Chapter One
Two Years Later
“You want another one?” Skyla asks me as she holds up her cup.
I probably shouldn’t. My lips are already numb.
Still, I nod my head. What does it even matter anyway? At least, that’s how life feels these days.
My heart pangs when I think of why I’m here.
It’s my birthday today. If Mom were here, I would have woken up to my favorite blueberry pancakes in bed with an extra side of bacon.
We would have had a morning at the spa getting our nails and hair done before she took me out shopping for a new outfit.
I would have ended the night at the clubhouse, celebrating nineteen years.
Tears fill my eyes as I think about her.
It’s been two years since I’ve had my birthday tradition.
Two years of pain and agony that never seems to fade.
They say time heals all wounds, but that’s not true.
The grief of losing my mom hasn’t lessened since she has been gone.
It doesn’t help that all my father does is wallow in his own grief.
He is so stricken by the loss of her that he doesn’t even know I exist.
I think that’s been the hardest part of this. I lost my mom, which was tragic, but I also lost my dad, with him sitting right next to me. Two years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to sneak out of the house.
Today? I walked out the front door with him sitting on the couch, drinking another glass of bourbon. He didn’t ask me where I was going. He didn’t even remember my birthday.
I used to want a love like my parents’, but I don’t think I want that anymore.
I don’t ever want someone to have the power to break me into so many pieces that I forget about the other people in my life.
I never want to have to tell my child that they don’t matter anymore because the one person I love is gone.
No one deserves that. Especially not the daughter who worshipped him. She’s long gone now, replaced by the girl I’ve become. The one barely holding on.
“Here you go. Jeremy has party favors, so I grabbed one for you.” Skyla holds out the cup and a pill.
I don’t even hesitate. I take both, popping the pill in my mouth before I chug the nasty beer she brought me.
She smiles at me as she grabs the cup, tossing it to the side. Then she moves in closer and starts dancing with me.
I let her, liking the feel against my body. At least when I’m out doing shit like this, I don’t feel so hollow. The pain drifts away as does my mind, numbing me to everything going on around me.
If only my dad could see me now. The little girl he taught to be tough as nails and always observant of her surroundings, getting drunk and high at a party where she knows a total of maybe three people.
It’s so dangerous it’s not even funny, but I don’t even care.
I almost wish someone would finally end my misery. Maybe then all of it will stop.
I want it all to stop.
Skyla leans into me, pressing my body to hers.
The sensation feels amazing as the ecstasy kicks in.
When she presses her lips to mine, I follow her lead, letting her shove her tongue down my throat.
It’s not sexual. Not in the way the guys around us think as they cheer us on.
No, it’s the drugs making us want to seek that connection.
That stimulation of skin-to-skin contact.
“Fun’s over. Let’s go, Harlee.”
His voice has a shiver running down my spine. Pulling away from Skyla, I turn to him, wishing he would take her place. With him, it would definitely be sexual. All sexual.
“Bullet, what are you doing here?” I am attempting to sound seductive, but my words are slurring.
I’ve had way too much to drink.
“Coming to get you. Let’s go,” he barks at me, those green eyes disappointed.
I hate how that makes me feel. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me, but I don’t want to feel either.
I shake my head. “I’m not ready to go. You can stay and have fun, or you can leave. I’m staying.”
I turn to grab Skyla and pull her back into my arms, but Bullet stops me. He turns me back to him as I stumble into his chest.
I look up at him, marveling at how pretty his smoky green eyes look in the dimness of this house party.
I want to kiss him.
He doesn’t give me a chance to, though. Instead, he leans down, picking me up over his shoulder and muscles his way through the crowd. Not a single person stops him, but I don’t blame them.
All the people here are trust fund babies or losers from the local high school. None of them are dumb enough to mess with a Lotus member, and Bullet? Yeah, he has his vest on, showing he is a full-fledged member.
I miss the days when his patch read Prospect. Those days I might have had a chance. Not anymore. He has gone from my biggest crush to the only person who knows I’m alive most days. I both hate and love that.
“Put me down,” I growl at him.
He doesn’t listen. He carries me all the way out to his bike, setting me down on my feet only when we are standing next to it. He puts on the helmet that I know he bought especially for me before he climbs on.
“Harlee, don’t test me. Get your ass on the bike.”
In that moment, I can see how tired he looks. That’s the only reason I do as he asks and climb on the back of his bike.
Truth is, I live for these moments. The ones where he shows up because I’m acting out. It gives me a little thrill. It never lasts long, though.
I sit behind him on the bike, my hands roaming his chest. With the effects of the ecstasy in my system, even the wind feels good against my skin.
It’s not a long ride home, but I enjoy it while I can.
After all, life can change in a second.
Seeing Harlee so fucked up is killing me. Gone is the sweet sixteen-year-old who had a bright future ahead of her. In her place is this shell of a woman who I don’t think even cares about what happens to her.
I know she is smarter than the way she is acting. Taking drugs and drinking? This isn’t the Harlee I once knew. This is the girl who was left in the wake of tragedy.
Her hands roam my chest as she rides behind me. I don’t bother to stop her. At least if they are moving, I know she hasn’t passed out yet. It’s fucked up, but it’s the reality I now live.
When I pull up to her house, I pray that Honk comes out and hands me my ass for bringing her home like this. I would love for him to beat my ass for being with his little girl right now, but he doesn’t, and he won’t. He is every bit as messed up as his daughter is.
Losing Eleanor has been a hit to everyone.
She was a staple at the clubhouse, and without her presence, you can feel the change.
The brothers have mourned her and moved on.
The sweetbutts have figured shit out without her guidance.
The other old ladies have stepped up and done what they can to fill the hole she left.
This family isn’t healing, though. They are wallowing. These days, Honk almost never makes it to the clubhouse. He spends most of his time on his couch drinking. He doesn’t come out for charity runs or parties at the clubhouse. The only time he leaves is when his bottle is empty.
If it were only him, I might be willing to let him kill himself. Lord knows I have no idea what it feels like to lose the love of your life. It’s not just him, though.
He has this beautiful daughter who is dying inside as well. It’s like she cannot heal because he refuses to.
Helping Harlee off the bike, I look at her. She is lost. Depressed. She’s using drugs and alcohol to replace the pain instead of facing it.
It’s been two years, and I know that once the liquor and high wears off, she will be in as much pain as the day we told her that her mother was gone.
“Harlee, why do we keep doing this?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “I’m living my life, Jacob. Let me do it the way I want.”
I sigh, wrapping my arm around her as I walk up to the front door. As I suspected, it’s not even locked.
I open the door, ushering her in first, before I start to head down the hall. I shake my head as I look into the living room. Honk is passed out on the couch with a glass of brown liquor in his hand.
I ignore him for now, leading Harlee down the hall to her room. Once inside, I help her take off her shoes before I try to get her into bed. She fights me, though.
“No. I want to change. Why are you even here?” she asks as she pulls her shirt over her head.
I spin, averting my eyes as she moves around the room. “I’m making sure you are safe,” I tell her.
She snorts, but then I hear something crash, so I turn.
She’s on the floor, her breasts out, wearing only a small pair of panties. It’s an image that will be seared into my brain, but I push it away as I pull her to her feet. Quickly, I strip out of my vest and pull my shirt over my head. I have it over hers in record time before I help her into bed.
“Always the knight in shining armor. You don’t need to save me, Jacob. It’s too late for me,” she murmurs.
She’s wrong. I do need to save her because she is special. She deserves a good life. I want to make sure she gets it.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, I brush her hair out of her face. “I know shit has been tough, but it will get better. You can’t keep doing this.”
She blinks her eyes open at me. “No one cares but you. Why do you care?”
I can’t admit the truth. It’s against the rules of the club, and she doesn’t deserve anything less than everything.
So I don’t. Instead, I pull out the little wrapped box. She perks up as she sits up. Her eyes are still glazed and she’s not quite all here, but she deserves this.
“What is this?” she asks.
“Your birthday present,” I tell her. “Happy Birthday, Harlee.”
She smiles the first real smile I’ve seen in a while as she opens it. It’s nothing much. A little bracelet with some of her favorite charms on it.
She holds her wrist out to me. “Put it on me.”
I do as she asks. She holds it out as she looks at it.
“I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Get some sleep. I’ll come see you tomorrow,” I promise her.
I shouldn’t, but I will. Spending time with her has become one of my favorite ways to pass the time. Even if most of the time I’m trying to wrangle her in.
“Okay. See you tomorrow,” she whispers, holding her bracelet to her chest as she lets her eyes fall closed.
I lean over and press a kiss to her forehead before I grab my vest and head out of her room.
I slip my vest on as I step into the living room, cleaning up the empty bottles and removing the glass from Honk’s hand.
I want to wake him and ream his ass, but I won’t.
It wouldn’t do any good. At least right now, I can still keep an eye on Harlee.
If I anger him, he might do something stupid and take her away. I can’t have that.
So I do what I do best. I help them sweep it under the rug, but I know the time is coming when we will need to do something. If we keep letting things go the way they have been, we will be burying two more bodies six feet under right next to Eleanor.