Ness sighs and reaches to smooth a hand over Molly’s back. “Those are the truest words I’ve heard you say, Fang. As tough as this is, I think things have been happening to you, of late, for the right reasons.”
I sure fucking hope so; otherwise, I get the feeling they have the power to destroy me if my situation doesn’t improve.
Thirty-one years, I’ve avoided close personal relationships with women. I have no fucking doubt in my mind it’s all tied into stored trauma from my parents’ volatile relationship. But my default when faced with a vulnerable emotion is to turn my words into either a joke or a weapon. And this is why.
Because once you peel the mask from my heart, nothing is hiding behind but a frightened little boy.
A boy who wants to be loved.
A boy who doesn’t think he can.
THIRTY-NINE
JENNA
There are fuckall places to hide when you’re on someone else’s home turf. For as much as I’ve explored this property, there must be twice as much land left untouched.
Which is why I found myself turning down the long driveway and not stopping until I reached the colorful garden out front of Vanessa’s cottage.
It looks so beautiful. Such a breath of fresh air amongst a droll and depressing landscape.
It looked like a haven.
I’m not sure what I’m doing here. What the fuck is my plan? Sit here as I did in the field those first days? For how long? Until my stomach rumbles or I succumb to exposure once dusk falls?
“Fucking hopeless.” I plant my ass on the mossy bricks that make up the narrow path to the front porch.
Tall blooms surround me, clinging to the last vestiges of life before even they go dormant for the colder months. I reach for one and pull it toward me, bending its long green stalk. I need to get away from here. We’ve reached a tipping point where I’m no safer with the Kings of Anarchy than I would be crawling home to my father with my tail between my legs.
But I can’t let this go. To dip now would make me a goddamn coward, and if watching my mom battle through her illness instilled anything in me, it was the desire to be as strong as her. As resilient.
As determined.
Her legacy deserves more than a daughter who stirs all the shit off the bottom of the muck pile and then leaves before it can touch her.
I escalated things when I killed Mary-Beth, and now I need to de-escalate them.
But how? The more I try, the more I succeed in losing everyone’s trust.
I’m literally living a life that encapsulates the frugal struggles of quicksand; the more I attempt to get out, the more it sucks me in.
An engine roars from the direction of the clubhouse, and I lift my head in time to see a beaten-up little sedan tear past.Must be Reno.I’d probably smack my foot to the floor to get away too if I had to deal with Fang on the regular.
My shoulders rise with a deep breath, yet I find no relief in it.What to do…I could do exactly as Fang suggested, although he said it as a bluff, and take what I know to the sheriff. Only, wouldn’t that incriminate everyone involved? King of Anarchy and all?
Cops are ruled out then.
I need help, though. I can’t take on an entire MC world as one woman. But then again, I can take on one part of it.
My mind circles back to my father—to getting him here to talk with the Kings.
I’d probably have better luck converting the pope to atheism.
Back to square one, then.Which is where I always find myself; doing a little dance that brings me back to the start, a little more tired than the time before. Mental gymnastics.
Footsteps crunch on the road, yet they’re too light to belong to Fang. I straighten my spine and take another deep breath as Vanessa pushes through the gate.
“You remember what I said about Chaos and his cameras, right?”
