Chapter Twenty-Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE AIR WAS thick with the smell of smoke and too much perfume, almost choking me. Or maybe it wasn’t the smells suffocating me, but what my eyes were seeing.
All they see is her sitting across the room, laughing and talking with Gearhead, Boots and Horse.
Fiona’s laughter cut through the noise, light and carefree in a way that twisted something deep inside me. She was smiling at Gearhead like he was the funniest guy in the room, her eyes sparkling in a way I hadn’t seen since everything went to hell. And it made me want to tear something apart.
I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening around the bottle in my hand. In my mind, I pictured beating that smile off Gearhead’s face, but it wasn’t helping. Watching her with him, watching her lean into him, laughing at whatever joke he’d just cracked, it was driving me to the point of complete madness. I kept trying to catch her eyes, but she wouldn’t even look my way.
“You gonna break that bottle or what?”
Spinner’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. I glanced over at him, my grip loosening on the bottle as I realized I’d been holding it too tight. Spinner was looking better, still bruised and using crutches because of the cast on his leg.
“Chill, man,” Gatsby added, leaning against the bar beside me, smoking on one of those cigars of his like some fifty’s gangster. “You’re gonna drive yourself to the crazy house.”
I let out a breath, trying to calm the raging storm inside me. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, sure you are,” Spinner muttered, taking a swig of his beer. “You’ve been staring at Fiona like you’re ready to murder someone for the last half hour.”
I didn’t respond, my eyes flicking back to where she was sitting. She was so damn pretty, even more so when she was laughing, and it only made the jealousy burn hotter in my chest.
“You need to let it go, Bolt,” Spinner said, his tone serious. “You’re gonna make this worse if you go over there and start some shit. Hit the weight room, take another scouting run, but to save your ass from being beat by Horse, don’t go over there.”
“Yeah, and you know Gearhead isn’t gonna back down if you start throwing punches,” Gatsby added. “He’s been into her since day one.”
The thought of him wanting Fiona made my blood boil. They were right. I’d just make a scene and get my ass handed to me by her old man. Not that I cared about getting into a fight, but it wouldn’t help anything.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to look away, trying to rein in the jealousy. “That fucker is tryin’ to piss me off.”
“Then don’t look,” Spinner said simply. “Figure your shit out, but don’t start nothin’ till you do.”
I stood up, needing to get out of there before I did go beat the shit out of Gearhead. “I need some air.”
Spinner nodded. “Breathe deeply, brother.”
How could Spinner stay so calm all the time? Was it because of his toy gadgets? If so, maybe I should borrow a couple.
I didn’t answer, pushing my way through the crowd toward the exit. The fresh air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, the noise of the party fading into the background. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head, but it didn’t help. All I could think about was Fiona, and the way she looked at Gearhead like he was the answer to all her problems.
I was about to head around the side of the clubhouse when I almost collided with someone.
Jenny, the bitch.
She smirked, leaning against the wall, a sly smile playing on her red lips as she looked up at me. “Hey there, Bolt.”
I clenched my jaw, every muscle in my body tensing at the sight of her. This was my chance. My chance to get some answers, to figure out what the hell had happened that night. Jenny had been keeping herself on the low and out of sight.
“Jenny,” I snarled. “We need to talk.”
Her smile widened, like she’d been expecting this. “Oh? About what?”
“Don’t play fucking stupid,” I growled, stepping closer, cornering her against the wall. “What the hell happened that night? How did you end up in my bed?”
She batted her fake eyelashes, feigning innocence. “I thought we already went over this. You wanted to fuck, and I was more than happy to oblige. We had a good time and if you hadn’t got caught, we wouldn’t be havin’ this discussion.”
“Bullshit! You’re lyin’,” I snapped, my patience with her done. “I didn’t ask you to come to fuck and I never take sweet butts to my bed. I don’t remember anything after taking those pills for my headache. So, what the fuck did you do, Jenny?”
She shrugged, still playing the coy card. “Maybe you were just too drunk to remember, Bolt. It happens, but I assure you it didn’t affect your performance. You were so hot for me that I had to remind you to use protection.”
“Your one conniving bitch, because I sure as hell wasn’t hot for you and I wasn’t fucking drunk,” I hissed, stepping even closer, trapping her between me and the wall. “You slipped me somethin’, admit it. That’s the only explanation that makes sense and the more you fucking lie, the worse it’ll be for you.”
Jenny’s smile faltered, just for a second, and that was all I needed to know I was right. She had done something, and she knew it. But before I could push further, I heard a sound behind me.
“Bolt?”
My heart sank at the sound of Fiona’s soft voice. I turned, and there she was, standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with shock and hurt as she looked between me and Jenny.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I said, but the words felt empty, hollow, a fucking repeat of that night.
Her face went pale, the look of fresh betrayal gutting me. “I... I can’t believe this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And I came out to try to talk. I’m such a fool.”
“Fiona, wait—”
But she was already turning away, walking back into the clubhouse, her shoulders hunched in defeat.
I wanted to go after her, to explain, to make her see that this wasn’t what it looked like. But the damage was done. She’d seen me with Jenny, seen me cornering her like I was about to do something with her.
And now?
Now I’d pushed her even further away.
I turned back to Jenny, rage hotter than the summer sun inside me, but she just smiled, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She’d won this round, and she knew it.
“You set me up, bitch, and I’ll prove it. Then I’ll kick your ass out of here so hard they’ll have to surgically remove my boot from your scheming ass,” I snarled, spitting in the dirt by her feet before walking off, leaving her stunned, still leaning on the wall.
“DAMN HIM!” I muttered under my breath, the words escaping as a harsh whisper. My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides as I swerved away from the back door, the wood seeming to mock me with its familiarity. I took off in the opposite direction, heading toward the old swing that hung from the sturdy branch of an ancient oak tree.
It had become my sanctuary, a place of solace where I could escape from the world. The thought of going inside, of pretending to be normal while a storm raged inside me was unthinkable. The very idea of acting like nothing was bothering me, of painting on a smile and going through the motions was revolting.
For days, I had been donning this mask, this facade of normality. And it was taking a toll on me. Mentally, I felt drained, as if every ounce of my strength was being sucked into a black hole. Physically, I felt like a marionette with cut strings, barely able to keep myself upright. It was exhausting. That’s why I had decided to finally confront Bolt, to clear the air and lay my feelings bare.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
I wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me—the sight of him with her. Again . As much as I willed them not to come, the tears started to fall, hot and fast down my cheeks. With a heavy sigh, I plopped down on the swing, its familiar creak offering cold comfort. Pushing off with my feet, I began to swing back and forth, my gaze fixated on the inky darkness that stretched out before me.
The night was calm and peaceful—nothing like what was going on inside me. In all honesty, I loved it here. There was something magical about this spot—about the entire clubhouse grounds. Nestled out here in such a beautiful location.
A sudden burst of giggling broke through my solo pity party. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized there was a couple approaching. The darkness made it hard to discern their features, but I could make out their silhouettes—two figures moving closer, their laughter echoing around me. They stopped next to the big oak tree—the very tree that my swing was attached to.
The sound of their intimate whispers and soft moans reached my ears, making me cringe. Panic grew inside me as I tried to figure out how to slip away unnoticed. The last thing I wanted was to be caught eavesdropping on a private moment.
“You have the biggest cock,” the female voice spoke, words slurred with lust and desire. It was Tillie. A wave of embarrassment washed over me as I recognized her voice. “I love how it stretches my lips and chokes me.”
“Then get ready, because I’m gonna fuck your mouth hard.” My heart stopped at the deep, gravelly voice. Gearhead. This was the last thing I needed—a firsthand account of his sexual escapades.
Moving as silently as possible, I tried to make my escape. But in my haste, I misjudged the edge of the swing. My leg hit it with a thud, causing it to bang against the side of the tree.
“Who the fuck is out here?” Gearhead’s voice broke through the night, his tone sharp and menacing. The sound of his zipper being hastily pulled up followed. “Fiona?” he asked, his voice laced with surprise and guilt.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, feeling my face flush with embarrassment as he moved closer, Tillie trailing behind him like a shadow. “I was already out here on the swing when you two started...”
Gearhead looked taken aback, clearly embarrassed and at a loss for words. Tillie, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. “Sorry Fiona,” she said, her voice casually dismissive. “Gearhead likes this spot, and we didn’t bother to check if we were alone.”
“Tillie, hush,” Gearhead admonished, but his warning fell on deaf ears.
“It’s fine. I’m going to head in and leave you two alone and Gearhead, the answer is no,” I said, my voice shaking as I turned on my heel and hurried away. The brief encounter had only served to shatter my faith in men even further. Just half an hour ago, Gearhead had asked me out and my dad was more than happy about it. And now this.
“Fiona wait,” Gearhead called after me, his voice loud in the quiet night. But his plea only spurred me on. What the hell is wrong with men?
I pulled open the clubhouse door and rushed inside, only to collide with a solid wall. A pair of familiar hands steadied me, preventing my fall. “Fiona,” Bolt’s voice rang out, causing me to jerk away from his touch. Without sparing him a glance, I hurried up the stairs and into the safety of my room.
Bolt didn’t waste any time following me. He stepped into the room just as I was catching my breath, his jaw set in a firm line, eyes blazing with frustration and anger. He closed the door behind him with a soft but deliberate click that sounded more like a trap than anything else.
“Fiona,” he said, his voice soft but filled with undisguised need. “We need to talk. Now.”
“Bolt, I...” I started, not knowing what to say or how to explain my feelings. But before I could gather my thoughts and form coherent sentences, he crossed the room in a few strides, standing right in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze steady and unyielding.
“Can you please just hear me out?” he demanded, his voice taut with restrained emotion.
I lifted my chin, meeting his intense gaze head-on. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“Don’t we?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing in challenge. “Because last I checked I thought we had somethin’.”
“ Had something is right,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. But even to my own ears, it was clear that my words were laced with hurt and disappointment.
“We have somethin’ special, Fiona. That hasn’t changed,” he said, his voice rising just a notch. “Fiona, I don’t know what I can do to prove I didn’t fuck around on you. You promised not to run away when things got tough. But the second somethin’ doesn’t go the way you expect, you push me away.”
I felt the anger rising in my chest. This wasn’t just some minor problem. “Finding you in bed with someone else isn’t a small problem,” I argued, matching his intensity with my own. “You cheated on me, Bolt.”
“I didn’t cheat on you!” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, his gaze locked onto mine. “You think it’s easy for me? Standin’ here, feeling like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, you’ll never believe me.”
I couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into my voice. “This isn’t easy for you? Try finding the man you care about in bed with a naked woman draped over him and a used condom on the floor. Plus, didn’t I just see you pressing that same woman against the building?”
His eyes flashed with frustration. “I was tryin’ to get her to admit she drugged me, and you only want to believe the worst. One stupid setup from a sweet butt who’s tryin’ to come between us, and you’re willing to believe her over me?”
“It’s not about believing her!” I said, my voice was shaking. “It’s about... about everything. I’m coming out of a horrible marriage, Bolt. I’ve been hurt, used, and beaten down. And sometimes, when things start feeling... too good, it scares me and for good reason.”
“Fiona, I’m not him,” he said, his voice softening for a moment, but the frustration was still there, simmering in his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you like he did. I swear I didn’t fuck around on you. Just try to see what’s goin’ on here.”
I clenched my fists, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. “I am trying, Bolt. I’m trying, but it’s not that easy to just forget what I saw. You men around here have these women here for your pleasure and convenience, and that makes it hard to trust you. Hell, Gearhead just asked me out and not five minutes later he’s getting a blow job from Tillie.”
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Fuck Gearhead and the sweet butts don’t mean shit to me. I’m not asking you to forget, Fiona. But I am asking you to stop treatin’ me like I’m the one who’s going to hurt you. Do you have any idea what it’s like, knowing that the woman I... care so much about doesn’t trust me?”
The word “care” hung in the air between us, heavy with all the things we weren’t saying. I could feel my own walls cracking, the hurt in his voice chipping away at the defenses I’d built so carefully. But my own fear, my own insecurities, were still there, clinging to me like shadows.
“I don’t know how to forget,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Every time I get close, every time I start to believe, something pulls me back.”
“Well, maybe you need to figure that out,” he said, his voice tight. “Because I can’t keep standing here, waitin’ for you to decide if I’m worth the risk.”
The hurt in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and I almost gave in. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I just... I don’t know how to do this. How to let go of what happened.”
He let out a long breath, his gaze softening as he looked at me. “Fiona, it took me a lot to let you in and then you refuse to even listen to me, to believe in me.”
I swallowed hard as he walked out the door. He wasn’t asking for much, just a chance. “I’ll try,” I said to the empty room, the words shaky but real. “I’ll try, Bolt.”