Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
Charlotte
That was a girlfriend thing, wasn’t it?
Shit. It was.
I can barely believe I sent the prospect out with a bunch of pills and strict instructions. It wasn’t something I’d planned.
I simply remembered his pinched expression when he pulled himself off me—reluctantly. How his face kept twisting with pain before quickly sobering, as his hand involuntarily braced against his torso.
God, I couldn’t get that out of my head.
Couldn’t get him out of it either.
I’m pacing my living room—in the middle of berating myself—when I finally force myself to stop dwelling on it.
Following through a brilliant idea swimming in my head, I make quick work of my clothes and head out—practically fleeing from my room. Desperate for some distraction.
The main hall will have enough stuff to take my mind off it, right? Enough people and chaos to drown him out.
I won’t still be thinking of Theo’s drugging kisses if I’m chatting with—say Misty.
My nipple won’t constantly feel the phantom brush of Theo’s fingers if I’m staring at Pearl and DeeDee’s boobs instead. Right?
Oh God, why did my brain go there?
Has he touched them like that? Been with them?
The thought hits sharp and ugly—a paralyzing shiver of jealousy slicing through me before I can stop it.
What the hell is wrong with me?
But it’s too late to back out and not see them. I’m already out the door, my feet mechanically moving me toward the hall.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Laughter drifts from the bar area, light and easy. I almost hope they don’t notice me—but of course, Misty looks up first.
“Charlotte!” Her face lights up as she waves me over, and the stupidly polite part of me just obeys.
I walk in.
Ol’ Ladies are scattered around, kids running wild near the open backyard door. It’s calm. Domestic. Almost normal.
The club girls are in casual clothes—T-shirts, shorts. Daytime mode.
“Hey,” I say, slipping into their circle.
“How are you feeling?” Pearl asks gently. “Did you eat?”
Instantly, Isabelle flashes through my mind, and my chest tightens.
I didn’t even get to properly talk to her before she left. She’d only come back for a few days last week to help Healer, since he was short staffed at the clinic. Then she was gone again.
“Yeah, I ate,” I nod quickly, awkwardly pointing toward my room. “In my…”
Smooth, Charlotte.
“You want juice?” Misty asks, already pouring me a glass.
I nod, offering a small smile. “Thanks.”
DeeDee doesn’t say anything. She just watches me. Quiet. Observant. Not hostile but not exactly warm either.
Guilt settles heavy in my gut. Because I’ve been avoiding them ever since I came back. All of them.
The only people I’ve really spent time with since I got back were Isabelle and Misty. Mostly because they shared a room and they were close.
Now I’m standing here, realizing just how obvious that probably is.
Chagrined, I find my gaze darting around the hall. Staring at the Ol’ Ladies whose attention I seem to have captured somehow.
“Did you wanna go hang out with them?” DeeDee finally opens her mouth. Her voice clipped, almost annoyed.
“What—no!” I blurt out. “I just… now that things have settled, it’s all a little awkward.”
“Why?” she asks, placing her elbow on the bar counter as she shrugs. “You used to hang out with us all the time before. What changed?”
“DeeDee,” Misty snaps at her. But the words are already out and hanging heavily between us.
“I didn’t, though,” I say curtly. “Not all the time. I hung out with Glory, didn’t I?” The moment her name slips out, it’s almost as if the temperature around us drops a few degrees.
I’ve heard brothers curse out her name. The Ol’ Ladies magnanimously claiming how they ‘always knew she was bad news.’
But never did I ever hear the club girls discussing one of their own. Granted, it’s been over two years. But I can see the second their expressions shift to something uncomfortable. Almost foul.
I guess they’ve managed to keep Glory’s name out of their mouths this whole time.
May the bitch’s soul—
“May her soul burn in hell,” Pearl sneers.
DeeDee lifts her glass of juice. “Hear, hear.”
Misty simply smirks, shaking her head.
A quiet laugh slips through me and this time, it doesn’t feel forced.
Pearl lifts her glass. “To Scar burning in hell, too. I hope his fucking dick falls off.”
“Cheers to that,” DeeDee mutters, clinking hers against Pearl’s.
Misty rolls her eyes but taps her glass against ours anyway. I follow suit, the soft clink oddly grounding.
Then Pearl’s eyes glint with mischief as she leans in slightly. “So,” she drawls, “did Ruin spend the night with you?”
My entire face goes up in flames. “I—”
Misty immediately smacks Pearl’s arm. “Stop it. That’s none of our business.”
I let out a breath, shoulders sagging—only to open my mouth and absolutely spoil the moment.
“I mean… one less brother for you, right? So it kind of is your business.”
Silence.
Oh God. Why did I say that?
All three of them stare at me.
DeeDee chokes—then turns away fast, coughing as juice nearly comes out of her nose. Pearl bites her lip, visibly holding back a grin.
Misty just stares at me. Baffled. “Charlotte,” she says carefully, “are you… jealous?”
I scoff too quickly. “No.”
“Uh-huh,” DeeDee mutters, still wiping her face.
Pearl finally loses it, a laugh bubbling out of her. “Oh my God, she is.”
“I’m not,” I insist, glaring at all of them.
Misty crosses her arms, smirking now. “Relax. No one’s stealing your man.”
“He’s not—” I stop, groaning. “He’s not mine. He’s single.”
“No, he isn’t,” DeeDee says sweetly.
Before I can argue again, she shrugs, tone turning more casual. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry.”
I should stay quiet. Curb this urge to ask— “About what?” Fuck.
Pearl tilts her head. “Ruin. Or any of us, really.”
“There was kind of an unspoken rule,” DeeDee adds. “No one approaches the Prez or the VP. And well, now he’s both. Sort of.”
There’s sadness lacing her tone, but she keeps her face impassive. I blink, forcing the thoughts of my brother away. “What do you mean?”
Misty sighs. “After a few times some of us approached Wolf or Ruin—and got rejected—we just… took it as a rule.” She adds, shrugging. “Plus, Ruin made it clear a long time ago. He doesn’t indulge in club girls. Ever.”
I go still. My brain scrambles—pulling up hazy, scattered memories. Years of watching him. Following him. Obsessing over every little thing. Every glance. Every movement. Every interaction.
Nothing shows up. Not a single memory of him with any of them.
My cheeks burn hotter. Out of everything I’d noticed about Theo back then… I missed that?
A strange knot in my chest loosens.
Relief floods me—sharp and immediate. And completely ridiculous.
I press my lips together, annoyed at myself for even feeling it. But it’s too late.
A small, traitorous smile tugs at my mouth anyway. Around me, the girls exchange knowing looks—then dissolve into soft giggles.
Fuck. I’m screwed, aren’t I?
??????
I find him in the gazebo.
The dark clouds of dusk are drowning the whole backyard in a somber light.
One sleeve of his t-shirt is scrunched up to his shoulder, a sharpie firmly clutched in the other hand. I can see the cloth stretching across his chest as he adjusts his position on the bench.
Frowning at whatever he drew over his bicep, he quickly starts sketching on the pad in his lap. His lips curve up, pausing to admire his work. Pulling my own soft smile out instantly.
“If I didn’t know any better,” I say, startling him slightly. “I’d say you were avoiding me.” A part of me is scared that I’m right.
It was hours ago that I ran into Torch, who told me that they’d been done with their ‘club business’ by noon. Yet, I couldn’t catch a single glimpse of Theo after.
And here I am, the sunless sky above us. All while Theo is seeking solitude and a sketch pad.
An uneasy feeling crawls up my spine.
He inadvertently discovered a part of me to burrow himself into. And now I crave him as much as I crave peace.
It’s not his presence, necessarily, that I’m wishing for. But simply him.
Staying in that place he carved out for himself in my heart.
“How could I ever avoid you, Charlotte,” he says softly, gaze scanning my face. “When you’re always right here with me.” He taps his chest, his cheeks reddening.
“Is that notebook filled with cheesy pick up lines?” I tilt my head, slowly climbing up the two steps of the gazebo.
“I don’t need pick up lines, my love,” he murmurs, setting down his pens and sketch pad to his side without taking his eyes off me. “All I need is truth.”
“Is that so?”
His face lifts up slowly as I near him. The sheer awe in his face is enough to undo me. Shattering all the walls I built around myself to keep this club out. To keep him out.
I swallow hard, stopping right between his widened legs. Then I shiver when his hands come up to rest on my waist.
“Truth, Charlotte,” he whispers, tugging me closer as his arms encircle me.
His eyes gleam under the soft light of the setting sun.
Reverent. So full of love. “The truth is that I held myself back for more than two years,” he says, brows twisting with pain.
“The guilt. The fear. The love that evolved. And now I can’t seem to stop my feelings from coming out.
So no, baby—I don’t need pick up lines to earn a place in your life.
I know I don’t deserve it. Which is why I’m sticking with the truth. ”
He grins weakly, lopsided. “Maybe you’ll eventually take pity on me someday.”
I scoff, but there’s no heat there.
My gaze drops to his bicep as I rest my hands on his shoulders. Vague swirls of black sharpie forming some shape I can’t identify.
But I freeze when I turn to look at his sketch pad. My frame locking with shock and wonder. Hands clenching.
There—amongst a tumultuous mess of flowers—is a wolf. Eyes closed, not with lack of life. But in a solemn prayer.
My eyes sting. I try to blink back the tears as the meaning settles in. Final. Brutal.