23. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Trix
Reeve pulls to a stop outside the diner, which thankfully looks empty inside, although I'm not surprised because it wasn't busy last night either.
"Do you want me to stick around until your friend turns up?" he asks, hand on the key, ready to turn off the ignition.
I shake my head, panic shooting through my stomach at his suggestion.
"No, it's okay," I tell him, then grab my bag from the floor. "She'll be here any minute."
The lie tastes like acid on my tongue, because I'm not here to meet anyone.
My plan is to do exactly what I did last night after Emery dropped me home and I called a cab to bring me to the diner. Stay here through the night, then race back to the trailer park in the morning to wait for Reeve to pick me up, giving off the illusion that I'm still staying there.
Although, due to staying awake the night before, drinking cups of coffee and using most of the cash I had on me, I'm unsure I'll be able to do the same tonight.
My eyes are heavy, my limbs are aching, and I'm running on an empty tank, desperately needing sleep.
Opening the door, I climb outside, wrapping my jacket around me to protect my body from the harsh wind.
"See you in the morning," I tell him, gently closing the door. I drag myself over to the diner, each step requiring more effort than usual.
Warmth hits me when I walk inside, along with the smell of coffee and grease.
"Hey, doll," Mabel says in a cheery tone. "Back again so soon?"
Releasing an awkward chuckle, I shrug. "Just needing a coffee fix before I head home."
Creases form between her brows as she watches me, and then she motions to the corner booth I was sitting in last night.
"I'll bring a pot out for you in a moment."
Making my way to the red leather seat, I slide along it, then place my bag beside me before folding my arms over on the table and resting my head on them.
The side of my face is still tender from the hit my father landed, but thankfully, the red mark he left behind has now gone.
When Emery and Liam asked about it yesterday morning, I'd laughed it off and told them I'd clumsily walked into an open cupboard door. Thankfully, they believed it.
The thought of my best friends has my eyes drooping shut and my stomach rolling.
I hate lying to them, but it's for their own good.
If they knew my father was back, they'd go out of their way to try to accommodate me, and they'd likely feel guilty for letting me go back to the trailer park in the first place.
Too many years of my life have been spent depending on other people to help me, and I refuse to burden the people I love with my issues anymore.
My phone vibrates and I lift it in front of my face, cracking an eye open to look at the screen.
It takes me a few moments to read the words, and that's when I realize it's Wanda replying to my earlier text.
Wanda:
You know my couch is always available for you Pip
Smiling, I place my phone back down on the table, allowing my eyes to fall closed once again.
Wanda had messaged me earlier in the day, checking up on me and asking where I'd stayed last night, wanting to make sure I was safe.
I tried to ease her mind by telling her I'd stayed at a friend's and that I'd likely be staying there again tonight. Whether she believed me or not, I don't know, but the fact she's offering me to stay with her leads me to believe she may know I'm lying to her.
Burying my head in my arms to block out the lights shining down on me, I release a sigh as I listen to the sounds of the diner echoing through my mind.
A soft squeeze on my arm before a gentle shaking sensation jolts my body awake. I peel my eyes open, lifting my head.
Rubbing a hand across my face, I glance up at Mabel, who's smiling at me, a pot of coffee in her hand.
"Sorry, dear. I thought it was best to wake you before the morning crowd started coming in," she whispers.
My brows raise in surprise as I tap my phone to look at the time and see it's almost six in the morning.
Mabel fills the mug on the table with coffee, placing a couple of creamer pods and sugar sachets on the table.
"Thank you," I mumble, grasping the cup between my palms and groaning as the heat of it seeps into my skin. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."
She pats me on the shoulder.
"It's no bother, dear," she says. "Although I've enjoyed your company the past two nights, I think it's best for you to spend some time at home. People will be worried about you."
"Yeah, I guess," I mumble as I pour the creamer and sugar into my cup, then watch the swirling liquid. I stir it and listen to Mabel's retreating footsteps.
Sipping on my coffee, the diner slowly starts to fill with people on their morning commutes. Some only step in for a few minutes to collect drinks and sandwiches to go, while others walk inside and sit at the tables scattered around, having plenty of time for breakfast before rushing off to work.
When the sun starts rising higher into the sky outside, I finish my coffee, place some money on the table, then grab my bag and head down the hallway to the bathrooms.
Once inside, I shut myself in a cubicle and strip out of the clothes I'm wearing, swapping them with the other pair I have in my bag.
Unlocking the door, I swing it open, then walk to the sinks opposite, staring at myself in the rectangular mirror on the wall.
The cropped, long-sleeved top looks crumpled from where it was stuffed in my bag, and the dark shadow beneath my eyes has deepened.
Grimacing, I run my hands under the water, then smooth them over the top, dampening it as I stretch it out, all the while hoping to get some of the creases out.
Wetting my hands again, I run my fingers through my mostly straight hair, making myself look a little more put together.
Rummaging through my bag, I pull out my lip balm and apply a thin layer before grabbing my phone to look at the time.
Twenty minutes until Reeve undoubtedly turns up at the trailer park.
Zipping my bag closed, I hurry out of the bathroom and through the diner, waving goodbye to Mabel on my way past the counter.
Once I'm outside, I glance around the mostly empty street, spotting a cab parked across the road, and I breathe a sigh of relief before running over to it.
The guy leaning against the hood raises a brow at me. He drags his eyes down my bare legs, making me regret switching my leggings for denim shorts.
"Can you drop me to the trailer park?" I ask, knowing the trip is going to cost me my last ten bucks.
He wrinkles his nose, gaze darting away from me as he nods, then rounds the car.
Climbing into the backseat, I sigh, relaxing into the leather seat and closing my eyes, resting them for the duration of the journey.
When he pulls up outside the trailer park, I comb through the mess in my bag until I find my purse. Plucking out a ten dollar bill, I hand it over to him before jumping out of the car.
Once he drives off, I move to the sign and lower myself onto the patch of grass I was sitting on exactly twenty-four hours ago, waiting for Reeve to turn up.
As I'm waiting, I hear the throaty growl of a couple of motorbikes making their way up the road.
My eyes flick over to the leather cuts on the guys' backs as they pass. The sight of the skull with the crossed guns, and the name of the clubhouse I spend so much time at, along with the town name that's stitched into the back of the leather, makes me smile.
Resting my head on my knees, I pick at the grass around me, and it's not long until I hear the deep rumble of a car.
Recognizing the sound, I push myself up from the floor, dusting off my shorts as I watch Reeve's approach.
"Wake up early again this morning?" he asks when I climb into the car.
Clicking my seatbelt into place, I turn to him with narrowed eyes.
"Is that your way of telling me I look tired again?"
He snickers and shakes his head as he pulls away from the trailer park.
"I was asking because you were waiting out on the grass again," he says. "But now you've mentioned it, you do look tired."
"Thanks." I scoff, rolling my eyes.
He releases the gear stick and nudges my arm.
"If it makes you feel better, you still look stunning, even when you're exhausted."
Heat swarms me, and my lips twitch as I turn to look out the window, hiding my face from him.
"I like it most when you blush," he adds, as the warmth in my stomach kicks up a notch at his words.
My teeth sink into my lower lip, and I cross my legs, squeezing them together as I take a steadying breath.
The effect he has on me excites me but also petrifies me at the same time.
It's easy to forget how alluring he is when he slips into his usual gruff, cold self, but when he has moments like this, where he's flirty and sweet, it sends my body into disarray.
"Honey's coming in a little later today," he tells me as he parks outside the clubhouse. "I think she's helping Mabel out with some things this morning, but she should be here by lunch."
I turn to him with a frown. "Honey knows Mabel?"
His brows rise, burrowing beneath the dark wispy curls falling over his forehead.
"Yeah, they're sisters."
"I didn't know that," I mutter.
"Well, now you do," he says with a shrug, then pulls the key from the ignition and opens the door.
I follow suit, even as my stomach sinks at the information he's dumped on me.
If I'd known Mabel had a connection to the clubhouse, I never would've chosen to stay at the diner for the last two nights.
I can only hope that Mabel doesn't know of my link to the club, and won't tell Honey I was there.
"Are you going to stand there all day, Red, or are you coming inside?"
Playfully glaring at the teasing asshole before me, I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, then slam the car door shut and follow him up the steps onto the porch.
He opens the door to the clubhouse, and as I move past him, his palm meets my lower back, guiding me forward.
Shivers course over my body, and heat thrums through my veins from the feel of his skin against mine.
Once we enter the bar, his hand drops away, and I'm swarmed with disappointment from the loss.
"Thank God," Dodger grumbles, lifting his head from the wooden table of the booth he's sitting in. "Trixie, please tell me you have time to make some food?"
Watching as he rubs at his temples and peers up at me desperately through squinted eyes. I'd hazard a guess he's hungover. I'd also assume that's why there's currently a lack of music flowing around the room too.
"Give me five minutes to make sure everything's in order, and then yes, I'll make you some food."
"That goes for us too, right, Trixie?" Slate asks, as he spins around on his seat at the bar while Cruz does the same beside him.
Huffing, I nod. "As long as you all promise to stop calling me that. It's awful."
"So, Reeve's the only one allowed to have a cute little nickname for you?"
"Yes," Reeve says, as he strides over to them and smacks Cruz around the head. "You can just stick to calling her Trix."
Kicking my bag under the bar, I grab the spray and cloth that Reeve is holding, then make my way upstairs.
With the way Dodger's looking this morning, I think it's safe to say they continued drinking after I'd left, so there's no doubt in my mind the living area needs cleaning.
My thoughts are proven correct when I reach the top of the stairs and see bottles littering the small coffee table between the couch and the TV, as well as some scattered across the larger table over by the door that leads to where Reeve's room is.
Sighing, I put the spray and cloth down on the arm of the sofa, then drag the bin from the corner, moving it around with me as I fill it up with glass bottles.
Once the coffee table is empty, I move the bin to the dining table, clearing that off too.
The clinking sound of the bottles rattles through my brain, loud enough for me to not hear footsteps coming up the stairs.
It's not until Mouse is walking into the room that I notice he's here. I jump at his sudden appearance, hand flying to my chest.
His eyes study mine for a moment, then he moves further into the room, dropping down onto the couch.
My chest tightens as I keep my back toward him and wipe down the table, silence filling the space around us.
We still haven't spoken since I asked him about his real name.
Although the lack of conversation between us hurts, I can understand he needs some space and time. It's exactly why I finish cleaning the table, then walk to the stairs.
But before I can leave, his quiet, husky voice stops me in my tracks.
"Are you okay?"
Glancing over my shoulder, I find his eyes locked on mine.
Rolling my lips together, I nod as I turn to face him.
Crinkles form between his brows and his scrutinizing gaze runs over my body before his eyes jump back up to meet mine.
"You haven't been going home."
My lips part, words on the tip of my tongue, ready to defend myself, but he shakes his head.
"There's no point in lying," he states. "I know you've been at the diner for the past two nights."
"What—"
He leans forward, arms resting on his thighs. "I go to the diner most mornings for breakfast. I saw you leaving, and then when I sat down, Mabel mentioned your lengthy visits. She's worried, and now, so am I."
"There's nothing to be worried about," I protest, as my heart pounds in my chest. "Yes, I fell asleep at the diner, but it was an accident. I was waiting for a friend, and I was still drained from the weekend's activities, so I was resting my eyes. The next thing I know, Mabel was waking me up."
He watches me through narrowed eyes, the silence between us stretching.
Sliding my hands into my pockets, I shrug.
"I appreciate the concern, Mouse, but everything's fine. It was just an accident, and it won't happen again."
Before he can respond, I spin around and march down the stairs, my pulse thumping and sweat beading along my skin.
Shit.
I knew I wouldn't be able to keep going back to the diner for much longer, but now, after learning of Mabel's connection to Honey, and also knowing that Mouse is suspicious about my time spent there, I definitely can't go back again.
I'll have to find somewhere else to stay tonight.