Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
STEVIE
“I am sure that this will pass soon,” I say quietly into the phone, faking that I have a migraine.
Silly I know, but after what happened last night, going into work was the last thing I wanted to do. There was no way that I could smile and pretend to be happy in front of guests when my heart was cracked open.
“Rest up, and keep me updated, okay.”
“Sure.” We hang up, and I snuggle back down into the sofa.
I pull my soft blanket over my head, leaving my face exposed so I can see the TV. The first Transformers movie is playing, but even the funny Sam Witwicky cannot make me feel better.
My heart broke all the way home. I did not even make it to my room— I camped out on my sofa and cried. His words echo in my head, and seeing her touch him still makes me sick to my stomach. Even now, wrapped up in my blanket, the ache refuses to fade.
I wish I could quiet my mind and escape the pain, but it won't stop.
I thought he was different, but clearly, I was wrong.
Lesson learned.
My life used to be simple and happy, but now I'm stuck on an emotional roller-coaster that I want to get off of. Heartbreak sucks, and I don't want to feel this anymore.
Reaching for my Cheetos, I snack on them, simply because I need to eat something. I do not think my stomach is up for anything else right now, and I also need to shower. I stink.
When I came home, I kicked off my boots, grabbed some snacks, and curled up in the exact same place I am in now. I have not moved.
The crunch of the chips echoes in my head, making me wince. The headache I have is painful enough that I should take pain pills, but not enough to make me move to get them.
God, I suck.
My life sucks.
Everything sucks.
Thinking of Crash, fresh tears fill my eyes, making Prime go all watery on the TV screen. I am not only hurt, but I am disappointed in myself for falling for what he was feeding me.
After my last two boyfriends cheated, I saw the signs but did nothing, and I swore that I would be different the next time. But he freaking fooled me— all sweet talking, and touches— he knew. Hell, he is a freaking biker after all, and they are known for not being monogamous.
Well, Valarie-skanky-butt can have him. She is welcome to his kind of bull crap, because I do not want it.
Angrily swiping tears away with my blanket, I focus on the movie. I want explosions, screaming, and machines being ripped in half to take my mind off what I want to do to Crash and Val.
Maybe I could scratch his bike. I scoff. No, I can’t do that. That is not me.
Maybe it should be. A voice in my head makes itself known.
No. I am not a vindictive person; I just want to live a simple, happy, healthy life and clearly being with Logan is not that.
A sob slips free at the realization that I have lost what I have always wanted: a man who I crushed on and thought owned my heart for years, which is pathetic, really. Hell, look how quickly I gave that man my virginity.
“Oh, hell no.” A thought zaps into my head.
He freaking played on my crush to get what he wanted. Was this thing between us just some game? A joke that he and Val concocted to make a fool out of me?
They looked cozy at the race; he didn’t move her way from him.
When she told me they slept together, she sounded convincing and she knew about his tattoos.
Yet, he sounded genuine when he told me that he had not touched her.
Then there’s the way he spoke to me last night— he sounded pissed— angry that I saw them together.
There is no way that this was something he wanted.
I sit up, my back straight, and the blanket falls to my waist.
“That fucking biker prick, he played me.”
My chest feels like it is not getting enough oxygen into my lungs, so I push to my feet, needing to get out onto the balcony to get some fresh air.
Securing the blanket around my body, I move toward the sunlight, which hurts my eyes, but I keep moving toward it anyway. Clearly, I am a glutton for punishment.
Once the sliding door is unlocked, I step out into the morning sun, the heat already building, which will be unbearable by midday. Closing my eyes, I tilt my face to the sun, seeking some natural vitamin D, and some fresh air.
My body becomes hot, and my clothes restricting.
I drop the blanket, and remove my jeans and plaid shirt, leaving me in just my white T-shirt and pink panties. I do not have neighbors on either side of me, but I am too fucking lost in my head to care right now.
A part of me feels silly to be feeling like this.
After all, it is not like Crash and I went out for months or years.
Some would say that I am overreacting and maybe I am, but I thought I knew him.
Clearly, being with the club has changed him, and not for the better.
The man who spoke to me last night was not the Logan I know.
He was cold and angry.
I feel foolish, angry, and disappointed in what I allowed to happen. That is all that keeps going around my head.
My phone beeps from inside, so I go to fetch it and bring it back outside. Sitting on the balcony with some fresh air is helping to clear my head. Being locked up in the condo will not help— it will make my thoughts fester and then I know that I will start to see things that are not there.
It is how my brain works sometimes.
I get a message on my phone from Alex, and I sigh, not really wanting to read what he has to say, but the sadist in me clicks on his name.
Alex: Logan won last night. By a fucking mile. Your boy did good. It is not what it seems. Hang in there, Bumblebee.
Oscar: Your boy did good, won pretty money. Sorry you had to miss it.
I don’t reply to either of them, but I click on the IG app and scroll through the profiles of friends who I know are still in the street racing world.
There are tons of photos from last night of the cars, all modified and looking sweet with awesome paint jobs. I smile seeing friends hanging out, posing for silly photos, before my heart skips a beat.
There is a photo of Crash leaning against his car, ankles crossed, with one arm dangling loosely at his side. The other hand is on the back of his neck, while he looks down. The temporary lights that have been put up for the race behind him, illuminate him.
Without thinking, I click to save the photo, tears springing to my eyes seeing how handsome he is, and yet, he is no longer mine. If he ever was in the first place.
I stare at the photo that I just saved, and it makes my heart ache, seeing him look so unfiltered, like he has no care in the world.
I guess in that moment, he doesn’t. Logan used to be so focused when he was racing, not even Val was allowed to mess with his head. He knows how dangerous racing is; there are no rules when it comes to street racing. It is finish however you can.
Many times I had to stand by and watch Logan almost get pushed into another car, or flip when he hit a sand bank, but he was that good of a driver, that he was always able to avoid crashing.
It makes me wonder how he got his road name.
A smile slips across my face thinking of him and the club, but then it drops at seeing a photo of him and Val. He is talking to his brothers from the club, and she is standing close but it doesn’t look like he is paying her any attention, given the sour look on her face.
A video clip is next, which shows the end of the race. Turning the volume up, the sound of cheers and music can be heard. Crash climbs out of his car, his brothers greeting him, all smiling brightly, like a proud family they surround him, with hugs and slaps on backs.
Alex, Carlos, and Oscar are there to celebrate with him along with Alex’s new girlfriend. She kisses Crash on the cheek, he nods, and then she goes back to Alex. I have met her once and she seems really sweet.
Valarie moves to him, trying to kiss him. My heart freezes in my chest waiting to see what he does next.
Biting my thumbnail, I frown when I see Crash stepping away from her, which causes her hands to fall back at her sides. He looks angry at her and she looks pissed, but also embarrassed. Crash says something to her, and it does not look good, before he steps away from her and rejoins his brothers.
Surely, he would want a kiss from his girlfriend after he won the race— it is what they used to do. Hell, they would go and have very loud sex, which I hated, so I left because I never wanted to listen to that.
Alex’s words spin in my head: It is not what it seems. Hang in there, Bumblebee.
What did he mean? It is not what it seems. Fudge. My head hurts.
Are they together or not? Does this have something to do with the crew who tried to hurt me, and apparently beat up Val? Is this a game to her, and she needs Crash to help her crew out?
I know that the Rugged Skulls MC are not into the dark side of the law, but they are not squeaky clean, either. They do what needs to be done; I have heard the rumors.
Is Crash hurting me for my own protection? He did say that the club would handle the people who tried to run me off the road, rather than my cousin. Hell.
I sit on one of the loungers and bury my head in my hands. So many scenarios run through my head. So many reasons why Crash would do this. Why couldn’t he let me in, talk to me, and tell me what they have planned, to save me from this freaking pain?
Club business staying inside the club is a thing to keep the members safe, and thanks to TV shows and books, I get how a club works, but he could have given me a heads up. This pain could have been avoided if that is what is going on.
Or, I am just searching for ways to forgive him.
Maybe.
I need to sleep; my body feels heavy, and my head foggy. Reaching across the floor, I pull my blanket over me and curl up, letting the sounds around me soothe me into a slumber.