Lifting my shoulders in suspension, I drop them suddenly in an overstated shrug. I’m trying to make a point here. Thor seems to catch on when his expression turns sour. Making a disgruntled noise in his throat, he thrusts his phone aggressively into his jeans front pocket and shoves off his chair to stand.
Taking a step forward, he stops next to my patio lounger, and I peer up at him as he glances down at me. “I’m gonna head, but I’ll be in touch.” Leaning over, he presses a chaste kiss to my upturned forehead.
“Later, beautiful.” Thor winks at me as he walks away and flashes me a faint disheartened grin. I wave goodbye just as he turns the corner and ambles up the incline. Listening, I catch an engine purr to life and rocks crunch under tire treads as he pulls away.
Um. . .What just happened? That was. . .um. . .awkward?
“What a fricken jerk!” Bridget hollers next to me, making me jump and snap to look at her, eyes sprung wide.
She barks a silly laugh and covers her mouth. “Sorry,” she murmurs behind her dainty fingers. “But seriously,” she drops her hands to her lap, “he only came here ‘cause Dad’s at work. Dad would kill him if he knew.”
That last statement makes my eyes blast even wider. Now that’s not something I expected her to say. More guilt floods my system, and I immediately text her a sincere apology to make things right. I knew this was all my fault.
I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t know.
After I click send, my eyes guiltily stare at my lap, and Bridget wraps her petite, polished fingers around my bicep. Hesitantly, I peek her way. There’s a soft, sentimental smile curling from the corners of her lips as her eyes search mine.
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. There’s nothing to apologize for.” She gives my bicep a tiny squeeze and lets go, but retains eye contact. “I was textin’ Thor while Dad was messaging you. I didn’t tell Dad about Thor bein’ here. You can. But he woulda came home, and I’m sure there woulda been a fight.”
Using my phone quickly, I punch a text to her.
A fight?!
Humorlessly, Bridget laughs. “Yes,” she nods, “and Thor would have lost.”
Bridget pauses for a moment, deep in thought, before she continues. “I’m gonna tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell my dad, or anyone that you know. Especially not my dad.”
I cross my finger over my heart. Bridget nods her understanding of the gesture. It’s a girl thing.
“When we first moved here, Dad joined my uncle Sniper’s club. They didn’t prospect him, which is what most motorcycle clubs do. You know what that means?”
Since I have no idea what that means, I shake my head.
“A prospect is a grunt they take on, and make do stuff to prove himself and his loyalty to the club before he’ll be patched in as a full member,” Bridget clarifies.
That makes sense.
“My dad didn’t do that. Sniper and Dad have been friends since elementary school. Thor joined a couple months before Dad. Except, Thor had to prospect for an entire six months before he patched in.”
So that’s what made Thor mad? I text.
“Right.” She nods, twisting in her chair to face me. I lean back and do the same, so we’re face-to-face, before she keeps on. “Dad started going to the club parties by himself at first, ‘cause Mom wanted nothing to do with this ‘stupid boy stuff’,” she air quotes. “Those were her words, not mine.”
I bob my head, letting her know I comprehend.
“But she’s also a very jealous person.” Bridget’s eyes roll with that statement. I grin at the silliness. “From what Whisky’s told me, my mom showed up to one of the parties, got drunk, and snuck away to make-out with Thor...”
I gasp with my hand covering my mouth.
“Good thing Whisky caught ‘em before my dad did, or Thor woulda been a dead man. Apparently, my aunt smacked my mom around a bit and ordered Thor to leave. She had Casanova drive Mom home before she and Sniper sat my dad down to tell him what happened.”
Meredith cheated on Lachlan?! See! She is a bitch! I knew it! Poor Lachlan.
Bridget’s not finished. “The way Whisky explained it, ‘cause Dad would never tell me any of this, was Thor ‘apparently’, ” she air quotes again, “didn’t know she was my dad’s wife. So he just thought she was some club groupie who wanted a piece. Thor’s used to getting pieces, if you know what I mean.” She winks, and I shake my head in disbelief. Ridiculous.
“Thor apologized to Dad. And Dad was given a shot to kick the crap outta him, but wouldn’t take it. Now, Thor and Dad’s friendship has been sorta strained. They’re club brothers and they get along, but my dad doesn’t really like him, and I know Thor definitely doesn’t like Dad.”
All because your mother cheated on your dad, and your dad didn’t prospect? I ask for clarification.
Bridget reads the message, then lifts her eyes to mine again. “More or less.” She shrugs. “I think, but I don’t know this for sure, that Thor’s jealous of Dad. He’s a decorated military veteran. He’s ten years older than Thor, but he’s Scottish, so his muscles and build are massive. Dunno what Dad’s told ya, but Thor owns a gym in town, and it doesn’t look good when a man my dad’s age has a better body than the younger gym owner. In a bigger city, maybe nobody’d notice or care, but in Carolina Rose, everyone knows everyone, and gossip’s worth more than gold.”
I know that small town rule quite well. Everyone knows everything. It’s sweet in some senses, but privacy robbing in others. I also get what Bridget means about the jealousy; she could be right. Though, I don’t really think that Thor could be jealous of Lachlan if he’s getting lots of pieces, as Bridget explained. Lachlan doesn’t seem to be the cheating kind, but I don’t know him well enough, I suppose. Thor. . .he does seem like a smooth operator, and Meredith messing around with him is pretty sick if you ask me. Whether you like your husband or not, you don’t make out with some random dude you don’t even know. I don’t care if you’re drunk or not; that’s just a lame excuse. And I really have to stop thinking about this before I get even more worked up. My heart rate is rising.
I’m saved by my phone as it vibrates, stealing me from reeling thoughts. Most of them not so nice. Most of them centered about Whisky telling Bridget things about her parents that she probably shouldn’t have told her; which kinda ticks me off, too. The other part is me trying not to picture Thor with his pretty blond head smashed under the heel of my boot for being such a jerk. At this point, I’m so stinkin’ upset that I’m tempted to delete his number from my phone and never speak to him again, just because I can. Guess I can contemplate that later and check my phone instead.
Good grief, I don’t have one message. I’ve been so caught up with Bridget that I have five—all from Lachlan.
Me, too, is his first text. Which coincides with me telling him that I was happy to hear nobody got injured. The next follow in succession:
You there?
What are you wee lassies gonna do today?
Why am I not gettin’ a reply?
Need me to come home? If I don’t hear from ya in the next hour, I’m coming home.
The last one was sent a minute ago.
Making haste, I tap out a response to calm his concern.
Not doing much today. Outside on the loungers talking. You don’t have to come home.
Bloody hell, don’t make me wait that long again. What’d ya both eat for breakfast? You did eat, didn’t you?
Doughnuts, I reply.
How’d ya get those? We don’t have any in the house.
Slamming my eyes shut, I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have said that, but I can’t lie either. What am I doing?! Gah.
Reopening my eyes, I take a gander over at Bridget, who’s smiling as happy as can be while playing on her phone. With a deep, resigned sigh, I relinquish control and bite the proverbial bullet before self-loathing and guilt starts to take its toll.
Here
goes nothing.
Thor came by today, and he brought Bridget and me some doughnuts.
I tap send, and my thumbnail instantaneously goes to my mouth. I nibble on it, fearful of his reaction. The phone clutched in my hand buzzes with an incoming message. Peeking at it, I swallow thickly.
Thor, you say?
Yes. He dropped by, and without thinking, I let him inside. I’m sorry. I probably should have asked first.
Mags, you don’t have to ask permission. It’s your home, too. Is he still there?
Mags. . .Just seeing the name he started calling me makes me. . .oh. . .I dunno. . .but it’s a good feeling. A very good one. I’m just going to skip over the home part before my stomach starts doing cartwheels and I throw up.
He left already. Didn’t stay long.
Did he ask you to the clubhouse on Sunday?
Yes. But I told him no thanks.
Do you wanna go? I was gonna ask, but I didn’t want to push. I know you’ve had a lot to deal with since your accident.
Was he really going to ask me? Or is he just trying to be nice? He doesn’t seem like a bull-shitter, but I’ve been wrong before. Too much thinking. I’ve got to stop this before I over analyze this too dang much. My grams always said it’s a female thing, but I’ve never had a close female friend in my entire life, so I can’t say I know if that’s true or not.
I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay, I respond.
Sure. If that’s what ya wanna do.
It is.
Fuck, we gotta another call. I’ll be in touch. Don’t forget to eat your sandwich for lunch. Tell Pip I’ll text her later. Be safe.
You, too.
Setting my phone in my lap, I stare out into the peaceful yard and send a small prayer to heaven, asking God and my grams to keep Lachlan and his crew safe.
Amen.
Straddlin’ the table bench, my arse, cock, and balls rest bare on the cold, damp wood as my kilt drapes over my thighs. Aye, I know I should probably tuck it, but it’s bloody hot out here and it feels damn good. My black ridin’ boots rest on the grass as I scuff my toe into the turf, diggin’ up dirt due tae boredom. Pip and I arrived at the clubs cookout aboot an hour ago. She’s been busy helpin’ Whisky, my sister, with the food ever since. Pip had asked me yesterday if we could come early, even though I didnae want tae ‘cause that meant I had tae leave Mags home by herself. Five times we asked her tae ride with Pip in the Tahoe, and five times, she told us na thank ye. Thought I was gonna stroke the bloody hell out when I rode my Harley here today without her in the truck that followed me in. Wanted tae throw her arse over my shoulder and make her come, but I didnae wanna scare her.
Scratchin’ my chin with my palm, I growl lowly in my chest. Fuckin’ hell! I knew I shoulda forced her tae ride with Pip. Now, I’m not gonna stop wonderin’ what she’s doin’ or how she’s doin’. I texted her when we arrived, and she’s not replied back.
Yesterday, I got home after my shift at the firehouse and I was lookin’ forward tae seein’ Pip and Mags. Only Mags didnae wanna see me. She spent the whole fuckin’ day in her room or the bathroom. This mornin’, when I went tae the barn tae let off some steam, I threw on my workout playlist, thinkin’ it might make her come outside. Na, it didnae work; she ate breakfast with Pip in the kitchen, and I only got tae see her right before I rode out. I dunno what’s wrong, but she’s been actin’ different ever since Thor came tae the house. Her texts have been shorter. Not that she’s said much, anyway. I’m lucky tae get anythin’ outta her. She won’t share aboot herself, or how she’s takin’ this whole bloody mess. Most lassies wouldn’t be so calm and collected as she is. The only time I get a rise outta her is when I’m in her space. I can tell she’s either nervous or scared around me. I dunno why, though. And she’s always holdin’ her wee breath, and her eyes are always gettin’ wide. It’s cute tae watch.
The sound of boots approachin’ has me lookin’ over my shoulder tae see who’s comin’ my way. I chose this table, because it’s the furthest from the clubhouse. Dinnae like tae socialize if I dinnae have tae. Club parties aren’t my thing, but I come because it makes my sister, Sniper, and Pip happy. Too many bad memories from club parties in the past; now I avoid ‘em if I can.
Casanova, the club’s VP, raises his hand in silent greetin’ and lifts his chin. I raise mine in return. Kickin’ his boot up and over the bench, he pops a squat across the table from me, and I turn my body just enough tae make eye contact.
“What’s up, bro? Didn’t bring the new chick today? Just heard Whisky bitching about it with Pip. We all figured she’d be here,” he says, pullin’ a pack of Marlboros from his chest pocket, tappin’ the end, and slidin’ one out before hangin’ it from his bottom lip. Lightin’ it with the flick of a match, he takes a long drag.
Figured my sister would wanna know if Mags was gonna be here. Wish she’d stop bein’ so bloody fuckin’ nosy and mind her own damn business. Let me handle this my way.
“Na. She didnae wanna come,” I explain. Good thing aboot Cas is he’s quick as a fuckin’ whip, so it ain’t too hard for him tae understand me when I’m talkin’. Nice tae have a brother, other than Sniper, who gets me right away.
Blowin’ smoke outta the corner of his mouth, Cas grins as his grey eyes cast behind me, toward the clubhouse that Sniper built out of an old barn, that’s connected tae an oversized garage. The barn itself has turned into a man’s hangout spot for the brother’s tae wrench on cars and fuck on straw bales, which reach the ceilin’ at certain times of the year. On the other side, the garage was converted into a dive bar with a pool table, beer posters, and a sweet sound system. Right now, we’re at the back of my sister and Sniper’s property, behind the clubhouse. Sniper’d bought this shithole country house and land after he was medically discharged from the Marine Corp after only three years. A torn rotator cuff and nerve damage durin’ a trainin’ exercise gone wrong. He changed his tune and fixed this place up. Then, he decided that my sister was gonna warm his bed at night and he started the club. That was aboot twenty years ago.
Cas’s grin grows till he’s showin’ teeth. Fuckin’ hell, I know who he’s gotta be smilin’ at. I don’t have tae wait long tae find out. Whisky purposely bumps into my shoulder from behind as she passes by, then hooks both her legs over the bench and takes a seat next tae me.
Restin’ her elbows on the tabletop, she sideways glances my way after pleasantly greetin’ Casanova. “What’re you doin’ sittin’ out here while all the brothers sit their asses up there, drinkin’ and havin’ a jolly ol’ time?” She nods her head back the way she just came. “Peanut even brought Rosie out on the bike with him today. You’re bein’ an asshole not socializing with your family,” my sister, who’s two fuckin’ years younger than me, scolds with her fiery Scottish attitude.
Instead of arguin’ with her, I grumble my response, and she cuts me a sharp glare, pursin’ her lips.
I dunno what she expects. I’m not gonna argue with her, ‘cause that’s what she wants. She likes tae argue. I do not. All these bloody fuckin’ lasses and their need to bitch aboot somethin’, yell aboot somethin’, complain’ aboot somethin’. I’ve lived with it for seventeen years, and I dinnae have the patience in me anymore. I know Whisky means well; she always does. That’s why I love my sister, even if she’s a stubborn arse. But I’ve got too much goin’ on in my life right now. Addin’ her shit ain’t gonna help. Definitely not when I’m sittin’ back here tae stay away from Thor, the fuckin’ bastard who came tae my home tae see Mags without my permission. I’m afraid when I do see him, I’m gonna gut the grimy bastard. Far’s I’m concerned, I shoulda done it long ago.
Briefly shakin’ her head in exasperation, Whisky’s voice softens, “You’re even more of a sullen sourpuss today than usual. What gives?”
I cannae lie tae my sister so I tell her the truth. “Mags didnae wanna come today,” I growl. “She’s at home, alone. And I know Thor’s sittin’ up there with Sniper by the grill. I
canna be around him today.”
I cross my arms over my chest and squeeze tae help take the ache away, even for a fuckin’ minute. It’s been constant for weeks. The more my adrenaline pumps and my mind thinks, the worse the feelin’ becomes. I cannae describe it. But it fucks with my head and I cannae think straight. It’s centered in my stomach and spreads into my chest—even my arms and legs get consumed by it if I don’t squelch the intensity. Never felt it before in my life. It’s like a cavernous, soul-burning heat, that I cannae put a name on.
“What’d Thor do now?” She tilts her head tae the side patiently waitin’ for me tae answer.
“Thor dropped by the house the other day tae see Mags while I was workin’.”
My lip curls in a snarl just thinkin’ aboot those texts from Mags apologizin’ for Thor’s stupid arse. My first instinct was tae be pissed the fuck off, but I squashed that before I lashed out at the bonnie lass. Spent three hours in the firehouse gym that night workin’ out my pent-up rage, and afterward, I jacked-off twice in the locker room shower. Nothin’ worked.
Whisky’s hand tenderly brushes my cheek, and I recoil, my instincts takin’ hold. Before I can control the impulse, I’ve got her hand tightly clutched in my palm. Across the table, Cas makes a noise like he might do somethin’. But he dinnae, because I lock my emotions down before I hurt someone. My sister taps her freehand on the one I have wrapped around hers, and I let go with a rushed exhale. Peerin’ at my hands, I stretch my fingers wide, kickin’ myself in the arse for reacting that way. I’ve gotta get a fuckin’ grip. All the brothers are here with their families. Now ain’t the time tae act like some barbaric arsehole.
“You got all this anger, Lachlan. It ain’t good. And you hidin’ back here away from Thor ain’t gonna settle anything. You gonna be a man and stand your ground?” Whisky tests.
Sneaky lass.
Snortin’ somberly, I scowl at her. Casanova snorts, too, blowin’ smoke our way. Except he finds this shit funny. It ain’t. I’m tryin’ tae keep this rage on lockdown and not get into a fight in front of those children, includin’ my Pip. Nobody wants tae see that ‘cause I’m dealin’ with some unresolved bullshit.
Beyond Her Words (Corrupt Chaos MC) Page 11
