“Priest got some information that led him to talk to Stacey. Who it came from isn’t important, but what does matter is that she sang like a fucking bird when he confronted her. Not that it was ever a question whether or not she’d come clean, because let’s face it, everyone talks when they’re faced with a man like him. She confirmed she drugged my beer, made it look like we’d slept together, and then when she turned up pregnant she pinned that shit on me. I’ve got no clue why other than she’d apparently had a thing for me for years. She and Dagger had been going at it for months, obviously one of those times he fucked up and didn’t wrap his shit, enter Tucker. What I don’t get is why everyone was so happy to accept the baby was mine? But that’s my question to have answered when the time’s right, all that matters now is that I didn’t sleep with her, and Tucker isn’t mine.”
“Why the hell would she say it was you though? I don’t understand what she thought she could get out of you that a single man with plenty of disposable cash, and a good job couldn’t give her,” she snaps. It’s a good fucking question, one I’ve only got a sub-par answer to.
Shrugging I reply,
“Priest puts it down to her having a thing for me. As far as he can figure, it was her only way of tying herself to me permanently, or that’s what she thought. I don’t know if there’s more to it than that, babe. Your guess would be as good as mine.”
Faster than I can stop her, Tilly’s got her car keys in her hand, her purse slung over her shoulder, and is out the door slamming shut behind her. It takes me a second to realize she’s actually gone before I haul ass, heading out after her. There’s only one place she’d be heading, and I can only hope I’m there in time for the show.
Pulling into the lot, gravel flying everywhere, I dismount my bike heading straight for the front doors. What I find when I get in there can only be best described as a scene from a bad soap opera. A violent one, but a soap opera nonetheless. Tilly has Stacey by the hair, her head tilted to the side slightly, and she’s screaming words at Stacey that I can’t make out from this far away. Not one of the assholes standing around watching are doing a fucking thing to help the woman that will no doubt be bald soon if the grip Tilly’s got on her hair is anything to go by. I wouldn’t either, but that’s neither here nor there. The assholes are laughing their asses off though, so I suppose I can be glad I’ve come in at the start rather than the end, I’d hate to have missed Tilly in all her glorious fury. This ought to be entertaining, I muse to myself.
“Are you fucking insane? You stupid bitch,” Tilly screeches, punctuating her words by a good, hard tug on Stacey’s hair.
“I’m not the one who’s insane you crazy bitch. What is your fucking problem? Just because you can’t keep your man satisfied at home doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. If you’d have done your job properly he wouldn’t have been in my bed to begin with.”
Oh shit! Stacey knows she’s pushing my wife’s buttons, and doing a fucking good job of it based on Tilly’s narrowed eyes, lips that are pinched tightly together, and the anger emanating from every pore.
Tilly’s arm rears back as she lets go of Stacey’s hair only moments before her closed fist ploughs straight into the other woman’s nose with a sickening crack. Without a shadow of a doubt Stacey’s nose is broken. I’ve been the one doing the breaking before, and I know that sound almost as well as the sounds of my babies cries. Stacey’s wail has me torn. I don’t know whether to cheer or check if she’s alright. That was a damn good punch Tilly threw, and albeit I could care less about Stacey’s well-being, I know for a fact that would’ve hurt like hell.
Leaning down over Stacey’s body which is shaking with what I assume are sobs, Tilly speaks loud enough for everyone to hear. Effectively she makes a situation that was until now private, public knowledge, but after what she’s been put through I won’t argue her need to clear this shit up in front of everyone. They’re our family, and it was only a matter of time before they found out anyway.
“That’s how you’re going to play it is it? Denial doesn’t look good on you, Stacey. But I will say, it looks a damn sight better than the color whore you wear so well. Let me avail you of a few things I do know. You know, just in case you thought I was some insipid bitch that was going to ignore the shit you’ve pulled. I, unlike you, do not need to drug a man to make it look like he’s slept with me. I, unlike you, do not need to use a pregnancy to trap a man into having a relationship with me. And unlike you, I do not need to open my legs to half the population of Blackwater to make myself feel wanted.”
As Stacey tries to push up off the floor, but Tilly easily pushes her back down with a hand flat on her chest.
“We’re not done, not even close. You do not move until I let you,” she says on a near growl. “What you did doesn’t make me angry, I’m far passed angry. What you did disgusts me. Not only did you name a man the father of your child that has never touched you, you took the opportunity to be a father from another. No woman who’s a real woman does something like that regardless of how in love with the man she believes she is. Worse still, you dragged my babies into your mess. You put my family at risk, and you did it with absolutely no conscience as to the havoc you were creating. I only have one question for you, one I expect an honest answer to. Were you going to let this go as far as our divorce being finalized?”
Tilly is crouched down beside the prone woman staring at her intently, waiting to hear if she’s going to show even the smallest bit of remorse. Stacey, finally managing to rise from her back and up on to her ass, laser focuses her eyes on my wife with a bitter, resentful look of disdain marring her features. The only thing I can think is, she better not lay a hand on my woman. Because if she does, my promise never to touch a woman in anger or without her permission is about to go out the fucking window.
When Stacey does answer, she only gets one word out before she’s knocked back down, out for the count.
“Yes.”
Standing up, Tilly brushes her hands off on the legs of her sweats and makes her way over to the bar. Everyone in the clubhouse is still watching her every move as she approaches the prospect working the bar tonight asking,
“Can I have a bag of ice for my hand please?” Nodding at her rapidly he doesn’t say a word, but he is back with a bag full of ice and a small towel in less than a minute flat.
I know she noticed me come in so when she calls my name it doesn’t surprise me. What does shock the shit out of me is when she asks,
“Can you drive me to the hospital please? I think I broke my hand.”
That’s when the entire room breaks out in hysterical fits of laughter, which isn’t surprising. I’m actually proud of them being able to hold it in this long. Cradling her poor abused hand in mine, I kiss her temple pulling her tight into my side without dislodging her from her seat.
“Nice right hook, baby. Next time don’t tuck your thumb though. It won’t hurt as much if you don’t, and you probably would have come out of it with only a bruise for your trouble but no broken bones.”
Giggling into my chest, Tilly shifts so she’s now pressed the length of my side allowing me to take the first real, deep breath I’ve taken in years. Having her here in my arms, I can honestly say there’s nothing else, nothing more I want than this right here. A gorgeous, loving, smart, caring wife, three beautiful daughters, a home, my club, my brothers and my bike. My world is now complete in a way it hadn’t been before. All our secrets are out in the open. There’s no more hiding anything from each other. And hopefully after I get my woman’s hand seen to we’ll be able to put this divorce bullshit where it belongs. In the past.
One thing I’ve learned from being part of Devil’s Spawn though, is that life is never that easy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tallulah
“Women are like volcanoes. Both stay calm
for extended periods of time before exploding and killing everything
in their path. Then, they’re calm again.”
- Rotten eCard
A week later and I’m still struggling to comprehend everything that’s happened. Thankfully the little issue regarding whether I broke my hand or not was cleared up quickly with a trip to the emergency room and an x-ray. I’m pleased to report that although Stacey’s head is thick, it only caused a deep bone bruise but no breaks or fractures. It still hurts like a bitch, but the bruising is starting to fade and I’m getting mobility back in it, which is a plus.
What I am having trouble processing is that another card carrying member of womankind would do something as despicable as what Stacey tried to do, and almost pulled off mind you. But I suppose that only goes to show how many women I actually know. Apparently behavior like hers isn’t as uncommon as I’d thought according to Ade who helpfully filled me in on the species of women that pray on married men. Disgusting. The fact that there are more out there like her is truly frightening. If making a marriage work wasn’t hard enough, now we’ve got to contend with nasty pieces of shit like her too. I am totally agreeing with the statement, what is the world coming to right now if this is the sort of thing humankind are capable of.
I’ve spent the last week arguing with Tobias and ignoring my parents’ constant pleas for me to talk to them, which has now escalated past boiling point to full-blown meltdown as of half an hour ago. I am sick of being treated like a fragile china doll. I won’t break. I won’t shatter. And I have nothing to say. I wish they’d just accept that and leave me the hell alone. To be perfectly honest I don’t want to explain it all over again. I’m sure my Dad has filled my Mom in on what he saw and Tobias told him, so why rehash it. Also, I’m pretty sure Priss knows by now too. If her barrage of increasingly demanding text messages is anything to go by Dad definitely filled her in, probably as soon as I left.
What finally tipped me over the edge was Tobias refusing to give me a minute alone to collect my thoughts. He has been up my ass since he brought me home from Dad’s house a week ago, and I’m sick and tired of it. The funny thing is, he never paid this close attention to how I was feeling before, so for all of his tenderness this just feels a little contrite to me.
I understand he’s worried I’ll retreat into myself and in the beginning I was too, but there’s no fear of that happening now. I’ve made it through the hardest part, which was telling him and Dad. Now I just need some time to sort through it all. Hence me locking myself in our bedroom and ignoring him pounding at the door to let him in. Yeah, buddy, that’s not going to happen.
“Come on, Tilly. Open the door and let me in, babe.” If I didn’t know him better I’d say there is a distinctively petulant tone to his voice, and I’m betting he’s pulling off the best alpha male pout he can right about now.
Ignoring him, I go back to painting my toe nails. Considering how long it’s been, and it’s been ages, I think it’s high time I scheduled a pedicure with the girls sometime next week. Actually, it’s been so long I can’t even remember the last time we had a girls’ day out. They didn’t happen often, but we tried to get everyone together at least once every couple of months to catch up and revel in our child free status for an hour or so.
Footsteps on the stairs followed by hushed voices in the hall have me rolling my eyes. But just as I’m starting to think they’ll give up and go away and my third worst nightmare rears its head. My first you already know. The second would be my Dad. The third however, would be my very angry, very pushy, and altogether too nosy big sister.
“Open this fucking door right now, or I’m getting Tank to kick it in. He’s got to be useful for something other than knocking me up, so I won’t hesitate in using his alternate skillset if you don’t hurry the hell up.”
Pshh, does she really think that’s going to work? If she does she’s going to be in for a rude shock, because they can all fuck off for all I care. Worst case scenario Tank does actually kick the door in. All that will succeed in doing is pissing Tobias off because he’ll be the one having to fix it. So, have at it I say.
Focusing on painting inside the lines, which I royally suck at, I go back to what I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted. More whispers and a few minutes go by before I hear larger feet hitting the top steps making their way closer.
“Tilly? You in there, babe? Come open the door would you? They only wanna know you’re alright, and frankly, I’m fucking sick of hearing these two whine and bitch all day so can you open up? Please.”
Seriously, Glock! They called Glock over here. Albeit he was my best friend for years, we started growing apart right around the time he so callously tossed Lexi aside, so why they thought he’d be of use is beyond me. I thought I knew him but it became increasingly obvious over time that I didn’t, or not as well as I thought I had.
The Glock I knew loved Lexi to the ends of the Earth and would never have hurt her the way he did. The Glock I was introduced to during the few months they were barely acknowledging each other was so cold and distant it was hard to envision him ever being the funny, carefree man we all knew and loved. But as things tend to go with these guys, he pulled his head out of his ass, begged for forgiveness, (he won’t admit that so don’t bother asking him if he did), and they moved in together not long after.
I had trouble forgiving him as easily as Lexi, and I know it wasn’t me he did it to and all, but there was something about how quickly he was willing to give up on what they had that unsettled me to my very core. It ate away at me for weeks before I approached Lexi about it. My concern was if he was able to do it once, he’d easily be able to do it again. The last thing Lexi needed was to have her heart broken the same way I had, and being her friend it worried me to no end that’s exactly what would happen.
There’s nothing worse than loving someone with every fiber of your being, unconditionally, and in a way you know it will never end, only to find out they don’t share the same depth of emotion for you. Because at the end of the day, that has the capability to shatter your world and have you questioning everything you once believed to be true.
Looking at me curiously Lexi tucks her legs under her, finding a more comfortable position on the couch.
“What’s on your mind, Tilly? You’ve been sitting there staring out the window for the last ten minutes lost in your head. Are you okay? Is something wrong with the girls?”
She’s right. I have been sitting here absentmindedly gazing out the window. Not at anything in particular, I’ve just been lost in thought. But there is something I want to ask her, I’m having trouble working out how though. Deciding it’s best to bite the bullet and spit it out I look at her, her growing baby belly and sigh.
“How did you do it?”
“Do what,” she asks scrunching her eyebrows together, wrinkling her nose.
“Forgive, Glock. How did you do it so easily?”
I expected any number of reactions to my question but not the bubble of laughter she let slip from her mouth. Seeing Lexi so happy, her face radiating with joy, causes a twinge of jealousy to creep in. I used to be that happy. I used to laugh like that all the time. Well, I did until I found out my husband had been cheating on me for months with some slutty bitch at the club and hiding it. I was positive we’d be together for eternity until I was told by said slutty bitch she was pregnant with my husbands’ child. Still, I was naïve and hopeful everything would eventually work out. That was until he accepted my offer to live his double life without putting up much of a fight, efficiently ending my short period of hope turning it to into silent resignation.
I suppose that’s what rankled me the most. In everything, except that, Tobias fought for what he wanted. He was determined, passionate and dedicated to making sure whatever he had his heart set on he achieved. It devastated me that I obviously wasn’t one of those things. I had been so sure, so positive, it had been me he desired most, that I’d gotten comfortable in that knowledge. Knowledge that wrapped around me like a warm blanket making me feel safe and secure. But clearly I got too comfortable, beca
use like I said, what I thought was true couldn’t have been further from the truth.
When I told Tobias he would have to live with the consequences of his actions, that his punishment would be living the double life he’d inadvertently created for himself, I thought he would rally against my decision. I stupidly assumed he would tell me I was being ridiculous, that it wouldn’t be happening, but he didn’t. He took to his new circumstances like a duck takes to water. If it affected him I couldn’t see it, or he’d become phenomenally good at hiding it.
Tobias was so closed off about his son and Stacey. Everything that had anything to do with that part of his life I was frozen out of. We never talked about it. Tucker didn’t visit with his half-sisters. And we didn’t plan how to adapt our lives to fit the changes it caused. Nothing. We discussed nothing. Tobias just did what Tobias does best, took control of the issue and dealt with it how he saw fit. He’d always been like that though. Controlling, single-minded, and focused when he had an end goal in sight, and this time was no different. We had gotten accustomed to the way he was, and truth be told it was one of the things I like most about him. It took the pressure off me when it came to making all the decisions.
I’d like to tell you my demand was selfless and had been delivered giving thought to what would be best for Tucker too, but it wasn’t. It was a purely selfish move, which had the dual purpose of being a test of sorts. I wanted, no that’s wrong. I needed to know he was willing to put us first. Me first. I needed to hear him tell me he would work it out. That he was staying with us, and us alone. I needed to hear him say it was a mistake, that she was a mistake. Not Tucker, that little boy was a gift just like each of our girls are, but I needed him to tell me she wasn’t anywhere close to as important as we were to him. It may sound juvenile, but until you’re put in the position where your heart is being torn in two, so badly that the constant ache in your chest is nothing but a constant reminder of the pain, you don’t get to judge.
Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel Page 11