Going Rogue (The Cursed Ravens MC Series Book 3)

by Chantal Fernando

But this is not what she wanted, and I know that for a fact.

  I don’t want to fight with him.

  I feel badly, like I’ve let her down somehow, but how can I possibly bring this up again?

  “This is bullshit,” Prez mutters after staying quiet during our exchange, resting his hand on Rogue’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, brother.”

  “It is what it is,” Rogue replies, shrugging off his pain. “Thank you for coming by.”

  “Of course,” Prez replies, sadness in his blue eyes. “We’ll come back tonight and see how she’s doing.”

  And how Rogue is doing.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Rogue says to his president, standing up. He cups my cheek on his way out, and I say goodbye to Prez and watch the two of them leave.

  “I don’t know if you can hear me or not, Mrs. K, but you’re going to be missed,” I say, sighing heavily.

  This is all a part of life, I know. The older we get, the older our parents get, and I guess we never really think about that, because we always just assume that they’ll be there for us.

  But that’s not the case.

  And the sad fact is that we’re all eventually going to find that out.

  The hard way.

  31

  When Rogue reenters the room, he doesn’t say anything, just sits down next to his mom, head bowed. The air is thick, and I know I have to say something, but I don’t know what.

  “About before—” I start.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say anything,” he murmurs, still not looking at me.

  I ponder his words but soon realize that’s not what I want at all. This situation isn’t one that is just going to go away by itself. We can’t ignore it. Rogue and I have been dealt a hard hand, especially considering how new our relationship is, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to run away.

  “I meant what I said,” I say, my voice strong and even. “Your mom spoke to me about what she wanted, Rogue, and I think I’m the only one she was so honest with. How can you expect me to sit here and pretend that never happened? This is the exact scenario that she was planning for, and now that it’s happened, it’s really hard for me to stay still and keep quiet. Yes, I know she’s your mom, and I know I’m overstepping here, but I also know she would have wanted me to say something.”

  He scrubs a hand down his tired face. “Do you realize what you’re asking of me? We’re never going to agree on this, Zoe, and you need to let it go. I’m her next of kin, not you, and at the end of the day you have no say in the decision I make.” He pauses and then adds, “The one that I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life.”

  I read between the lines: If I keep interfering, he’s going to blame me. I don’t want that. But it’s also not me to sit here silently when I believe in something.

  “It’s not about what you want, Rogue,” I say softly, glancing down at my hands. “It’s about what she wants.”

  I stand up and leave the room, wanting to give him space to think about everything I’ve said. I don’t go far, leaning against the wall near Mrs. K’s room, and it’s not long before he appears, pulling me into his arms and sighing heavily.

  “I hear what you’re saying, and I know you’re just doing what you think is best for her, but Zoe, I can’t. My mom wasn’t well, and she wasn’t in the best mental state to make this decision. I need you to let this go.”

  I don’t reply, but I close my eyes and breathe in his scent.

  He needs me right now.

  I don’t know how I’m going to stand by idly, though.

  I guess I don’t have much of a choice.

  I make Rogue go and get some dinner while I sit with Mrs. K. I try and keep myself busy, tidying up her room, thinking over everything that has happened. I’m refolding her clothes when I hear a mumbling noise. Closing her cupboard, I rush over to her and lean forward.

  Nothing.

  I take her hand in mine, and sure enough, I feel her give me a small, barely there squeeze.

  “Mrs. Kennedy?” I whisper, not sure if I’m imagining this or not. “Can you hear me?”

  Suddenly her eyes are open, and she’s gasping for breath, the pain in her eyes almost too much to bear.

  “Wait, let me call the doctor,” I tell her, about to move away from the bed when, with a gust of strength, she grabs my arm and shakes her head. She shakes her head over and over. Her nails dig into my arm, and I freeze in my spot, not sure what she wants me to do. “You don’t want me to call the doctor?”

  Another head shake.

  She reaches for the tubes connected to her and starts pulling at them.

  She does have fight in her, but it’s not to live.

  She’s fighting to die.

  I freeze for a brief moment as she struggles. What should I do?

  I picture Rogue.

  I need to save her.

  I start to yell for help. But her heart gives out before anyone arrives, and her hand stills on my arm.

  By the time the doctor arrives, it’s much too late.

  Shaking, I fall back down in my chair and then close my eyes, tearing pouring down.

  And that’s how Rogue finds me, crying over the loss of his mother.

  The one on whom I just froze, the one on whom, if I’d acted sooner, I might have been able to save.

  I call in sick to work the next day. I can’t go back there. I don’t want to walk into that room ever again, and although I try not to replay everything that happened, it’s all I’ve been able to do. I can’t even be there for Rogue because of what I did; the guilt and regret are eating me alive. I’m a terrible human being, and I shouldn’t even be an aged-care worker anymore. Sure, it’s highly likely the doctor wouldn’t have been able to do anything to save Mrs. K, but the fact is that I didn’t give him the chance to try. I didn’t fight to save her by calling for help. The doctor might have been able to stabilize her. I guess now we will never know. And it’s all my fucking fault. Rogue slept over at my house last night, and I think he was in shock; he didn’t say much, he just hugged me tightly and thanked me for being there.

  He thanked me.

  If only he knew.

  I think I’m in shock too, because I feel numb. I’ve never looked into someone’s eyes as she’s died. And this wasn’t just any resident, this was the love of my life’s mother. The most important woman in his life. And I saw the life drain away from her blue eyes. Rogue left early in the morning to make plans for his mom’s funeral, and to call his brothers and other family members to be there. Meanwhile, I’m in bed at noon, still in my pajamas, hiding from my own workplace and my own conscience. I can now understand why Rogue turned to alcohol that night, because suddenly all I want is a drink. I want to cloud my mind, I want to forget.

  I don’t want this.

  But we never get what we want, do we?

  “Is everything okay with you?” Erin asks me at breakfast. It’s been a week since Mrs. K passed away, and if I’ve been acting different, it’s because I feel different.

  I am different.

  I know I’ve kind of been shutting myself down, but it’s almost the only way to live with myself after what happened. I’ve tried to act like everything is okay on the outside, but I know I’ve been failing a little.

  I guess I’m not too good at being fake.

  “You’ve been so quiet, and I don’t know, is everything okay? I mean, besides losing Mrs. Kennedy. Or is it all about that?” Erin asks, studying me. She asked me out for breakfast, just me and her, and I should have known it was a bad idea the second she invited me, but I kind of wanted to get out of the house. It’s my day off, and I don’t like my own company as much as I used to, so I’ve been keeping busy and being more social than I usually am.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s that,” I tell her, looking down at my waffles, which are looking a little unappealing. “I guess it’s just been really hard on Rogue, and I don’t really know how to be there for him.”

  “I think we’
re all feeling that way.” Erin sighs, stirring her cappuccino. “There’s nothing you can say to make it better, and saying sorry doesn’t really cut it, so I know exactly what you mean. I guess you just have to listen and let him show you how he needs you.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right,” I reply, mustering a smile. I decide to try and change the topic away from me and back to her. “So, did you tell your mom about the pregnancy yet?”

  “I did, and she reacted exactly how I thought she would, but now that the lecture is over and nothing is hidden, I actually feel really good. My sister, Eden, is super-excited for me, and I have the MC always at my back, and you know what? Mom will come around, just like Dad did, and it will all be fine. I’m not going to worry about what anyone else is thinking anymore. I’m happy, and Ace is happy, and anyone who isn’t can go and suck a dick.”

  “Very eloquently put,” I reply in a dry tone, but I completely agree with her. “Only you live your life, and I think the people who care about you will be there for you no matter what. What’s that saying? Those who matter don’t care and those who care don’t matter?”

  “Something along those lines,” she agrees, pushing her dark hair back behind her ear. “I need to just worry about the baby now; that’s my focus. I will go back to finish my degree, that’s a definite, but for now I’m just going to try to enjoy the pregnancy.”

  “That’s a good plan,” I say.

  We spend the rest of breakfast chatting, and I make sure to engage with her and stay present.

  I don’t want to lose these amazing people from my life.

  I don’t.

  But whenever I think about Mrs. K, it can get hard to look them in the eye.

  Guilt.

  It’s a killer, I tell you.

  And unless I do something about it, it’s going to destroy me.

  I push around the chili chicken on my plate.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s been going on with you?” Vanessa asks, concern lacing her tone. “Something is upsetting you, and don’t even bother to bullshit me with any lies, because I’ve known you since the day you were born, and I know every single tell you have. Whatever it is, you know you can come to me.”

  I do know that, but this is different. If I admit it out loud, that makes it real. Right now it’s very real in my head, but that’s the only place. Telling Vanessa what happened makes it a problem that I have to deal with instead of simply avoiding, and of course she’s going to advise me to speak to Rogue about what’s bothering me. I know that’s what I have to do.

  But how do you tell the man you love that you watched his mother die, and that she begged you to let her?

  And you did.

  He’s never going to want to have anything to do with me again, let’s be real here, and I don’t even blame him.

  “Just struggling with the whole thing,” I tell her, putting my fork down and bringing my eyes to her, telling her the same thing I told Erin. I don’t really know what else to say or how to explain what’s wrong with me right now. This is my big sister, and I tell her everything. I’ve never kept information from her, she has always been my go-to, but this, I just can’t find the words for.

  “How is Rogue doing?” she asks me, her brow furrowing and lips tightening in concern.

  “It’s hard for him, but he’s dealing with his grief quietly and keeping himself busy. He’s been drinking a little bit more, but his MC family is taking good care of him. We’re all watching him closely and trying to be there for him in any way we can.”

  Rogue is going to be fine; he’s strong and resilient.

  Me, on the other hand?

  I’m not so sure.

  32

  Rogue shows up at my door with flowers.

  For no fucking reason at all.

  I take the red roses and smile. “What are these for?” I ask him, smelling them.

  “Just because, with everything going on, I just want you to know that I fuckin’ love you more than ever,” he says, lowering his head to kiss me. “And thank you for being here for me through all of this when I know I can’t exactly be fun and easy to be around.”

  Oh, God.

  He’s apologizing. To me.

  “Rogue, you don’t need to thank me,” I say, walking with him to my kitchen to put the roses in a vase. “I haven’t even done anything. I’m terrible in situations like these, and I want to be here for you, but I don’t really know how to be honest. I’ve never lost someone close to me before, so I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. I love you too, though, Rogue, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  “And that’s why I’m thanking you,” he says, lifting me by the waist to sit me on the kitchen counter. “I don’t need you to fix anything for me, Zoe. I’m a grown-ass man. Just be here for me like you always are. That’s all I’ll ever want and need.”

  I duck my head, but he lifts it back up by the chin, looking into my eyes. “You’ve been distant, and I’m guessing it’s because of how I’m handling all my shit, but you know what? We’re going to be fine. This is a hard time for me, but it will get better. I’ll adapt to living with the loss, and I’ll return to my old self.”

  “Rogue,” I whisper, shaking my head.

  He needs to stop.

  He’s making it sound like there’s something wrong with him, like he’s explaining his actions, but he doesn’t need to.

  “You don’t need to explain anything, Rogue,” I say to him. “You’re allowed to be angry, hurt, and grieve in your own way. Nobody expects you to act like nothing has happened. I sure as hell don’t. Take your time, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here with you, all right?”

  “I know,” he says, swallowing hard. “I know.”

  He rests his forehead on mine, both of our eyes closed, until he moves to kiss me, then carries me, my legs around his hips, to my bedroom and lays me down on the bed. We haven’t had sex as much as we usually do, and I love that he’s taking the time and making the effort to reconnect with me, mentally, emotionally, and physically. I feel like it should be me making the effort, not him—it’s Rogue who is hurting; except until I get this whole thing off my chest, I’m not going to be able to pretend like everything is okay. I’m just going to have to bite the bullet and tell him the truth. Do the right thing. And if he doesn’t want me anymore, well, I guess I’ll have to live with that. What else can I do? I’m going to sabotage my own relationship by being distant if I don’t own up.

  He starts to undress himself, and then it’s my turn, and I shut down my thoughts, unable to process everything right now. I let myself just enjoy this moment, kissing him when he brings his lips to mine, tasting the man I love, feeling his bare skin pressed against mine. I run my fingers down his smooth back, landing on his ass, giving it a little squeeze. He moves his lips to my neck and teases the sensitive skin there with his tongue, kissing, biting, and sucking, his hands moving to my breasts.

  He moves down my body, and for the next hour I forget everything other than the feel and the taste of him.

  And life is so much sweeter.

  “Rogue, there’s something I need to tell you,” I say to him as we’re lying naked in bed, sated. I know it isn’t the best pillow talk, but I need to get it out. I’m scared—terrified, even—but while I’m many things, a liar isn’t one of them. I pride myself on being an honest person, and I need to tell him what happened that day.

  “What is it?” he asks, pressing his lips to my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

  “There’s something I didn’t tell you, and I don’t even know how to say it now,” I say, sitting up and looking him in the eye. “I’ve felt so guilty, I haven’t been able to sleep properly, and everyone keeps asking me what’s wrong, and I don’t have an answer because I don’t know how to process what happened.”

  At my serious tone, he also sits up and takes my hand. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s about your mom and the day she died,” I say,
swallowing hard, my nerves hitting me all at once, my fingers shaking. “No, it starts before then, actually. But I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to hurt you, and . . .”

  I trail off, not knowing how to explain.

  I have a moment of pure regret for even bringing it up. I know it’s going to change everything, and I don’t want that. I love Rogue, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him, but I guess that’s why I need to tell him. He deserves to know the truth. I wanted to save him from knowing that his mom wished to end her life, but if I want to tell him the truth, I can’t save him from it.

  Fuck it. Honesty is always the best policy.

  “Zoe,” he says, brow furrowing. “What about my mom?”

  “The day she died, she let her wishes be known to me,” I admit, wringing my hands.

  “What?” he asks, frowning. “She came out of the coma? Why didn’t you say anything to me? What did she say? I don’t understand why you didn’t call me.”

  “She . . .” I stop and take a deep breath. “She woke up, and she . . . she didn’t want to wake up. She started pulling at her tubes, and when I told her not to move, that I was going to run and get the doctor, she grabbed my arm and she didn’t want me to go. And I just froze. It was only for a second, but I froze. And by the time I called out for the doctor, she had died.”

  He gets off the bed and starts to pace, probably wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me this straightaway,” he says, stopping in his tracks and rubbing the back of his neck. “What the fuck, Zoe? This is my mom we’re talking about. Why didn’t you say something to me? And what do you mean, she was pulling at her tubes, why would she do that? It makes no sense.”

  Maybe not to him, but it makes perfect sense to me. I don’t know how to tell him that, though.

  “Your mom didn’t want to be . . . She didn’t want to live how she was living,” I tell him, trying to be honest yet gentle. “She knew the dementia was going to take her, and she didn’t want anyone to see her like that. She didn’t want to be on life support.”