Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Legs
I walk away, needing to put some space between us before I throw something at his head.
My anger is the only thing keeping my heartbreak at bay, and yeah, there’s some fear involved, too.
I don’t think Midas would hurt me physically, and I’m clinging to that hard enough to break my fingertips, but there are a million ways to cut someone without using a knife.
Nothing draws blood faster than a sharpened word and veiled threats.
I run my finger through my hair and try to formulate a plan. Del will be losing her damn mind. At the very least, I need to let her know I’m safe before she storms the police station, or worse, the MC compound.
“Legs.” Midas steps up behind me, his hands wrapping around my arms.
I shrug him off and whirl around. “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk. I need to get back to my life, Midas.”
He grits his teeth but nods toward the sofa.
I sit on the chair instead so he can’t sit beside me.
He shakes his head and sits on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of me.
I’d roll my eyes if I didn’t think he’d consider it playful.
That’s all this is to him—a game. I’m not sure why. I was never a prize he wanted to win.
“I don’t even know where to start.” He rubs his hand over his face, and for the first time, I really study him, and notice how tired he looks.
“Start somewhere. Anywhere.”
“Alright. I was wrong.”
I swallow. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.
“I knew the second I flipped my shit, I was going to lose you, but I couldn’t stop.”
“Because you’re an asshole.”
“Because I needed you to be lost.”
I shut up, but I’m not sure how to react to that.
“You think the way I treated you in all the time we spent together was about how I looked at you as less. But it wasn’t.”
I scoff at that. My being a club girl was far more than he could deal with, which would have been fine if he’d stayed clear of me and stopped messing with my head.
“I’ll admit you being a club girl fucked with me, but not for the reasons you think.”
I fold my arms and wait for him to continue, trying to curb my impatience. I’ll admit I’m curious about where this is going.
“My mom was a club girl,” he admits, making my eyes widen.
“I thought you grew up in foster care?” I say softly.
“Eventually, yeah.” He sighs, his gaze slipping just beyond me to the window. “She was eighteen when she hooked up with an MC. It wasn’t like Raven Souls, but it wasn’t the worst MC out there, either. They were just old school and stuck in their ways.”
“Your dad?”
“One of the club brothers. One of the married club brothers.”
I wince at that, imagining how well that went down.
“His old lady wanted nothing to do with me. Not that I blamed her. I was a constant reminder of her old man’s unfaithfulness.
On the flip side, my dad wouldn’t let my mom leave and take me with her.
I was an MC kid regardless of who my mother was.
She wised up and wanted out, but he made it clear that she wouldn’t be taking me with her.
One day, she had had enough and took off, leaving me behind. ”
“I’m sorry.” And I am. Sorry for the kid who lost his mom, and sorry for the young woman trapped in a life she hated, seeing no other way out.
He shrugs. “It hurt when I was a kid. I understood it better when I got older. It’s different when you’re not looking at things through a wounded child’s eyes.
The problem was that my mom was gone, and there was nobody there to raise me.
I think my dad thought the threat of him keeping me would hold her hostage. He never expected her to leave anyway.”
“So they put you into foster care to spite your mom?”
“Not quite. I bunked with the prospects at the clubhouse, saw far too fucking much for a boy my age, and dragged myself up as well as I could. Trust me, it only takes a few times of getting picked on for dirty clothes before you learn how to do laundry.”
I fist my hands at my side, disgusted that any kid should have to go through that.
“I didn’t know at the time that my mom got a job and a place to rent and that she was actively fighting for visitation, visitation that was denied multiple times due to her promiscuous lifestyle.
It was bullshit, of course. It’s why she left the MC, to begin with. She wanted something more out of life.”
“So your dad could fuck around, and that was fine, but your mother was held to a higher standard? Why is it always that way for women? If you sleep with ten women, you’d be a stud. If I slept with ten men, I’d be a slut.”
He shrugs, not having the answers. “Anyway, my mom was killed in a hit-and-run when she was coming home from work one night. I never got to see her after she left, and I blamed my dad for that until the day he died. I still do, actually.”
“Your dad died too?”
“A year after my mom, almost to the day. He lost control of his bike, went through the guardrail, and over the side of a cliff. His old lady was on the back of his bike.”
“And instead of the MC keeping you close and raising you as one of their own, they threw you away.” I know where this is going. I lean back and rub my temples. “I hate that for you, Midas. I really do, but it still doesn’t explain why you treated me like I wasn’t good enough for you.”
He rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward.
“I was well aware of the power imbalance between a brother and a club girl. I knew I’d mess up because I’ve got issues coming out of my ass.
And I knew, of the two of us, it would be me left standing at the end.
It was the first time I felt resentment toward the club. ”
“Wait, you were pissed because you knew they’d take your back over mine?”
He nods, earning himself a huff of disbelief from me.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Why would I? Even if that was your mindset, you could have fought to make us work instead of tearing us apart. You let your fear turn everything into a self-fulfilling prophecy. You became the very person you hated. And for what?”
“To save you from me.”
“Oh for fuck sake.” I stand up and hold my ground when he does the same.
“The time for saving me was long gone. You can dress up your excuses all you want, but I’m not buying any of it.
Twisting the narrative to fit your story only works when the other person wasn’t there to witness it all.
But I was there for it every step of the way, Midas.
I remember every second of our demise. Don’t come here and try to paint over the shit with roses now. ”
His jaw ticks with anger, but he doesn’t reach for me. “I knew you’d leave. I needed you to, before I couldn’t let you go.”
“Couldn’t let me go? You practically drop-kicked me out of there,” I yell.
“Because I’m not good enough for you. I’m sure as fuck not good enough to be a father. Why do you think I can’t have kids? The man upstairs knew what a fuck-up I was and took that away from me.”
“You don’t believe that.” I lower my voice because the look on his face eviscerates me. He’s not lying. He truly thinks he’s worthless. “But you’re Midas. Everything you touch turns to gold. Everything you put your hand to becomes a success. Your brothers respect you. Women fawn over you—”
“And none of it means anything. You can polish a turd to make it shine on the outside, Legs, but it’s still full of shit on the inside.”
I fight the urge to reach for him. I hate seeing him hurt, even now after everything. The only thing that holds me back is that my trust in this man is shattered, and I can’t be one hundred percent sure that this isn’t all a ploy to get me exactly where he wants me.
“I’m not trying to belittle what you’re feeling in any way here, but it sounds like you had a lifetime of people treating you shitty, and somehow you found yourself in a place where that stopped.
You’re surrounded by people who care about you, but you don’t know how to deal with any of that, so you started treating yourself shitty instead. ”
He frowns at me, like a looming dark angel ready to smite me. “I don’t treat myself shitty.”
“Don’t you? Do you seek out people for advice and actually listen to them, knowing they have your best interests at heart?
Or do you just hit the self-destruct button?
Do you do things that make you happy, that make you feel alive?
I mean, you own this whole building, run a successful company, and you fucking hate it all. ”
He jolts at that.
“The others might not have figured it out, but I know you, Midas. I see you.”
He slides his hand into my hair and kisses me hard, pouring all his regret into it. I relax into him, my soul reaching out to his. Before I lose my damn mind, I pull back.
“No. That’s not what this is. I’m just trying to be your friend here, Midas.”
“We were never friends, Legs. We never could be. Do your other friends know how you kiss, how you feel when you come, how you taste?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Isn’t that what got me kicked off the island in the first place? I was a club whore, Midas, and you pretending otherwise will get us nowhere.”
By the time I’m done, both our chests are heaving. Neither of us has anything to say to that. We stand there in a stalemate, waiting for the other to give up, even though I know he won’t bend and I refuse to break.
“I need to get home, Midas. This was a lot, and I need time to process. You’re right. We were never friends, but maybe one day we could be. I just need space.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Your words say the opposite of your actions, so excuse me if I have a hard time believing it.”
“No, not for that. I’m sorry for this.”