Another photo catches my eye underneath all the others, and I pull it out, my heart seizing in my chest. It’s a photo of Ali petting Bear on the porch, and there’s a note on this one. When I read it, I slam my fist down onto the table, my blood running cold.
She’s almost as gorgeous as our girl.
Rage that I’ve kept buried so long bubbles out of me, and the face that I was trying so hard to forget is front and center in my mind. Pain hits me. A stab of white-hot agony smacks right in my chest, and it’s just as potent as the day I lost everything. I lay my forehead on the table, closing my eyes as I try to just fucking breathe without a wave of pain rocking me, but the longer I sit, the angrier I get. My fist starts pounding against the table as I think about that piece of shit sending me this photo. He won. He doesn’t get to taunt me with that fact for the rest of my life. Not like I need the reminder anyway. Each time I close my eyes, it’s all I can fucking see.
I look up and focus on the photo again, rereading the words over and over, the anger building higher and higher until it feels like my body is going to come apart at the seams. Reaching under the table, I flip it and jump out of my chair, screaming out into the empty house in a desperate attempt to release this anger before it kills me. Photos flutter through the air as I march to the door and press my forehead to it as I pound my fist against the wood, screaming again in agony. The girl I love is gone, and it’s all my fucking fault. This pain, the all consuming, eat away at your soul, rip me apart because it would feel better than this, anguish is all that I deserve. If I could go back in time and fix things, I would, but life is never that kind.
Spinning, I pick up a chair and throw it against the wall. Anything to release this anger because I feel like it’s burning me alive, eating away at my insides. It shatters and knocks a box down off a shelf. Picture frames scatter across the hardwood floors, and I’m face to face with her once again. I fall to my knees and place my hand over my chest as I struggle to draw air into my lungs. Each breath stabbing my insides, and if I close my eyes, I can picture the day I met her perfectly in my head. Her smiling face taunts me, pulling me deeper into that darkness, and any light that Ali gave me today is gone. Once again, I’m at the bottom of the pit, and there is no escape.
* * * *
Blaze:
Where the fuck are you?
Me:
On my way.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and drop my head, unable to look at her face any longer. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here but I’m sure that I missed church and Blaze is pissed. I can’t seem to give a shit right now though. Bear whines from his place next to me, and I run my hand through his fur. When Emma handed me this little ball of fur that she rescued from a shelter, I thought she was crazy, but now I’ve kind of gotten used to him. In fact, this house wouldn’t be the same without his crazy antics.
Sighing, I get up off the floor and quickly pick up all the frames, doing my best to avoid looking at them. I can’t stand to look at her, and I can’t stand to get rid of these photos either. My eyes close, and I breathe out slowly, shoving all this shit down where it belongs again as I return the box to the shelf. I’m the VP of this club, and all these guys count on me. I can’t go losing my shit on them.
When I feel under control again, I open my eyes and march over to the upturned table to find the photo. I fold it and shove it into the pocket of my hoodie as I head outside and scan the street. I don’t see anything out of place but I know he’s got someone watching me somewhere. At least now we know the girls aren’t in any danger. I jump on my bike and fire it up before backing out of the driveway, taking off down my street, loving the feeling of weightlessness as I ride to the clubhouse.
Everyone’s bikes are still lined up outside when I pull up, and I wonder for a second why they all didn’t bail out after church. Then again, there’s a good chance most of them were already drunk before church. I park my bike and climb off, stomping up to the front door and flinging it open. That photo is burning a hole under my cut, and I know I gotta tell Blaze what’s going on. Everyone is gathered around the bar, laughing, and they all freeze as I walk in. I give them a quick nod.
“Blaze is lookin’ for you,” Chance says, tilting his head to the side to indicate that he’s in his office, and I nod.
“You all right, Storm?” Streak asks, and I nod again, starting off toward the office.
“Fucking peachy.”
I stop in front of the office and knock on the door before opening it and stepping inside, shutting the door behind me. Blaze looks up from the papers in front of him and arches a brow.
“I know who’s following me,” I snap, tossing the photo down on his desk. He picks it up and reads over the message, a grim expression falling over his face. He lays the photo down and glances up at me.
“I guess I don’t have to ask how you are.”
“I’m great,” I bite out, the anger building inside me again.
“Who’s the girl?” he asks, pointing to the photo on his desk.
“My neighbor.”
He studies me for a moment and reaches out for the glass of bourbon on his desk, taking a sip. “She important?”
I shrug. I don’t know what the fuck she is. “No.”
“You know, it’s okay to move on with your life.”
I scoff and look away from him. That’ll never fucking happen.
“She’s gone, and you torturing yourself isn’t gonna do a single fucking thing to change that. She would hate that you’re doing this to yourself.”
I turn my gaze back to him, letting him see how dead serious I am when I say, “This conversation is over.”
He sighs and nods, taking another sip of his bourbon as he stares down at the photo. “Why now?”
I just shrug, and he slams his glass back down on the desk. “Come the fuck on. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
“He may be out for revenge.”
“Revenge for what?” he asks.
I shrug again, and he watches me for a second before his eyes widen and he stands up. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck did you do? I explicitly told you to leave him alone.”
“I did what you and every other guy in this building would have done. Don’t act like you wouldn’t have either, Prez. I was never going to let him get away with what he did.”
He shakes his head and leans forward, planting his hands on the desk in front of him. He may not like it but he knows I’m right. When Emma was in trouble last year, there isn’t a thing Blaze wouldn’t have done to protect her.
“You had any other communication with him?”
“Nope. I was kind of hoping he was dead.”
He stands and nods, pointing to the door behind me. “Time for church. I’ll deal with you later. I’m putting you back on runs but don’t go doing anything until we figure this shit out.”
“Not likely,” I mutter to myself, too quiet for him to hear before I spin and march out of the office, ignoring everyone else as I head into the room where we have church and sit in my chair, directly to the left of Blaze’s seat at the head of the table. Everyone else files in, casting questioning glances in my direction but I ignore them, wanting to get out of here. Chance walks in and arches a brow in question as he looks at me, and I just shake my head. Everyone in this room knows the shit I went through and would sympathize but I can’t talk about it right now. It’s still too fucking raw.