from the barstool.
“Savage, wait.” She leans over the bar toward me, giving me an eyeful of cleavage.
I look away. It somehow feels disrespectful to Claire to even look. But then I force myself to glance back.
Claire is nothing to me. She’s not mine. I can look at whomever and whatever I want.
I meet Stella’s eyes, and the genuine concern in them makes me regret doing it.
“What?” I grit out, my voice rough and angry. “Just say what you gotta say, Stel.”
She stands upright and crosses her arms over her chest. “I will, then. And if you still want to be a prick to the people who care about you, be my guest.” She leans back on the bar and points a finger in my face. Her fake nail is like a laser pointer aiming for my head. “I don’t know your shit, man, but that girl—that woman and that baby—are special. You saw something in them. That’s why you did what you did and got them out of a bad situation.”
“That’s bullshit,” I tell her. “I didn’t see shit. I did what any human being would do.” I run a handthrough my hair and tug hard on the ends. “And that shit got out of hand.”
“Why?” she demands, her voice harsh in its honesty. “Because you gave up money, your room, your fucking condo for that woman? Why did you do that, Savage? Because she’s some charity case you picked up on the street?” She shakes her head, her stiffly sprayed hair barely moving. “You did what you did because there’s something real there. You care about her, Savage.”
I shake my head. “I don’t.”
She waves a hand at me, dismissing me. “Tell yourself whatever you want. I don’t care. But I also know that you’re a man who has a code. You’re different from the rest of these guys, and no, it’s not because you were in the military. A bunch of these shitheads were.”
She looks at me so hard, I swear she can see through me. I flinch on instinct, hoping she really can’t. I don’t want anyone to see it all.
“Whatever you went through, whatever trauma or guilt or even just bad fucking memories that woman brought up for you, it doesn’t fucking matter, Savage. The past only controls you if you let it. Look at Claire, what she’s been through. In the time she was here, she learned to trust. I’d have thought you’d have learned the same thing.” She reaches across the bar and cups my chin. “We all carry it, Savage. Whatever you think you’re carrying, you’re not the only one. And it doesn’t make you broken. It makes you one of us.”
“Good talk, Stel.” Her words make sense. Everysingle thing coming out of her mouth is real and feels right. It just doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t fix me.
I get up and turn to leave but not before I see her give me the middle finger. “Savage,” she seethes. I can tell she’s actually angry now. “I don’t give a shit about kids, you know that, right?”
I look over my shoulder at her and shrug. I’m ready for this conversation to be over.
“Aurora trusts you. That should tell you more than whatever the voices in your head are saying.” With that, she makes another vulgar gesture at me, but then she looks at me gently, with pity. Which is exactly what I don’t want or need.
