“You need to let go of the guilt,” Drew whispers and I swallow hard, my hand tightening around her hair as I lower my head, resting my forehead against her head.
After having sex yet again, I rode us to the Dark Angels clubhouse. Everyone welcomed us with open arms. Blade’s mom instantly took my girl aside and introduced her to a few other women before we said our goodnights. Not once did Drew bring up my confession. If anything, she acted like I hadn’t said anything at all.
“I thought you were asleep,” I murmur against her head.
She hums, gently running her finger along her name on my chest. “I can’t sleep without getting this out. I knew you didn’t want to hear it earlier, which is why I let you create a distraction,” she admits, my heart fluttering again. “You need to stop holding onto the guilt, because Bellamy, it was not your fault.” My eyes tear up, and my nose stings as she looks up and cups my cheek and she asks, “How in the hell were you supposed to know such evil existed?”
“Because the Chargers have raped our women, they’ve killed our men.” I try, and she instantly shakes her head.
“But that doesn’t mean you knew evil asthatexisted,” she says fiercely. She reminds me, “She killed your baby out of selfishness. She killed a twelve-year-old out of greed. No one knows that kind of evil exists in the world, especially not in a teenage girl. You were eighteen, trying to do the right thing. You didn’t know she was that cruel. You didn’t know she was going to flip like that. Honestly, Bell, you have punished yourself enough, and I hate that I’m saying this, but you’ve punished your parents enough.”
"Little bird," I say, squeezing my eyes tightly at her truth and she gently presses her lips against mine.
"I’ve seen you ignore your mom’s calls, your sister’s. You’re punishing them, Bellamy, along with yourself. You need to stop because it wasn’t your fault!" she says fiercely.
“I’ve messed up a lot over the years, baby,” I confess and our eyes lock.
Hurt and anger for me shine back, making me fall even more in love with her.
“I know,” she whispers. “And you had every right to—you were hurting. But now, you need to make things right. Don’t push your family away because of your misplaced guilt. It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t know…”
I squeeze my eyes shut again as my phone vibrates on the bedside table, even though it’s one in the morning and I flinch at the noise and movement.
“Answer her, Bellamy, make her night…” Drew whispers, and I squeeze her tighter to me and press my lips against her head before I nod.
She moves off me and I slowly climb out of bed as my phone stops buzzing. I quickly put on my jeans, grab my phone, and go to the door before I look back at Drew. She gives me an encouraging smile, and I half smile back.
As I said, this girl is slowly bringing me back.
I leave the room and walk down the hallway. The prospect behind the bar gives me a head nod while several clubwhores, as they call them here, look over my bare chest with greed and lust, but I ignore them and walk outside before taking a seat on the bench seat, and I twist my phone in my hand a few times.
“It is not your fault….”
My girls' words echo, and I know they’re true, but I’ve fucked up so much over the years, and she’s right, I have unintentionally punished my mom.
Sighing, I bring up the missed call, then press it and put the phone to my ear.
It rings five times, and just when I think it’s about to go to voicemail, my mom's shocked voice echoes in my ear.
“Bellamy?” she answers with a choke, and I smile slightly.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer, and she lets out a sob, and my guilt kicks up a notch. “Mom…” I murmur soothingly, and she hiccups, “I’ve missed you, my boy,” and I flinch, hating myself even more.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper, “I just needed to let loose, I guess, to let my anger out.”
“I know,” she says, “but it wasn’t your fault, Bellamy, you didn’t know.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told,” I mutter as I eye the window where I’m staying, and I admit, “My girl, she helped me today, and I think I might have finally opened my eyes because of her.”
Mom's quiet for a moment before she asks, “You’ve got a girl?” and I hum, not surprised the brothers or Dad haven’t told her.
“I do,” I admit. “I have to tell you, Mom, you’d love her. She’s a ballerina and has been in lots of shows. She still performs, but only to raise money for others. She teaches in her own studio, which she rents and lives above, where I now live. She’s family-oriented. She convinced me to give you a call and explained that even though I’m punishing myself, I’m unintentionally punishing you and Dad. For that, I am so sorry, Mom.”
“I think I like her already,” Mom chokes, and I smile slightly, which slowly fades when she asks, “If you’re living with her, does that mean you’re not coming home?”
“Al, who are you speaking to at one in the morning?” I hear my dad snap, but she doesn’t answer him, instead, she’s waiting for my answer. Knowing Mom, she’s probably put me on speaker.
“I don’t know, Mom,” I admit before I hear Dad suck in a breath.
