Irrevocable

by Addison Jane

  I turned to face her, popping a frozen blueberry into my mouth. “Did you just threaten to punch me?” For a moment, I actually forgot about everything else. “You’ve been hanging out at the clubhouse for too long. We don’t all solve our problems with our fists, Rocky Balboa.”

  She cocked her hip against the counter and rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe you need to start because this…” she waved her hand around the complete and utter disaster that was my life right now, “... is not fucking healthy.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Of course, it’s not fucking healthy. Do you know how many pounds of butter I had to buy this morning? I don’t intend on eating it all.”

  She pointed at me and narrowed her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” I hated how well she knew me. I hated that I couldn’t hide from her, especially at a time where I was losing my shit, and the whole reason for this fucking epic breakdown of historic proportions was because of her brother.

  I was a shitty best friend.

  And this was the reason why Rip and I had avoided the shit between us for so long in the first place. Because secrets were fucking shitty things to have burning a hole inside you. Especially when that secret was something you had to keep from the one person who you would usually go to find comfort and the one person who instantly knows when something isn’t right.

  She must have seen something in my face because she reached out and touched my arm, her face softening. “What’s wrong?”

  What was wrong?

  I heaved in a deep breath. One that actually hurt my chest.

  What’s wrong is that I slept with your brother, started to develop feelings for him, and now he hates my guts because he thinks I slept with the police officer who’s blackmailing me into being a snitch and having all the people that you love destroyed.

  Instead of laying that pile of steaming shit on her, I tried to water it down.

  “I just feel responsible for everything that’s happening,” I answered, pulling at the pretty pink polka dot apron I had on, and trying to wipe away some of the sticky mixture on my hands. “I was the one who pissed Caleb off that night at the bar. I should have called for someone, let them deal with it, but no, I had to run my mouth and bring more attention toward the club.”

  I rushed past her grabbing the milk bottle from where she’d placed it on the counter and moving back to my bowl. A splash of this, a cup of that… I just began throwing ingredient after ingredient into the damn bowl.

  “Dakota…”

  “I know I’m being psycho, but it’s how I cope,” I tried to explain as I continued to measure out the ingredients I needed. The faster I moved, and the more I focused on the measurements and quantities, the further I pushed my emotions below the surface and smothered my anxiety.

  “Dakota, just stop,” Meyah demanded, her voice a little stronger than before. “You just put half a cup of freaking salt into the bowl.”

  I looked down at the mess I’d made. “Fuck!” I cursed, slamming my palms down on the counter and hanging my head.

  It hurt.

  More than I wanted anyone to see.

  The guilt stirred deep in my gut.

  Which only reminded me how much I missed Ripley and how bad I’d screwed it all up. Which, in turn, made me just want to bake faster.

  I wasn’t a ‘sit down and talk about my feelings’ kind of girl. I hid them, pushed them to the side, and covered them with other things. While I was just staring at the disaster in front of me shaking my head, Meyah pulled out her cellphone and began to push buttons.

  The nosey and slightly nervous bitch inside me couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “What are you doing?”

  “Calling the pizza place in town and see if I can book a pity party for one.”

  Damn.

  Harsh.

  I almost wanted to hate her right now for knowing me right down to a fucking tee. This is what I did when I started to feel sorry for myself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an isolated incident. Some people drink, others do drugs when they feel like they’re stuck in a hole. Not me, though. Instead, I chose to hide myself away—I bake, I watch reruns of Full House, and I try not to lose my shit—and after a couple of days, I usually feel a little bit better.

  I’d been doing this my whole life. And I thought it was working pretty well. Until recently.

  Meyah had been my best friend for a little over a year. Ever since she practically fell in the door to our shared dorm room in freshman year. We’d both grown a lot since then, but what hadn’t changed was the fact that she was my rock. And also, she didn’t let me get away with anything.

  “And if that doesn’t work,” she added with a smug smile. “I’m gonna call your mom.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the traitor. “What do you want?”

  “I want my friend back.”

  Well, way to really hit me in the feels.

  Bitch.

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” I answered sadly, sticking my lip out dramatically.

  She rushed forward with her arms open. “It’s okay, Dakota,” Meyah whispered as she hugged me tightly. I tried to hold a straight face, but I couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled up. Meyah raised her hand, patting it over my hair like I was a small child. “Shhh, little one. Don’t fight it, just feel the love.”

  The both of us started to laugh, and I managed to finally wiggle my body from her arms. “You are so weird!”

  “I accept that about myself,” she replied with a wide grin. “Now, you need to take a shower and get your shit sorted because we’re going to the clubhouse.” Meyah got up and walked over to the long-forgotten plastic supermarket bag she’d dumped on the floor.

  “You know, you should really take reusable. It’s better for the environment,” I teased.

  She ignored me—she was good at that—as she placed it on the tiny amount of counter space left in the kitchen before looking up at me again. “No more moping, no more baking, no more hiding in this place by yourself for a week.” Damn her for being so freaking awesome. “You can either eat that nasty ass muffin mix. Or we can go and mix some new cocktails for the new bar, eat our weight in chocolate cake…” She pulled an entire cake from inside the bag and my mouth was instantly drooling—she knew the way to my heart. She paused, and I knew it was just for dramatic effect as she reached for the last thing in the bag. Finally, she pulled out three DVDs. “And watch all three Fifty Shades movies.”

  “Are you asking me to get drunk, fat, and horny with you?” I questioned as the tension in my body began to release, my shoulders sagging, and my heart began to stop feeling like it was being strangled.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  That wasn’t even a lie. And honestly, it was about time we did it again.

  “Oh, how well you know me.”

  DAKOTA

  I pulled my car into the clubhouse parking lot feeling a mixture of nerves and happiness swirling around me. Meyah knew how to pull me out of my funk, and I could already find myself beginning to breathe easier and felt as if I could see clearer.

  It didn’t last long though.

  My cell phone buzzed on the passenger’s seat, and I glanced over, thinking it was probably just my mom checking in or Amelia sending some cute photo of Evie. But instead, unknown number showed up with a text message attached. My body started to heat, and I squeezed my eyes closed hoping to force back some of the ill feeling in my stomach before I reached over and picked it up, opening the message.

  UNKNOWN NUMBER: Since you’re at the clubhouse I’ll expect you’re going to have some info for me later. Had dinner with Austin and Amelia last night. She really is beautiful. And Evie too.

  I felt like I was going to be sick.

  My fingers shook as I scrolled down to the delete button and hit it. Not wanting to reread it. Once was enough.

  I tried to fight the urge to run, to put my seat belt back on and tear out of here like a bat out of hell. But obviously, he had someone following me, if he was
n’t doing it himself.

  Or he had someone within the club—that thought alone was fucking terrifying.

  I’d been effectively avoiding the club. Partially because I was embarrassed about what happened—or at least what they thought happened. And partially because my brain told me that if I wasn’t here, I couldn’t give Caleb anything. I should have stuck to that.

  The moment I stepped out of the car, I could already feel my body shaking. My eyes searched for Meyah, but I couldn’t see her. She’d had over an hour’s head start before I managed to get the kitchen looking somewhat normal and the plethora of baking ingredients off my body.

  Meyah knew I would be right behind her, but instead of her stepping outside, I spotted Ham walking out of the workshop end of the clubhouse wiping his hands on a dirty rag. My stomach tightened as he came toward me, and I took a deep breath.

  “She’ll be down soon,” Ham explained as he came over and leaned against the wall beside me. “You look like shit.”

  I pursed my lips wanting to tell him where to go with one of my usual snaps back, but I knew he was completely fucking right. I did look like shit, and no matter how much makeup I’d applied or how I tried to force a fucking smile on my face, the past few days of constant crying and feeling sorry for myself had taken their toll.

  “How much does she know?” I dared to ask as I straightened my shirt and pulled nervously at the hem.

  Maybe this was a bad idea.

  Ham looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Did you fuck him?”

  My heart stopped, and my fight or flight instincts kicked in. I spun on my heel and rushed away from the door and back toward my car.

  Ham was right on my heels though. “Dakota! Fucking stop!”

  I spun around narrowing my eyes and fighting back the tears but trying to keep my voice down just in case there was someone nearby. “I didn’t want this to happen, okay? I’m not a member of this club. Yet, somehow, I’ve suddenly found myself in the middle of some war or vendetta or whatever the fuck it is, and this is not where I want to be, Hamlet.”

  The emotions that I’d been fighting with all morning spilled out everywhere. There were tears, there was snot, there were harsh words, but I couldn’t help it.

  “I didn’t want for Caleb to show up here throwing his weight around. I didn’t want for him to try and hurt me to get to you guys. And I definitely didn’t want Ripley to lose his fucking mind trying to defend my honor and be almost thrown in jail for ten years because of it.”

  There were a couple of club members hanging around outside watching our interaction intently. But it was at the point where I just didn’t give a shit anymore.

  “And you know what,” Ham interjected, stepping in closer to me as I struggled to breathe. “If there were some way that I could change things, so you were nowhere near this whole fucking mess, then I would. But I don’t have a time machine, I can’t change the past, so right now, I need to figure out just what the hell is happening in the present, so I know what I’m dealing with.”

  I could have told him right there and then. I could have said I didn’t fuck Caleb. I could have told him about the deal that Caleb wanted—about how he was coming for the club and how he was going to use me to try and bring them down.

  But Caleb said he would know if I told. And whether that was a bluff or not, it just wasn’t something that I could risk. Ham was the VP, he had a responsibility to take everything to Shotgun, and what they would do with the information, I had no idea. I didn’t know Shotgun well enough to know that he wouldn’t just go in all guns blazing, and I couldn’t risk the people I loved on an unknown.

  “Dakota, I just need to know what happened,” Ham urged, his tone changing now, the sharpness gone.

  I licked my lips, trying to decide what to say, or how to word it. “I did what I had to do,” I whispered, feeling utterly fucking defeated. Caleb was winning, and it actually felt like someone had their foot on my back, and they were slowly pressing harder and harder, and I was struggling to breathe. I looked Ham directly in the eye, something I wouldn’t have been able to do if I was going to lie. And technically I wasn’t. “Please don’t make me relive it. Please don’t ask me to go through it again.”

  We stared at each other in the middle of the clubhouse parking lot.

  Tears running down my cheeks.

  I was broken.

  I was utterly fucking shattered, and I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do to fix it. If I were a guy, I’d say that Caleb had me by the balls because that was exactly what it felt like at that moment. He wanted me to tear apart the club, the people who had protected me, who had stood by me, and had shown me nothing but complete love and acceptance.

  “You really care about Ripley that much?” he asked, the question surprising me.

  The truth? Yeah, I did, and honestly, I felt like that hurt just as bad.

  “What?” I asked. Not because I hadn’t heard him, but because I honestly didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t repeat the question, he just raised his eyebrow and waited for an answer. “I don’t know. Yes. Maybe.” I shook my head, my brain feeling slightly mushy and the straightforward question he was asking sounding extremely complicated.

  How did I feel about Ripley? It wasn’t a simple question. It was far from simple because Ripley was nowhere near simple.

  He was complicated.

  He was broken.

  He was an asshole.

  He drove me fucking crazy.

  But he was also so much fucking more than that, and that was what hurt.

  “I should get out of here,” I croaked, taking a step back and turning away.

  Ham grabbed my arm. “Don’t. Meyah has been worried sick about you, and she skipped in here an hour ago with the biggest smile on her face. Don’t take that from her. You’re not the only one she’s struggling with. She’s not getting much more of a response from your boyfriend.” I turned around to give him my spiel of denial and found him grinning back at me.

  Bastard knew that would get a response. “I hate you.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That’s a strong word coming from a little girl.”

  “Hilarious, lunch meat, just hilarious.”

  “I thought so, Denmark.”

  Meyah had a line of glasses spread across the bar, and I was pretty sure that by the end of this experiment, I was either going to be really drunk, or I was going to be friendless by having to tell her all her signature drinks were fucking horrible.

  “I figured since we were opening the new bar, we should have some drinks that are like… special to the bar,” she rattled on as she pulled every bottle of alcohol I could name from beneath the counter. Ham sat a couple of stools down, looking half amused as hell as his woman talked a hundred miles a minute and half preoccupied with his cellphone. “So that people have to come to us if they want one, and that has that one special ingredient so they can’t remake them at home.”

  I twisted and turned on the barstool unable to sit still. Even though Meyah hadn’t mentioned what had happened, the fact that I’d gone into hiding, or how I looked like shit—unlike her loud-mouthed boyfriend. She knew me too well.

  I raised my eyebrow at her comment. “What kind of special ingredients do you intend on putting in them.”

  Meyah’s eyes lit up. “We can put anything in them. I read about some that have spices like cinnamon and paprika.” That didn’t sound totally awful. “And then I read about this one bar whose secret ingredient was baked crickets.”

  Nope. She’s lost it.

  “Meyah…” I started, but she held up her hand.

  “No, just wait. I’m going to run and get my cell and show you the article,” she insisted, dashing out from the bar and up the stairs within seconds.

  I turned to look at Ham. “Are you listening to your woman? Baked crickets. That’s the person you fell in love with.”

  He just started to laugh and shake his head. “Hey, she’s your bes
t friend. What does that say about you?”

  “That I do a lot of social work and take pity on the weird and un-helpable?”

  His cell started to buzz across the bar, and he picked it up, turning to me for just a second. “Sorry, gotta take this.”

  “Yeah, yeah, boss man. Go. Leave me here to suffer.”

  He laughed and shook his head before he hit the answer button. “Hey, did you get that order?” Ham asked before he climbed down off his barstool and made his way out into the connected garage.

  My heart skipped, and I clutched my cell tightly in my hand. My foot bounced nervously as I debated within myself whether I should go after him and see what kind of information I could find. I knew Caleb wouldn’t wait long.

  He was still involving my brother in his investigations and ploy against the club, he must have been if he was around there having dinner with them. Amelia and Evie were Austin’s entire world. They’d been together since he was eighteen and she was sixteen. What they had was more than special, it was that one-in-ten-million kind of love. If he lost either of those girls, I couldn’t be sure what that would do to him. But I would be scared.

  It made me so angry to think that someone could be that way. That there were people out there, who would hurt a child to get their point across or to force someone into a corner.

  Caleb was a deceptive asshole, and let’s face it, I had no idea whether he was going to do what he said, or whether I really was capable of it. He made it feel like there was no one I could trust and honestly, with the Brothers by Blood, I really didn’t know all of them that well.

  I never wanted to be one of those girls in movies who tried to fix things on their own, and who didn’t ask for help even though things could have been solved with less hurt if they’d just come clean. I never saw myself as that girl.

  Was I about to be that girl?

  I got off the barstool and walked toward the door that Ham had slipped through, trying to act casual, trying to pretend like I was just wandering around.