Chapter 7 Willa
Willa
I’m just out of the shower when a knock comes at Dean’s door. It’s almost ten, and Dean still isn’t back from wherever he went. I’m learning this isn’t unusual for him. When he’s at the clubhouse, he avoids me. And when he leaves, he doesn’t tell me where he’s going or when he’ll be back.
He never comes to bed before I’m asleep, and although I feel his warmth join me at some point on most nights, he’s always gone by morning.
Unless he has a specific question about the ranch or his brother, he doesn’t make conversation. The distance is overwhelming. And with this constant tension lingering in the air, I’ve kept to myself, mostly hiding in his room at the clubhouse.
It’s not like anyone wants me here.
The members of the club look at me like I brought trouble to their doorstep.
The girls eye me like I’m competition.
No matter which way I turn, I’m unwanted, and I’ve accepted it. After all, feeling isolated isn’t that much different from how it’s been back home these past couple of years.
As Kincaid and I drifted apart, so did everything else.
What began as friendship slowly rotted under the pressure of our growing expectations.
Kincaid let Tate pull his strings while my father pulled mine.
At a certain point, I didn’t know what actions were mine and what were his, just that there was no escape.
We tried to make it work—to grow our friendship into something more for the sake of our families. But it was easier when we were younger. The older we got, the more we resented the situation we put ourselves in. I grew colder, and Kincaid grew distant.
We became different people.
Sometimes I wonder how we got to where we did. Other times, I wonder how it took so long for us to fall apart completely.
“Knock, knock,” a friendly voice says through the door when I still haven’t answered.
My eyebrows pinch as I run the towel through my wet hair. None of the clubhouse girls want me here, so I doubt it’s them. But the voice on the other side is gentle and feminine.
I toss my towel aside and make my way to the door, finding a smiling face when I swing it open. A tiny girl with blonde and purple hair leans against the doorframe. She has a bottle of tequila in one hand and rum in the other.
“Margaritas or pina coladas? Aimee refuses to choose, and Reagan and Tempe can’t drink since they’re pregnant, so it’s up to me and you.”
I have no idea who this girl is, why she’s here, or who she’s talking about.
My eyebrows pinch. “Have we met?”
“Oh, sorry.” She pops off the doorframe, smiling wider. “I’m Luna, Ghost’s old lady. I figured you might feel like getting out of this room tonight since Chaos has been a horrible host and refuses to introduce you to anyone.”
“Oh.” I try to process everything she just said. I met Ghost once in passing, but he barely told me his name, much less that he was in a relationship with someone who is clearly his opposite, given she’s chatty and he doesn’t seem to say much. “Okay. Well, I’m Willa.”
“I know.” She holds the bottles up. “So, tequila or rum?”
I’m actually more of a beer drinker, but I don’t want to be rude, so I choose the lesser of two evils. “Rum gives me a headache, so I’m definitely more of a margarita girl.”
“Margaritas it is. Are you almost done getting ready?”
I look down at my T-shirt and slippers. “I didn’t know I was supposed to be getting ready. I was about to get into bed.”
“Not tonight,” Luna cheers. “The girls all have babysitters, and no one is throwing up, which rarely happens anymore. We’re partying.”
Behind Luna, music filters down the hallway. It seems like the club parties every night. Music blasts at all hours. But Luna makes it sound like tonight’s gathering is something special, and she’s so friendly I feel bad turning her down.
“It’s casual, don’t worry. You can wear whatever you want.” Her gaze runs over me. “Pretty sure I’ve worn what you’re wearing on more than one occasion, although Ghost gets a little handsy when I skip the pants, if you know what I mean.”
She winks, and I’m pretty sure I know exactly what she means.
I laugh. “All right, sounds like fun. Give me ten minutes.”
“We’ll be on the back patio. See you soon, Willa.” Luna disappears down the hallway, and I close the door, feeling a little better than I did a moment ago.
I have friends back home, but these past few years, I’ve been isolating myself. Disappearing into my head and checking out. It feels good to be seen by someone. Luna’s welcome is the lifeline I didn’t know I needed.
I get dressed quickly and decide not to bother with my hair. It’s wavy from the shower, but not nearly as curly as it gets with the humidity in Texas. I tie the wet strands back in a braid and pat my cheeks to draw out the color. I’m not trying to impress anyone, but I’m presentable.
At least, that’s what I think until I turn the corner into the bar at the back of the clubhouse and realize I’m severely underdressed.
My oversized black T-shirt and shorts are far more casual than the tiny dresses the club girls are walking around in.
Their faces are perfectly painted, and each one is more beautiful than the last.
It’s no wonder Dean has barely looked at me since I’ve been here. Between these girls and the ones who dance at the strip club, I’m boring. Just like I was back in high school, standing in the corner wearing band T-shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots, while the prettiest girls hung all over him.
I knot my T-shirt, showing off a tease of my stomach. It’s nowhere near as sexy as the dresses the girls are wearing, but it tightens the fabric around my breasts, which is one of my curvier assets.
As I walk through the party, I draw the attention of a group of girls near the bar.
A blonde who seems to be the ringleader watches me.
She leans in to say something to Wren, and then they both turn their backs, shutting me out.
There are only a few faces I recognize. Venom watches from across the room, but Dean isn’t here, and neither is Soul.
Other than that, I don’t know any of their names.
I haven’t tried to get to know anyone in my time here, and Dean hasn’t bothered to introduce me.
I hurry to the patio, cutting through the mass of bodies.
“Willa! You made it.” Luna pops up when I step outside, handing me a margarita. “Everyone, this is Willa. Chaos’s…” She looks at me, letting the introduction hang as she waits for me to define our relationship.
“I’m his friend.”
“Right, Chaos’s friend.” Something about the way she says it sounds like she doesn’t believe me. “Willa, this is everyone.”
“I’d stand up, but that’s not happening,” a woman with honey-brown hair says from her chair; she’s rubbing her full belly. “I’m Tempe, Steel’s old lady.”
She tilts her head toward the window beside us, where a group of bikers is standing at the edge of the party inside. I assume the one with his eyes glued on Tempe is Steel, who I’ve yet to meet but know is the club’s president.
“Usually, I’d have come to say hello sooner,” Tempe continues. “But I haven’t been feeling well. Rough pregnancy. Only a couple of months left, so long as she stays put for that long.”
Tempe’s gaze darts to Steel again, worry etched on both their faces. My heart hurts for them—for what they must be going through if she’s worried she might have her baby early.
“I hope you feel better soon,” I say, hopefully.
“I’m sure I will.” She smiles, glancing at the blonde beside her, who is also rubbing her pregnant belly. “It’s all worth it, right?”
“It will be,” the blonde says with a big smile, glancing up at me. “I meant to come introduce myself as well, but it’s been so busy between the end of the school year and Bea’s extracurriculars. I’ve been running all over town. But it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Reagan, Legacy’s old lady.”
She glances at the biker standing next to Steel. Legacy winks when he catches Reagan watching him, and he’s by far the most clean-cut of the bikers I’ve seen here. His dirty blond hair is perfectly styled, and there’s not one tattoo on his arms.
“The guy next to Legacy with all the tattoos is Havoc, Aimee’s man,” Reagan adds, nodding at a woman with short brown hair sitting in their circle. “And Luna said you’ve met Ghost.”
All four guys stay on the other side of the glass, talking, giving the girls some space, while also clearly not wanting to let them out of sight.
“When I heard Dean joined a motorcycle club, this is not what I pictured.” I glance at the group of them. “They don’t make bikers that hot in Texas.”
The girls laugh, and Aimee scoots over on a bench, patting the seat beside her. “They don’t make them like that anywhere. Come sit.”
I recognize Aimee from the strip club the day I came to town. She was talking to Dean at the bar, and for a second, I thought he was dating her. As Havoc watches her through the window, I realize that’s clearly not the case.
“Thanks.” I drop down beside her, taking a sip of my margarita. It’s a heavy pour that makes my mouth pucker. “Wow, that’s strong.”
Aimee laughs. “Luna says we’re drinking for five to make up for Tempe and Reagan being pregnant, so she went heavy on the tequila.”
“She committed.” I choke down another sip, which already tastes better than the last as my thoughts start to swim. “It’s good though. Strawberry is my favorite.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Luna says, smiling. “So, you and Chaos… just friends, huh?”
“Right to the point? I’m not even one drink in.” I take a sip, and she laughs, waving me to continue. “Yes, we’re just friends, nothing more. Although friends might be a strong word at this point. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Not since the night I chose his brother.”
I probably shouldn’t have said that, but the tequila is loosening my tongue.
“What do you mean you chose his brother?” Aimee’s face pinches, and all four girls stare at me.
“Maybe that was the wrong word.”
“Or not.” Tempe’s eyebrow hitches.