“We beat the ever-loving shit out of him to provide the motivation. The kind of beating that could’ve netted me three-to-five, easily.”
That doesn’t surprise or bother me. “He fuckin’ deserved it.”
“We both know that wouldn’t have been a defense.”
“You still didn’t deserve to—”
“Don’t talk to me about what I did or didn’t deserve.” He squeezes his fists tight, then opens his hands and stares at them. “What do you want me to do, Marcel? Live life in reverse? Keep on regretting all the time I lost so I ruin the time I have left?”
“No. Fuck no.” A cold drop of doubt extinguishes a few flames of my curiosity. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“Then what’s your end goal here? What’s with the questions?”
What am I hoping to accomplish? Grinder’s been through enough heartache. Why am I trying to poke at his scars? “I want to know how you handled it. How you stopped the regret from eating you alive. How you regained control and made sense of it.”
“I just told you, dipshit.” He slices his hand through the air in front of him. “Look forward to the future. Leave the past where it belongs.” His gaze shifts to the side. “I want to focus on my girl and make a life with her.”
My mouth quirks and I quickly glance down. No fucking kidding he moved fast with Serena. But I’ve said enough shitty stuff tonight. So, I manage to bite back the joke threatening to leap off my tongue. He seems at peace around her. That’s all that should matter.
“Speaking of,” he continues, “you got a beautiful firecracker you’re engaged to. I’m looking forward to attending my first post-incarceration Lost Kings’ wedding. Why the fuck you dragging your feet?”
I’ve held back as long as I can. “We can’t all sprint to the altar as fast as you’re trying to do, Grandpa.”
“Altar,” he grumbles. “Ain’t quite there, yet.”
“We all see it coming a mile away.”
He rolls his eyes instead of throat-punching me. Considering all the muscle he’s put on since he got out, it’s a good thing he keeps his fists clenched at his sides instead of launching one at my jaw.
“We were talking about your wedding,” Grinder prompts. “Come on. Entertain me.”
“I’m not dragging my feet. She’s planning things the way she wants them.” Sure. Keep telling yourself that.
“You’re dragging your feet in other areas, though, aren’t you?” he asks in a low voice.
I cast a quick glance around.
“No one’s listening to us. I might seem like an insensitive asshole, but I get why you’re hanging onto this one, Marcel.”
“Do you? Because I don’t.” That’s one truth I wasn’t able to voice to Rock. “I’m not ashamed, if that’s what you’re thinking. Well, not of him. My mother, yeah.”
“She was a kid too, don’t forget.”
I glare at him. “Not that much of a kid.”
He grunts in disagreement. “What are you so worried about? Club won’t care if you’re blood related. None of their fuckin’ business anyway.”
I’m not so sure I agree with that. The club members could start examining each interaction, assignment, or punishment differently once they know I’m the president’s son. But that’s far down on my list of concerns.
“I don’t know what it will do to Heidi and me.” I search the shadowy area. Between two pine trees, I make out the shape of Blake and Heidi’s tent. They can’t hear us from way over there.
“Or you and Blake?” Grinder asks in a low rumble.
“I—yeah, I guess.” I keep telling myself he won’t care and it won’t change anything. But that’s a lie.
“The longer you drag it out, the more it’s gonna hurt.” He follows my gaze. “The greater the risk of losing both of them.”
That’s one truth I can’t escape or mitigate.
“Trust me, son.” He claps a large hand over my shoulder, a warm contrast to the cool night air. “There’s no prison lonelier than the one you create for yourself.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Charlotte
I can barely keep my eyes open by the time Heidi drops me off at the house. She yawns as she puts the car in park. Even though we followed Hope and Trinity most of the way up the Thruway, the drive felt like it took forever.
“Do you want to come in?” I offer.
She glances at the back seat, where Alexa promptly passed out as soon as we hit the highway. “Better not,” she whispers. “Hopefully Blake’s already home and can help me get her out of the car.”
“He should be.”
“Today was fun, right? I think Serena was really surprised.”
My lips quirk. Serena’s baby shower had been a success. “It was smart to have it at Lilly and Z’s place. Serena didn’t see it coming.”
Heidi glances at the steering wheel, digging her thumbnail into the leather over and over. “I hope it helped her feel…included.”
“I think it did.” Too tired to examine it further, I pull the door handle. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Okay. Thanks for riding home with me.”
“No problem.”
The porch light flickers, drawing our attention to the front door. Marcel stands under the bright glow and lifts his arm in a quick wave.
“Tell him why I want to get home.” Heidi squirms in her seat. “Also, I have to pee.”
Chuckling, I push my door open. “You want to come inside? I’ll wait in the car with Alexa.”
“No, go ahead.”
“All right.” I hop out and slam the door, waiting until she pulls away to head up the stairs.
“She okay?” Marcel asks, meeting me on the porch.
“Baby bladder,” I explain.
He follows me into the house and takes my purse from my hands, setting it on the bench in the hallway. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I admit with more emotion than I expected thinning my voice.
“How was it?” he asks gently, walking me into our living room.
“It sucked.” I hate the pout in my voice. But I’ve been holding it in all day, and Marcel’s the only one who will understand.
“Come here.” He pulls me into his lap and I curl up against him. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”
In his arms, I can finally relax and breathe. “I had to be there. I want Serena to feel welcomed. I’m just…prickly. I don’t want to feel like this, but I can’t help it.”
He sighs and reaches over to flick on the lamp. “I wish you’d talk to the girls.”
“After all this time? What’s the point?”
“Do you want to talk to someone?”
“I’m talking to you.” I pick my head up. “Oh, your sister rammed her whole foot down her throat, saying how easy Hope’s pregnancy was. I thought Hope was going to cry for a second.”