by Amo Jones
I met Scarlett again, through Hella and the club. The Devil’s Own MC made an alliance with the Sons of Templar MC, and Scarlett is a part of the New Mexico chapter. She was a club girl until she shacked up with one of the brothers in their MC. I can’t remember his name, but I remember he looked like The Rock.
I don’t wipe the tears from my eyes, I let them fall over her finger.
She pulls out one of the bar stools beside me and orders what I’m having then looks back to me. “How?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know and I—” I choke on my words, unable to say that he’s gone. Never coming back. His touch is something I’d never feel, his voice something I’ll never hear and his smell is something I will never smell again.
“Let’s get drunk. Take my mind off all the bullshit that’s been happening on our side. Where’s that young lad that’s always with you?”
I take another shot of whiskey. “Drav? I don’t know. I haven’t been able to see him, or anyone.” I cough, clearing my throat from the lingering burn.
“Drink,” Scarlett says, bringing the glass up to the air. “To the men who fuck us, love us, leave us, and fucking die on us.” It’s completely inappropriate for anyone else to say those words and in fact, if anyone else had been the ones to say them I would have probably punched them square in the jaw, but it was Scarlett. It came with her personality. She would tie me over until Phoebe got here, that’s for sure.
We drank, we got messy, we danced, we took a nap down a grungy old alley, and then we woke up and drank some more. I didn’t go home for three days, she didn’t leave me. Scarlett stayed right by my side throughout. It was sunset of day three that we started walking back toward my apartment with my dirty heels in hand, my feet grubby from the past three days and my face stanching of smoke, alcohol and bad decisions.
I stop, just as we’re about to approach my apartment door, bypassing my bakery. Stupid fucking thing. What’s the point of baking if you have no one to bake for. “I lost my husband,” I whisper, letting my long dirty blonde hair hang down my face. My eyes whip to Scarlett. “I lost my best friend, my soulmate. I lost everything, Scarlett, and I don’t know if I can do this for much longer.”
Scarlett’s hand came out to mine. “Come on, sugar. Let’s get you washed and into your bed.”
After a second, I agreed, allowing her to take me upstairs and into the shower. I cried more once I was under the hot pelting water. Scarlett handed me a bottle of SKYY vodka through the bathroom curtain and I snatched it, sinking into the tub and letting the water wash through me.
I didn’t want to go on. I couldn’t go on. Not without him. I’ve never been suicidal, I’ve never considered myself to have those kinds of thoughts but losing Hella has pushed me damn near the edge.
It’s week four of losing him. Everyone has come to check on me in waves. The guys from the club, the old ladies, and even some girls who are regulars at Eat Me. I eventually get tired of their presence, but the one person who hasn’t left is Phoebe, who is still asleep on my bed.
I turn to face her, tucking my hand under my cheek. We’ve known each other since we were just little kids and having her so close to me during this time has been my magnet to earth. Either that or the small bump that’s growing in her belly.
I reach out and run my hand over it and her eyes slowly peel open. “Hey, beauty.” Hey beauty. No, “you look like shit,” or “your breath stinks.” It’s so unlike Phoebe, but I can see what she’s doing. Everyone is doing it—treading around me carefully, like I’m a ticking time-bomb, one that no one knows the second I’m about to blow.
“Hi.”
She props herself up onto one elbow. “How are you feeling today?”
I take my hand away from her swollen belly and tuck it back under my pillow. “Not sure. I think I don’t feel anything.”
Her throat bobs, the sunlight from the morning breaking through my rundown blinds. It’s a huge step down to what Phoebe is used to sleeping in, that’s for sure. What with her hotshot rock star husband and all.
“Well, I have a plan. You know how when we were kids and we used to go cliff jumping?”
I give her a judgmental look, rolling my eyes. “I don’t know if you know this, but you have a growing human in your belly and I don’t think you can do that anymore…”
She whacks me with the back of her hand, tucking her short blonde hair behind her ear. “You can. It always gave you such a rush, and I don’t know, boo. I feel like after you’ve lost someone close, you need to do the things that make you happy.”
She has a point.
“But I don’t know if I want to experience happiness without him.”
She sighs, swinging her legs off the bed and clipping her hair up. “It feels like that right now, but one day at a time, okay? And I’ll be here for it all. Also, I think Ryker wants to see you, and you know how persistent he is…”
I chuckle. “Cliff diving with Ryker Oakley? Okay. Count me in.”
Melissa
Cliff diving with old friends was definitely on the top of my list as far as mourning goes, but it’s still not enough to cover the wounds that bare through my soul. If anything, they weep more now from seeing how much in love everyone is now. I probably might need new friends.
“Melissa?” There’s a knock on the door. I think. I’m cradled in the corner of the sitting room. Our sitting room. Our house. Rocking back and forth as images zap through my brain. True, coming back to our home probably wasn’t a good idea. His scent still penetrates the particles of air that floats around, and every single inch of this house is embedded with a memory of him and me, but it’s been six weeks. Six weeks and things are still not good. I don’t think they’ve gotten better, but they haven’t gotten worse.
I think.
I take a long swig of Proper Twelve Whiskey, saluting the air. “Cheers, Notorious.” Hella was a huge Connor McGregor fan, he even had the walk down.
I scratch my chest in an attempt to soothe the ache just thinking of him sets off inside of me. Sweat trickles down my face as the tears pour through—again. God, all I fucking do is cry.
I shake my head, watching as the shadows from the trees from outside the glass windows of the sitting room pour over the light, casting shadows on the floor. “Leave me alone.”
“Melissa, you need to come with me now.”
My head moves, my eyes coming to hers. She broke in? Am I that drunk that I didn’t hear her break in? Can being drunk impair your hearing? I should google that.
I can barely make out her small features through the fog in my brain. “Why.”
“Because, you just. Please come. I don’t want to say anything just in case.”
I stand, swiping my bare legs. I’m in my Harley tee and short cut-offs. My hair hasn’t been brushed and my face is so swollen from the unlimited number of tears that have been spilled.
I follow her out of the house and into her car. She drives us back toward the clubhouse, and with every mile driven, I feel my heart slam against my chest. Everything is a memory of him. My existence is a memory of him, and if this is how it’s going to be, then I don’t want to exist. Closing my eyes, I think of what it would be to make the decision to stop walking this earth without him. I’d be lying if I said that this is the first time I’ve thought about it, because I think about it. A lot.
I take the thick robe and dip my head into the loop. Pulling it tightly, I inhale a deep breath. My world is lost. I step off the chair… I wish I could ease the pain that way. God, I wish I could, but it comes down to the fact that I couldn’t do that to Millie. She’s lost everyone, and yeah, she may have Raze and Miles and their “family,” but I still couldn’t leave her. Suicide takes away the pain of the sufferer by passing it on to the loved ones they leave behind.
Millie stops outside the clubhouse and once the dust settles from beneath her wheels, I can see the large crowd that’s standing outside. More bikes than usual are lined up and
behind them—I suck in a breath. “Who brought his car here?”
The group of bikers slowly split, revealing—I gasp, my eyebrows pulling together. “He’s alive?” I ask Millie, cautiously.
She smiles at me. “Yes, he is.”
Relief floods through me, but that’s short-lived when fury pushes through my veins. My jaw tightens. A sudden rush of rage washes over me, and then I see the girl. She has long red hair, pale skin, and sharp features. Not only that, but she has a long tight body and the way she’s looking at Hella stirs something feral inside of me. I should be jumping out of this car and rushing into his arms, but the fact is is that he left me.
“Take me home.”
“Melissa—”
“—Millie!” I snap, turning to face her. “He ruined my life, not once, but now twice. The fact that he’s back does not erase the fact that he left me. Take. Me. Home.”
“Okay!” Millie yells, putting the car in reverse. “But just so you know, that girl might—”
“I don’t care. That’s not why I’m mad. I’m mad because he left, and then I thought he was dead, and now this. I can’t deal. Take me home. I’m glad he’s alive, but fuck him.”
Millie looks toward the crowd again one last time before putting it into drive.
Hella
“So why did she use you?” Beast asks, glaring at me from the head of the table. With good reason.
“Because she wanted me to command her new soldiers and she wanted Red. She needed her, but she knew that she couldn’t have her unless she had me, and there was no having me without her. She found my weakness, one that wasn’t Melissa and that could benefit her.”
“Speaking of…” Racer mutters around the smoke hanging from his mouth. “You gon’ make up to her or what? She’s been through some shit since you left, dawg…”
I rub my hand over my face. “I’ll get her back.”
“—and Miles?” Beast asks.
I clench my jaw. “Miles is fine. I only saw him the once.”
Racer shakes his head, leaning forward on his arms. “Bro, Raze is going to pack the shit if we don’t tell him an update on Miles.”
My eyes go to Racer. “Raze already knows. He knows everything that is going on with Miles and Taylor. Taylor is out of bounds for everyone except Miles. Not even I can kill that bitch.”
There’s a round of chuckles that go around the table before a loud knock sounds from the door.
“What!” Beast calls out.
Meadow steps inside, her eyes coming to me. “You should probably go and see Melissa.”
It’s not that I don’t want to see her, it’s that I don’t know what to say when I do. Then there’s the fact that she’s probably been with other people since I’ve been gone, out of vengeance, and honestly, I’m not feeling very fucking stable right now.
“Not yet,” I answer, turning back around to face my brothers.
“Hella,” she whispers softly. “She is so pissed and we’re a little scared that she’s going to finally do something stupid, and—”
“—Bro,” I say to Beast.
Beast watches me carefully, slowly nodding his head. “Leave it alone, baby. I’ll be out in a second.”
Melissa
After locking up the bakery, I toss my handbag over my arm and make my way around the front and toward the door that leads up to my apartment. It’s been three days since Hella came back and I’ve not heard anything. I’m not someone who chases people—ever—especially if I feel like I’m not needed. The fact that he’s my husband won’t change that either. I’m still mad, upset, and confused. I’m not ready to forgive yet and in a way that frightens me. I’ve been upset with Hella before, but this feels so much deeper than that. It’s the feeling of betrayal that takes hold of my gut and squeezes until I can barely handle the pain.
“Melissa…” I stop, my hand hovering above the door handle as I slam my mouth closed, ignoring the breeze that lifts my hair up from the nape of my neck. It’s the eve of Christmas Eve. I shouldn’t be bleeding my problems out into what is supposed to be the most joyful time of year, but fuck my life because I could recognize that voice anywhere. “Don’t fucking do it, baby. Don’t ignore me.”
My eyes close and I exhale, trying to collect my thoughts. I’m strong. I don’t need this, and I can’t be the girl he comes back to after he has done me so wrong.
Turning slowly, my eyes meet the shadow that’s lurking underneath the bright shop signs. There he is, in a dark hoodie and jeans with his patch on over top. I can make out the sharp cut of his jawline and his swollen lips, but that’s all the lighting will allow me to see.
“What, Hella? What do you want?”
He steps forward, but I take one back, my hand flying out to the handle. “Don’t!”
He stops. “Are you going to let me explain?”
I twist the handle. “You had your chance to explain and you didn’t. You can’t do that now.” I dip inside and slam the door closed behind me. Locking it quickly, I take a few seconds to collect myself before climbing the stairs that lead up into my apartment.
I can’t do this. My head is so fucked up from everything, I don’t know which is right and which is left. I don’t trust people in general and Hella knew that. He knew that by him leaving it was going to jeopardize my trust, but he did it anyway. We were supposed to be a team. He was supposed to come to me before he did anything. How was I supposed to just drop the wall that he rebuilt in the first place, as soon as he got home. I can’t. I won’t.
“Hey, sexy!” Drav comes slurring into the kitchen holding a bottle of wine.
“I’m not really in the mood, D. I might just go to bed.”
“Oh no, but I think there’s someone here that you might want to see…” I follow him into the living room, pulling my scarf away from my neck. I stop in my tracks when I see Phoebe and her brother Blake sitting on the sofa. Blake has one foot perched against the coffee table and one arm slung over the back of the sofa.
“Hey, trouble, what you are getting yourself into now?”
“Hey!” I narrow my eyes on Phoebe, who throws her hands up in defense.
“This was not my idea, and als—”
A loud whistle sounds out from behind me and I turn to face it. I freeze when I see who it is. “Zane? Ade?” I look back at Phoebe, narrowing my eyes. “Please tell me why the fuck the Sinful Souls MC is sitting in my house.”
“Naawww, I missed you too, princess.” Ade winks at me, moving toward my couch—that looks very fucking small with these guys—and flopping down beside Blake.
Phoebe stands. “As I was saying, this was not my idea, but The Devil’s Own invited them up to—to—” Phoebe pauses, her hands going to her hips. “What the fuck are you looking at?” It took me a second to realize she’s saying that to me. Oh, here’s my best friend. She’s back.
“No one.”
“You’re looking at Ade!”
“Oh my fucking god.” I shake my head, sinking down onto the sofa. Drav leans against the armrest, popping peanuts into his mouth. “You know, I can’t believe you still think to this day that Ade and I have—”
“—because we have…” Ade laughs, his annoyingly smug and pretty face is looking rather punchable right now.
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Where the fuck is your woman? And yours, and yours!” I further point to Blake and Zane.
They all shrug. “Back in Westbeach.”
“Don’t change the subject!” Phoebe screeches.
“The subject is old. As in, it happened when we were at school. I’m over this conversation, so let’s get back to why everyone is here.”
Phoebe rubs her belly, relaxing back into the sofa beside Ade. “I’m sorry, I think pregnancy is turning me into a crazy person.”
“Poor Ryder,” I groan.
“They have a meeting with the Devils on Christmas Eve, so we’ve decided to have a hog roast.”
Great. “That’s nice, but I will not be there, so
carry on.”
“Why?” Blake asks, his blue eyes coming to mine. His blond hair is much longer these days, it’s a good look for him.
“Because he lied to me. Because he left me. Because he faked his own stupid death and now I want to give him his real one.”
Blake chuckles, shaking his head. “Man, he would have done what he had to do. Do you really think that man is someone who marries a chick and then just decides, huh, I don’t like this bitch anymore…”
“I can’t tell if you’re seriously asking me that or….”
Ade puts a smoke into his mouth. “The answer is no. Can you see any of us doing that to our women?”
“You guys are different to these boys—no offense. They’re a little more… deranged and honestly, you guys know my insecurities and he fucked it.”
“Was that his bike I heard just before?” Ade blows out his smoke, ignoring what I had just said.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know about you, but that’s the moves from a man who is trying to make it right. Don’t ya think?”
I sit there for a second, brewing over Ade’s words. Then it dawns on me and I laugh, shaking my head. “Ade, I am not taking advice from the biggest manwhore to hit US soil since, I don’t know—”
“—Your husband?” he adds, a cocky grin on his face.
I’m going to punch him. Right in the dick, and that would hurt if he still has the thing pierced. “You’re such a c—”
“—Okay! Phoebe says, standing. “You guys can move along. We will see you tomorrow night.”
“She will see you…”
“We,” Phoebe snaps, shooting daggers at me.
The guys are shuffling out when Ade’s big body brushes against me. He leans down and whispers in my ear. “I wouldn’t fuck with that, and if it gets angry, just throw chocolate at it.”
“Ade!” she screams, throwing a pillow at him. He dodges, laughing and shuts the door behind himself. I swear we can still hear their roar of laughter seconds later.