by Lara Swann
“Chloe.” He breathes my name, the relief obvious in his voice.
I close my eyes briefly, squeezing them shut as I remind myself I can’t dwell on that - I can’t use the precious time we have here to get lost in all the feelings that have led me so astray.
“Ash.” I say, and I hear the strain in my own voice as I look back at him, trying to summon my earlier determination. “What’s going on? What’s happening? Drugs? I can’t believe—”
“It’s not true.” He says immediately, emphatic. “I promise, Chloe, I haven’t done anything. It’s all a lie - a set up—”
“Why would anyone set you up?” I fire back just as quickly. I want to know what he’s involved with here. I’m done just accepting what he says at face value.
“I…” He hesitates, and it kills me to see it, the fragile hope I still have left wanting so much for him to just say everything right. Do everything right. Like he always has. To not give me any reason to doubt him. “It’s complicated—”
I can feel my gaze harden. “Explain it for me anyway.”
“I…” He takes a deep breath. “There’s a situation at the moment, with some guys I used to know—”
“The Eastern Slayers MC?”
He blinks, hesitating again and glancing around. “Well, yes, and some others. It’s not something I ever should have been a part of—I’m not a part of it—but I got dragged into it anyway. I’m trying to clear it up—I shouldn’t be here, Chloe, I didn’t do what they’re accusing me of—”
“A situation.” I repeat, refusing to be distracted by the talk of innocence right now, as my heart sinks deeper with the vague explanation he’s trying to give me. “A situation with…drugs?”
He winces, looking around again. “Look, it’s not something I can talk about very easily in here. I need to get this sorted first, but I am going to get out of here, Chloe. I promise. I’m going to get out of here, sort this mess and then we can—”
The half-answer tells me far too much.
“You say this is nothing to do with you - but you knew about it, right?” I press, feeling the anger start to rise within me.
“Chloe, I can’t—”
“You kept telling me that things would get sorted - there were times you were spooked, warning me about vague things…that was all because of this, right? And you said nothing to me—nothing at all.” I say, the words getting faster as it all comes out of me. Every feeling of betrayal and hurt, every hope and belief that has been torn away. “You say you aren’t involved—how can I believe any of it? The shop—what happened to it—that was because of this, wasn’t it? You knew that. And the way you’ve been acting recently—I thought I was the problem—”
“I tried to tell you—”
“No.” I say, my tone turning harsh. “You didn’t try to tell me anything, Ash. You could have said something any time - you could have told me about the shop, why that happened - let me know what the danger was, instead of putting it all down to rough streets. I mean, God help me, from what I’ve heard, you were probably the roughest guy on those streets anyway.”
“Chloe—that’s not me—not anymore. None of this is. I’m out of all that—I left the Slayers to run the shop—I gave that shit up because it wasn’t me—”
“The shop they bought, right?”
He stops short, his heated objections coming to an abrupt standstill as he looks at me - the pause there giving me an answer to more than just that question. My heart aches - a visceral, real feeling in the center of my chest - and the last of that fragile, painful hope slips away.
“It’s not quite like that—” He starts, another half answer arriving too late.
It’s too late for that, and it’s too late for everything else. I shake my head.
“Of course not.” I say quietly, surprised at how resigned I feel. Defeated. The part of me that wanted to believe - that hung onto every word he said - now drowning with the strength of the truth that’s staring me in the face.
“Listen, Chloe, I can’t say much in here - I can’t explain properly. But when I get out, I’ll explain, I promise. I’ll tell you everything - answer every question you have, no matter what you want to know—”
“Don’t bother.” I shake my head again, looking at him. Absorbing everything about the man I thought I loved, because despite myself - despite everything - I still want to remember. Even if he was only ever a fantasy. “You’ve just told me everything I need to know. It doesn’t matter if this was all the Slayers, or you, or a joint thing - it doesn’t matter if you didn’t do anything. You knew, Ash. You knew what was going on and you never told me. Not about any of it. How can I trust anything you say after that? I don’t even know who you are.”
“Chloe—”
“Goodbye, Ash.” I say, my voice still quiet, as I slowly replace the phone, his shout of my name on the other side becoming silent as I do. I stand up and there’s a clanking of metal as he jerks in his seat - but I turn away even as the prison guards start approaching from the commotion.
I walk back toward the entrance, not looking back, and one of the men at the doorway looks at me.
“Are you ready to leave? There’s still another five minutes before visiting hours are over.”
I shake my head.
“No. I’m done.” I say softly.
And I am. It breaks every part of me - I feel as fragile as a leaf on the wind right now - but I’m resolved anyway.
I can’t trust him. I don’t know who he is. It was a dream - a fantasy - and now it’s all come crashing down around me.
I clutch my belly as I leave the center, feeling like sinking to the ground and wailing in the street. But I don’t do any of that. I don’t even cry.
I turn to walk slowly to the one place I swore I’d never go back, feeling numb and worn down by everything that’s happened.
My parents were right about him. Dad was right about him.
It kills me to admit it, but they were. Maybe I really am as stupid as he always thought.
I don’t want to, but I take one step after the other, slowly resigning myself to what I’m about to do.
To going back.
No matter what I’ve ever done before - no matter how bad - they’ve always taken me back before. They’ve let me admit my mistakes, and they’ve been there for me.
All I can do is pray that this time, I haven’t gone too far.
There’s nothing else left for me.
After all, what do I know about living by myself? About surviving, in a world like this?
Where I can be lied to and manipulated so very easily? Where I can’t even tell what’s happening in the place I live?
I hate it, to the core of my being, but maybe Dad was right. Maybe I do need him.
Ash has just shown me that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ash
“Chloe!” I shout, trying to stand as I watch her walk away from me.
The guards come and bundle me out of the room and back to my cell, and I don’t try to stop them. I barely even notice, my heart in tatters and everything in me ragged and broken. All I can see is the expression on her face - and then the back of her head as she walked away. Not looking back even once.
They let me go once I’m back in the cell, locking the door, and I turn immediately and slam my palm against the wall as I let out a yell, the force of the impact rocking through me. I do it again, and again, until my hand is throbbing and bruised, but it can’t match the throbbing pain inside me.
Chloe…
That couldn’t have gone any worse. Of course she wanted answers - of course she felt hurt and betrayed and lied to. I mean, I have been lying to her, but…
Oh, god, Chloe. Please…
I groan, pressing my head into the hand still leaning against the wall and shutting my eyes tight. I guess I’d hoped—I don’t know what I’d hoped.
That I’d be able to convince her somehow? That I could explain?
Without actual
ly saying anything?!
God damn it.
I wanted to tell her everything - right there in that moment, I wanted to lay it all out for her, whatever she might think of me as a person afterward I wanted her to know I didn’t do anything like what I’m being accused of. I didn’t traffic and distribute drugs right under her nose - in the place she lived.
But in here? With the guards only moments away, the cameras and security and randoms listening in?
I just couldn’t.
They’ve questioned me a few times, but so far I haven’t told them anything. That’s not hard, because really, I know very little. That’s the whole point of the way Blake and I have been talking about these things - I have no idea what’s going on, what happened when or who was involved. Unfortunately, that also makes me the fucking perfect fall guy for the Slayers, something I’m all too uncomfortably aware of.
Sure, it was the Iron Dogs that got me in here, I’m pretty certain of that - I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got the police in their pocket - but it’s the Slayers who can just step away from it all now. My gut clenches as I wonder how likely that is. A couple of years ago, I would have said they’d look out for their own, but they were changing even before I left - and now I’m not officially theirs…? I don’t know.
There are still things I can say, though. I might not know anything about this job that went sour, but I’ve still got plenty of information I could trade. I know that. I haven’t said anything because I don’t know how this is going to play out yet - and that club loyalty still runs deep, even if I don’t know whether it goes two ways anymore.
But now? With Chloe devastated like that?
I don’t give a fuck about any of it. All that matters is getting out of here - getting back to her, back to my baby and making everything right. Whatever I have to do.
I just need to talk to her properly…in private…to explain…and fucking hope it’s not too late.
Don’t let it be too late, please, damn it, don’t…
I can’t face the idea of losing her altogether. That’s what I was afraid of from the start - why I never said anything -but now I’m cursing every decision I ever made. She’s right - I put her in danger and I never even told her about it. What kind of guy does that make me?
I force myself to stop thinking about it, to stop seeing that distrustful, hurt look on her face, even though it’s fucking hard - and then I finally ask for my phone call.
I’ve been waiting on doing that. If Chloe didn’t turn up to see me today, I was going to call her - even if I might not get through, she might let it go to voice mail or anything else - I had to try. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything else. I had to know how things stand with us.
Of course now that I know the answer to that, I’m not sure I feel any better about it - but it does tell me exactly who I’m going to call.
Blake.
I’m getting out of here. One way or another.
“Ash.” His voice comes through, sounding about as torn up as I feel, even though that seems impossible. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
It doesn’t surprise me that he’s already heard what happened - I’m sure the Slayers will know about this by now.
“Did you know?”
“No—I swear, man, I had no idea. None of us did. Everything I’d heard, I told you the other day, we had no idea it was going to be like this—not with the cops involved—never knew the Dogs were in so deep with them, bro, who the fuck could’ve guessed that?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I didn’t think he knew what was going to happen, but I had to ask anyway.
“You’ve got to fucking get me out of here, Blake, I mean it - this whole mess. All of you.” My voice hardens, and I can feel the ice running through my veins.
I’m not fucking around anymore. I know Blake has been trying to do what he can the last couple of months, but if anything that was against the club’s authority, and that simply isn’t enough anymore. He doesn’t have that kind of position and I can’t have someone supporting me on the sidelines anymore. I need the full weight of the club behind me - and I’ll do whatever I have to to get it.
“We’re working on it. I promise, Ash, the club is going to fix this.”
“I’m not taking the fall for whatever shit the club did.” I say, not hiding the bitterness. “This has already screwed my life up, Blake. I have to get out of here—back to Chloe—I’ve got a baby on the way, I can’t be fucking around in here. She’s—she’s—fuck, Blake, I’ve got to get her back.”
“Shit, Ash.” He says, and I can hear the slow recognition in his voice - the regret that it’s tinged with.
“Yeah. Shit.”
“We’ll get you out of there. There’s no way you’re taking the fall for this - I promise, bro, whatever it takes.”
“Fucking right.” I repeat, but I can’t deny the relief that flashes through me.
At least there’s that. At least this time, there’s no hesitation or doubt about which side he’s coming down on.
“And you can tell Jared that, too. I haven’t said anything - hell, I don’t know much - and I don’t want to. But if I have to, if it’s me or the whole lot of you, I’m getting out of here. If you can’t help me, I’ll cut any deal I have to, to get back to my kid. You tell Jared that.”
There’s a silence on the other end of the line for a long moment and I wonder whether I’ve pissed him off. I’m not sure I really care - I’ll say whatever it takes to get through to them, and if it upsets them along the way…well right now, they fucking deserve it.
“I will.” He says, and his voice is quiet. I don’t pick up on any strain - if anything, it almost sounds like tacit agreement. “We’ll sort it, Ash. I’ll get you out of there myself if I have to - just hold tight.”
“Make it soon.”
“Soon.” He agrees.
I finally grunt an acknowledgment and then hang up, trying to resist the urge to slam the receiver back into its socket. I’ve already been rough enough here for these guys to keep an eye on me. It’s not like I’m going to post bail anyway - not on a drug trafficking charge with connections to a club they want to nail - but it won’t help if I act like a violent criminal.
I don’t feel any better after the call, but by the time I get back to my cell the determination has crystallized in me. I think of Chloe - and my baby - and I know that I’m going to get out of here. If anything, the anger and hurt on her face only spur me on further.
I have to fix this. I have to make it right.
And then I’m burning every connection I have to that damned club.
I haven’t yet decided whether that includes Blake or not. He was my first and best friend - the one guy I could rely on - but I don’t know how true that is anymore. It might depend on just how this goes down.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chloe
I don’t have to tell my parents what happened - they already know.
I’m pretty sure they saw the headlines this morning and put it together. The Baltimore Sun didn’t give a name or a picture, but the description of the arrest of the owner of a motorcycle shop - followed by me turning up on the door - probably makes it obvious.
When I knock, Dad opens the door - and for a long minute, we just look at each other.
“So…you’ve come home.” He says, his voice nondescript and collected as I’m used to.
I nod slowly, and I can’t quite meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry.” I say, in a very quiet voice.
I’m not sure quite what’s burning in my chest - shame, fear, frustration, loss - but it’s hard to speak around.
In the next moment, Mom appears behind him - and then she rushes forward, pulling me into her arms.
“Chloe!” She breathes, and I think she’s crying. “Oh, Chloe…”
That’s all it takes for a sob of my own to escape, and I bury my head into her large chest, letting the warmth and familiar scent of sweet pie engulf me as I w
rap my arms around her.
“I’m sorry.” I say again, my voice a little hoarse as I cling to her.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She stokes my hair, and just like that I feel like a little girl all over again. “I’m sorry too - we both are.”
She glances up at my Dad, but I barely notice as I hug her tight.
“Can I…stay?” I whisper, my heart thumping in my chest. “Can I come back?”
“Of course you can.” She soothes, stroking my hair back from my head. “This is your home - it always will be.”
She clutches me to her and we just stand like that together, for what feels like a long time. I’m starting to wonder about Dad’s silence, a little thread of anxiety slithering through me, but then he steps up to us too and puts his hand on my shoulder - not quite joining the hug, but standing close enough to be pretty much there.
“So long as you agree to listen to what we say a little bit more.” He says, his tone gentle.
Right now, it doesn’t need to be anything else - it’s not like I’m going to object. I’ve been proved just about as wrong as I possibly could be.
I nod. “I will, I promise.”
He smiles at me, and I try to give him a half smile back, but I don’t really feel it. I don’t really feel anything, except some small comfort from being in Mom’s arms again. When I search for some sort of response, some reaction to being accepted back home - anything - all I feel is lost and empty inside.
I go back to living there, with them, and I’m almost surprised that they make it that easy - but then, maybe none of us feel like things being hard right now. Maybe they’ve been hard enough, for too long.
I wonder how much of that is my fault - and Ash’s. Maybe this whole time, they really were just trying to look out for me. I don’t know. I’m not even sure that I can bring myself to care right now.
Over the next few days, we tiptoe around each other a bit - and if Dad makes any comments, I don’t notice them. If I’m honest, I don’t notice much of anything. I do my usual work in the store, and then spend most of the evenings lying on my bed, feeling totally miserable. I’m not sure whether they notice, exactly, but they don’t push me - they seem content to leave me alone.