Defying Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC #3)

by Shelly Morgan

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask after I’ve calmed myself down.

  She’s quiet for so long, I wonder if she’s fallen asleep in my arms. But then I hear her take a long breath and let it out before speaking.

  “Our parents died before we were even old enough to really remember them. I have no memories of them, and as far as I know, neither did Hendrix. We didn’t have any other family, so we were placed into foster care right after the car accident that took their lives. I’m not sure how long it took us to be placed in an actual house with an actual family because I don’t remember the beginning, but my first memory of being with a family was a pleasant one. The husband and wife were amazing and treated us real good. But we weren’t there long. They had their own baby and suddenly we weren’t there anymore. I guess I can’t blame them for wanting us out when they finally had an actual blood child to care for.”

  Harlow releases me, and figuring she needs some space to talk about what she’s sharing I let her go, even though it is physically painful for me to do so, and watch as she stares off into space.

  “After that, the places we were at sort of blended together. A mixture of group homes and shitty foster parents. They weren’t all horrible, they just weren’t as nice and caring as our first. They wouldn’t buy us new clothes, always giving us crappy hand-me-downs that barely fit. And the only good meal we had was when we were in school. Sure, they gave us food, but we had to cook it ourselves and it was always something like cold sandwiches or mac and cheese. I never had a problem with those meals before, but when you have them every day, let’s just say that if I never ate that shit again it’d be too soon.”

  Now, she’s up and pacing around the room, fidgeting with her shirt. I know the feeling of not being able to stand still because your skin crawls with the memories of the past, so I understand what she’s doing, but I need her to continue—I need her to let me in. I want to be there for her, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what happened. Yeah, I know her brother killed himself, but I have no idea what led up to it, or if she even knows. But the background she’s giving me could help me help her figure it out too. I hope anyway.

  “Then, when we were sixteen, we were put into a house with a man that already had one foster kid living with him. He didn’t have a wife, but our case worker said that he was a great father figure and was happy to take us in, even though we were older than the kids he usually fostered. That right there should have put up red flags, but at that point, it was just another place for us to lay our heads at night. We were just counting down the days till we would be kicked out of the system and have to be on our own. As much as we looked forward to it, we dreaded it all the same. I mean, how would we survive on our own? We knew we would never be able to make it into a college, and even if we did, we had no money to pay for it. What else did that leave us? Working a shitty job with a shitty wage to pay for a shitty apartment? But we’d do what we’d have to do. We’d stick together and we’d take it one day at a time. That’s all we could do.”

  “We were there about six months before I noticed what was going on, or at least, what I thought was going on. The other kid in the house with us was a girl. She was about twelve years of age. She was quiet and seemed off, but I just figured it was because she had a shitty upbringing before she got there. I never thought that what she was actually scared of was being in that house until one night I heard her crying. I could barely hear it, thought maybe I was imagining it, but when I got up to check, I realized what I heard was real and saw the cause of the outcry for myself. The foster dad was touching her—sexually. He wasn’t having sex with her, but he might as well have been. I was so scared; I didn’t know what to do. I mean, it’s not like I could have stopped him, ya know? But I had to do something, so I backed away and made as much noise as I could going to the bathroom almost right across from her room. I didn’t go to the bathroom though. I stood quietly with my ear to the door to see if he left her alone. He did, but he told her to keep her mouth shut or he would shut it for her—permanently.”

  “When I thought I had spent enough time in there, I quietly walked out of the bathroom and when I passed her door, she was alone but still crying. I should have gone to her, asked if she was all right, but considering the warning she got, would she really tell me? Did I even want to know? So what did I do? I just gave her a sad smile and walked back to my room.”

  I can tell she regrets not doing anything and how she acted upsets her, but she’s right; what could she have done? She would have risked herself and that little girl by doing something. She did the only thing she could do to stop him and it worked. She got him away from the girl, if only for a little while. That has to count for something. But the look on Harlow’s face tells me she thinks she should have done more. I want to tell her she did the right thing and there was nothing else she could have done, but before I can open my mouth, she continues with her story.

  “The next day, I pulled Hendrix aside and told him we needed to leave. He had changed as well in the last few months since being there—he lost weight and looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. I thought maybe he saw what I saw or maybe knew something more, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. After witnessing what I did the night before, I didn’t want to talk about it or hear something worse, so I was sure Hendrix didn’t want to talk about it either. He just nodded and said I was right and he’d figure something out for us to get out of there and soon. It was a week later that he came to my room in the middle of the night and said it was time to leave. I didn’t question him and I didn’t ask if we should bring the girl along with us. How would we support ourselves, let alone another kid? So we just left her there, left her alone in that house with that monster to fend for herself.”

  I have no idea what to say to that. To be honest, I probably would have done the same thing. When you’re that young, you shouldn’t even have to worry about taking care of yourself, let alone another child. Shit, you’re a child yourself!

  “Hendrix dropped out of school and got three different jobs. We found a one-bedroom apartment an hour away from where the foster home was and that’s where we stayed until I graduated high school. He said that I needed to stay in school—I argued that I could get a job too, help with the bills, but he wouldn’t have it. Said I needed an education so I could better my life. So I didn’t question him; I just did what he said. I let him work himself to the bone. I knew it was hard on him and I told him every day that I loved him and that when I graduated, I’d get a good job and it would be my turn to take care of him. He just smiled and said, ‘I know, Princess.’ But that day never came, and it never will now. When I graduated, he told me to go off and find a job I loved. Once I had a place set up for myself, he’d follow. I begged him to come with me, but he said he had things to finish there, but as soon as things on my end were solid, he’d find me.”

  By now, she’s stopped and just stares out the window. I want to go to her, but I worry it will be too much for her. After everything she went through, would I push her too far by taking her in my arms? Fuck it. I need to hold her and she needs it too. If she breaks, I’ll hold her together. I’ll be her rock, the person to lift her back up.

  Getting up quietly, I walk across the room and wrap my arms around her from behind. “Then what happened?” I ask after I feel her relax into my embrace.

  “I got too busy in my own life. I moved around a lot, looking for the right place to call home. I didn’t forget about him, I swear I didn’t. I called him at least once a week and told him that I was close to finding a place and a good job. He would just tell me that he was fine and that he had almost everything in place there as well. I don’t know what things he had to take care of, and I never asked, but I figured it was just tying up loose ends at his jobs and getting rid of that apartment.”

  “Then, when I came here, I knew I’d found the place, but I wanted to wait till I had enough money to get out of the crappy apartment I was in and get something bigger for me and him to share.
I was almost there too, so I didn’t call him for a few weeks, thinking I’d call him when I had everything in place and could tell him the good news. But before I could, I got the phone call from the hospital, telling me that my brother was dead. I didn’t believe them at first, but then it sank in. Hendrix was dead and it was all my fault. I should have pushed more for him to come with me right away. I should have done more to find a job and place sooner; I should have worked harder. I should have—” She lets loose a sob.

  “And now he’s g-gone. How could he leave me here all alone? How could he think that I’d be okay without him? Why? Why did he leave?” She’s full on crying now but there’s no anger in her outburst. It’s all sadness, pain, and regret.

  Taking her in my arms, I walk us over to the bed and lay her down beside me, making sure I never let her go in the process. “It’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but I promise, it will get better. I’m here, we’re all here for you, Harlow. Let us help you carry this burden. Let us be there for you,” I whisper into her hair, but I know she hears me when I feel her nod. I feel her finally lose the fight to herself and accept that she doesn’t have to be alone, that we are here for her.

  Minutes later, I feel her breathing even out and her tears dry up. Knowing that she trusts me enough to tell me everything that happened and that I’m allowed to comfort her warms me from the inside out. My heart swells and I finally realize I do love this girl. I’m still not sure if it’s the kind of love that means she’s my soulmate or anything like that. But I do know I love her in the way that I don’t want to be without her, I want to be there for her, and be her friend, her best friend. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure she knows what she means to me. I’ll make her believe that she has me and the club, that we aren’t leaving her, and that we’ll always be there for her, no matter what.

  Chapter 8

  Harlow

  I’m having the same dream I’ve had every night I can remember since I found out that Hendrix was gone.

  It starts with us as children—being happy and carefree—then it jumps to the night we left our last foster home. I was so scared, but Hendrix was there to tell me it was all going to be okay. Then it jumps again to the day I left after graduating, but instead of him pushing me to leave, he’s begging to go with me. I just ignore him and pack up my things and walk out the door, all the while he’s crying and yelling that he needs me and that I can’t leave him there. But this time, instead of me getting into my shitty car and driving off like I do every other night in my dream, I stop and turn toward him. I expect to see his tear-stained face, but instead, I see him smile at me.

  “It took you long enough,” he says as he takes the few steps toward me so we are standing face-to-face, close enough that I could touch him but I don’t. I’m afraid that if I do or if I say anything, this dream with turn back into my nightmare.

  “It’s okay, Harlow. I’m not going anywhere.” He reaches out and touches my face tenderly like he used to.

  “But you did. You left me,” I say quietly, still afraid this will all go away—that he’ll leave me again.

  “I know, but I’ll always be with you. Right here,” he says and places his hand over my heart. “And right here.” The hand that was on my heart moves to gently brush against my temple.

  “It’s not the same.”

  “I know.” I need more. I need to know why.

  “Why did you do it, Hendrix? Why did you leave me? Didn’t you know I needed you? That I can’t be happy in my life without you? You’re my twin, Hendrix. My other half. I need you,” I say, feeling a single tear falling down my face, but Hendrix catches it before it falls to the ground.

  “I know you won’t understand, but I had to go. I was never meant to stay; I see that now. My job was to make sure you were strong enough to be on your own, and I did that. My time was over, but yours is still here. You need to stop living in the past and stop blaming yourself and live. You have people in your life—family—that need you. It’s time to let me go.”

  He takes a step back, and I panic. “No. Please don’t leave me. Not yet. I have so many questions, please. I love you, please don’t leave. I need you, Hendrix!” I yell, trying to walk toward him, but I can’t move.

  “You’re wrong, Princess. You don’t need me, and that’s okay. I’ll always be with you, but I need to go now. Read the letter I wrote you, it will tell you all you need to know. I love you, sis. Always and forever.”

  Then he’s gone. I want to cry, but I can’t, my body won’t let me, so I just stand there and stare at the place where he stood only moments ago. I hate that I feel this calming peace come over my body, but I know that it’s right. What he said was right. I don’t believe some of the things he said, but I know that I need to move on. I’ll always remember him, but I need to live my life and let him live through me. That’s how I can remember him and honor his memory. As much as I don’t want to, I need to let him go.

  I open my eyes, and the sunlight is shining in through the windows. The sun’s rays are shining directly onto a sleeping Louie and I know it’s my brother’s way of telling me that he is my future. It’s him showing me that it’s okay to love and move on, and that I should be with Louie. I can feel it in my heart that my brother would approve of him.

  Raising my hand, I touch his face gently. I have missed him so much and I realize now that staying away for so long was wrong on so many levels. Not only did I hurt myself, but I hurt him and everyone else here by doing so. That’s something I’m going to have to apologize for, but first, I need to feel Louie—all of him.

  Trailing my hand down his face to his stomach, I hear his sharp intake of breath when I touch below his belly button. Not low enough to hit pay dirt, but enough that he knows where this is leading. My heart rate picks up in anticipation and my hand starts to shake with nerves. I haven’t done this since the first and last time that Louie and I had sex—my first and only time—but I need this. I want this.

  “What are you doing?” he says, voice raspy from sleep.

  “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this, but I need you, Louie. I need to feel you inside me. I need you to make me feel alive again, like I know only you can do,” I say before finally moving my hand down further, touching his hard cock straining against his jeans.

  “Fuck, I need to you too, Low, but are you sure? We can wait. After last night—” he starts to say, but I cut him off by grabbing him firmly in my hand.

  “I’m done talking, so if you don’t want this, you better stop me now.” I don’t waste any time grabbing the button on his jeans and lowering his zipper, but he catches my hand before I can get any further.

  Nerves jump out at me again and I worry that he’s actually going to tell me no, to stop, but my fears are quickly dashed aside when he pushes me onto my back and takes my lips in a rough kiss.

  “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says between kisses. Not giving me any time to reply, he leans back in to drink from my lips. And I mean that almost literally. It’s like he’s trying to devour me, starting with my mouth, but you won’t hear me complaining. I’ve missed him so much these last couple years; I can’t believe I even made it an hour without him to at least talk to, let alone have him kissing me, touching me, loving me. The night we shared before I left town was one of the happiest days of my life, but being in his arms now and with his lips on mine, I know that it will soon be overshadowed by better days and memories.

  With my head back in the game, and my body screaming at me to move faster to get him naked and inside of me, I reach down to unbutton his jeans, but am pleasantly surprised when I notice they are already unbuttoned. That’s good, because I really didn’t want to waste time fumbling with his button in my haste to get them off of him.

  Going right for his zipper, I start to lower it when Louie lifts his head slightly and stops my movements with his concerned gaze.

  “Are you sure about this, Low? I mean, I can wait—fuck, it migh
t kill me—but we don’t have to do this today. You’ve been through hell, I’m sure I don’t even know the half of it, but last night had to have taken a lot out of you too. So if this isn’t something you want right now, I’m okay with it.”

  My heart almost breaks with the compassion and love I hear in his voice. I know he means well, and a part of me loves him even more for thinking of my feelings and what I’ve been through at a time like this, but the rest of me just wants him to fuck me already.

  “Louie, I don’t know how to put this lightly, so I’m just going to come out and say it. I want this. I want you. So will you shut up already and just fuck me?”

  Looking deep into my eyes for only a second, but long enough to know that what I said is the truth—that I want this, need this—then he’s on me. It’s a full attack to my body and senses. His mouth is on mine as he rips the shirt from my body. Before I know it, I’m completely naked and I feel his hard cock enter me in one powerful thrust. It’s so filling in more ways than one. He not only entered my pussy, he entered my heart, my soul.

  “Fuck,” he grunts. “So fucking tight.”

  And he doesn’t stop. He’s a man possessed and nothing will stand in the way of his need for me and I feel the same way. I’m desperate to feel all of him and want nothing more than to stay like this, wrapped around his body with him inside of me forever.

  I start to feel that amazing build that starts deep in my stomach and travels all the way to the tips of my toes and down my fingers. I swear I can even feel it building through the strands of my hair. It’s intense. More than I remember our first time being.

  “Louie,” I beg him, but unsure what it is I need. What he makes my body do and how he makes me feel is almost too much for me to bear. I don’t know if I should tell him to stop and give my body a break or to keep going. All I know is that my body is tingling all over and I feel drunk. My mind is getting hazy and I feel like I’m floating.