Mine Now (The Phantom Vipers MC)

33. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Blake

Why does Hunter give me the time of day?

Especially when a woman like Candace is throwing herself at him. She’s everything I’m not—slim, beautiful, confident. The kind of woman men actually want.

And then there’s me.

Just me.

A fat bitch.

Craig’s voice slithers through my head, the insults he’s thrown at me over the years looping like a broken record. Lazy. Disgusting. Unwanted. Words that have dug themselves so deep into my mind I don't ever think I will scrape them out.

I have never been good enough for this world. Too fat. Too dull. Too easy to forget. Even as a teenager, I was made fun of due to my weight. There were snarky comments from the kids in the hallway at school. Hell, a bully named Joslan locked me inside a janitor's closet for over half of the school day. Hours trapped in the dark, listening the sound of footsteps passing by, knowing no one was coming to help me.

I thought growing up would make it better. That adults would be better. But bullies stay bullies , they just find different ways to break you.And no matter how much time passes, I still can hear every word they said.

I hear laughter to my left and spot Charlie drinking her water and playing with her friends. Oh, what would it be like to be a child again, free of the world's views on what you should look like and how you should act?

The kids' laughter warms my heart just a bit, even though I am wallowing in self-pity right now. I knew what I would be walking into when it came to being surrounded by other women. Society says that women should stand up for other women, but in my experience, I have noticed that most women are worse than men with their judgmental stares and unacceptance. It’s like you have to fit into the same size pants as them, or you don’t fit their standards. Fit into their world.

I toss the rock, I’ve been twirling around in my fingers toward the woods, and stand up. There is no point in sulking like a child. I might as well face the rest of the crowd. It would seem I will be here for a while.

When Hunter sees me come into view, he is on his feet and walking toward me. I don’t know why, but the way he charges me makes me feel fear, and once he is close enough, I shy away from him.

“What’s wrong?” he growls, standing a few feet from me.

I quickly shake my head. “Nothing. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“What are you apologizing for? Stop apologizing.”

He takes a step forward, and my body becomes rigid.

“Stop doing that.”

“What am I doing?” I whisper.

“Cringing away from me like I’m going to hurt you.”

He looks at me with anguish, and I can’t help but replay the past few minutes in my head. I flinched away. Not because Hunter had given me a reason to but because fear is automatic. Conditioned. Built into my bones. The moment he moved toward me, my body reacted before my brain could catch up. Because I know first hand what happens when men get frustrated or embarrassed. Craig taught me that.

I swallow hard, shame settling in my chest. Hunter isn't Craig.

“I’m sorry for the way I handled that. I don’t mean to embarrass you. I just needed some space, that's all.” I look at the ground. “Please don’t be upset with me.”

I hate how small I sound.

He lifts my chin and stares into my eyes for a long moment before saying, “You did not upset me, Blake. I am worried about you. That’s all.”

Worried. Not angry. Not looking to punish me or pick a fight. Just worried about me.

I want to melt in his embrace. I want to feel his strong arms around me, and bury my face into his chest and feel the beat of his heart against my cheek. I hear Charlie’s laughter again in the distance, and I’m pulled out of my haze, remembering where I am.

I clear my throat and take a step back. “I think I’m going to grab Charlie and lie down, if that is okay?”

His mouth forms a thin line as he nods his approval. I can tell he doesn’t want me to go.

I call for Charlie, and we head inside.

The moment we step inside, my stomach tightens.The woman from earlier is perched on the kitchen counter with a cigarette between her fingers and a beer in her hand. She tilts the bottle back and takes a slow swig, her eyes locking onto me the second she lowers it.

The look she gives me is pure disgust.

Here we go.

I know this type—I’ve dealt with them my whole life. Women who see me as a threat when I was never trying to be one. Women who think I’m beneath them because I don’t look like them. Bullies, no different than the ones from high school, except meaner and more bitter. “Go to the room for me, please. I’ll be there in just a minute.” Might as well get this over with now. I hate confrontation, but this woman needs to lay off of me in front of my kid.

She hesitates for only a second before following my command and disappearing around the corner.

I inhale deeply, squaring my shoulders even though every instinct screams at me to shrink. To avoid. To disappear.

Not this time.

Sure enough, as soon as I turn back, the woman slides off the counter and storms toward me.

Shit.

Before I can react, she closes the distance in a few quick strides and slams me against the wall, her teeth bared.

I stiffen, my body automatically bracing for impact.

It’s not Craig. It’s not Craig. It’s not Craig.

“You don’t deserve Hunter’s attention, you slut.” Her voice is venomous, her breath thick with alcohol. Her eyes rake over me with pure revulsion. “You aren’t even his fucking type,”

For a split second, the words sting. Because I’ve heard them before. From Craig. From strangers. From myself.

But then, just as quickly, something shifts inside me. I won’t let her see that it hurts.

I refuse to let her make me feel like nothing.

I nod. “I may not be his type, and I may be disgusting in your eyes. But I’m not here for anyone's attention. I’m just here for a place to stay safe with my child. That’s all.”

She pushes off of my chest and stands in front of me.Her lips curl in a sneer. “Well, he won’t come to my bed, which means you are the reason because I am smoking fucking hot.” She points at her body. “Who wouldn’t want to bed this?”

She is clearly intoxicated, so I let my chuckle slip, raising a brow. “I can definitely see the appeal.”

Her eyes narrow in confusion, as if she wasn’t expecting that response.

I tilt my head. “May I go to the room now? Or do you have something more to say to me?”

She growls and stomps her foot like a child, then marches off in the opposite direction. I’m taking that show as a yes, and I can go to the room. I turn and walk toward the room, my heart still hammering in my chest, my hands shaking slightly.

Charlie sits on the large bed in the center of the room when I walk through the door.

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is that woman so angry with you?”

I shrug. “I’m not really sure, Charlie. Sometimes women just don’t like other women.” I brush a loose piece of hair from her brow. “It will be okay. Let’s get into bed.”

I make up her cot and lay down her pillow. I reach into our bag and grab a brush to comb her hair out and then change her into a large shirt to sleep in. “There you go. Now all we have to do is brush our teeth, and we’ll be ready for bed.”

She grabs her supplies and heads toward the bathroom.

As I crawl into Hunter’s bed, a wave of anxiety settles in my chest. The bed smells like him—clean, warm, and undeniably him—and that alone makes my pulse race.

I quickly stack a barrier of pillows behind me, creating a line I won’t cross. If we don’t touch, if there’s distance, then I can pretend this is just a place to sleep. Nothing more.