Chapter 4
PD
Will wasn’t okay, but what the hell could I do?
I missed him, everything about him.
Fuck, I missed shit that had never even happened, stuff I’d made up in my head and wanted but never got a chance to have with him.
But mostly, I missed his scent in our house.
I missed hearing him move around in his room.
I missed the way he’d bitch about everything and nothing, then wait for me to agree.
I just needed him in my life.
I’d been getting to the Ink Well late nearly every day and leaving early, and everyone there was getting pissed off at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit.
I was the boss, and normally, I didn’t pull rank, but I had to check on Will.
For a week, I’d stopped by the clubhouse once in the morning and once at night.
The second I’d realized Will hadn’t taken his meds with him when he’d dumped our house for the clubhouse, I’d brought them, and instead of a thank-you, I’d gotten silence.
I wouldn’t lie, no one knew how to work me up—in all possible ways—quite as much as Will.
It drove me around the fucking bend. If he did come down to the bar, he would sit and drink, back facing me if he could manage it, and totally fucking ignore my presence.
He shouldn’t be drinking on his meds, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with me so I could bring it up.
Yeah, it was bullshit.
At first, I’d been worried when he’d left, and sure, a little hurt, but I was beyond that now and starting to get pissed off.
He might have a brain injury that had changed some parts of him, but this was the same bullshit that he used to pull when we were fighting about something—as rare as that had been.
And it had always fucking driven me nuts.
He goddamned well knew that.
I preferred punching problems out to ignoring them, but he was deep into treating me like dog shit he’d stepped in.
The worst part? I still wasn’t really sure why. I couldn’t lock down what he was so furious about. I knew he was pissed off that he’d been blocked out of the torture of that Demon asshole, but it felt like him leaving was about more.
This was a nightmare and I had to end it. How could I make him come home?
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I hopped off the motorcycle, and I was so tired that I almost forgot to set the kickstand. I was spending too much time at the club trying to get Will to acknowledge my presence and not sleeping enough.
Yeah, this was all horseshit.
I’d left work early yet again. For what?
I pushed open the glass pharmacy door to stomp inside the local store where Will got all his meds.
I dragged myself up to the counter in my riding boots, but Amanda stared me down.
She was in her mid-forties, as far as I could tell, with her steel-streaked brown hair chopped off in an undercut and the top part teased up in spikes.
Under her white lab coat she always wore some sort of political shirt, and today’s was left over from the fight to legalize weed.
She had the hard jaw of someone who had put up with too many assholes in her day.
“Hey, drug wench!” I said, grinning. “Give me the good stuff! Now! I demand service!”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You here to be your boyfriend’s pill collector?”
The way she said boyfriend made my heart clench. My face flushed. The irritation that had been simmering inside me all week shifted to a dull anger, but I wasn’t a total asshole. I wasn’t mad at her. I flashed her my teeth. “You know it! Hand over the goods.”
“He’s got a hell of a guy looking out for him.
” She checked her computer screen, tapping away, then blew out a long breath.
“That’ll be six hundred and seventy-two dollars and fifteen cents.
Look, every time we do this dance, I tell you the generics are significantly fucking cheaper.
” She rested her elbows on the counter and glared at me while I slid my card through the reader and hissed out an annoyed sound under my breath at the hit to my bank account.
“Yeah, well, the doc said the name brands are better.”
“The doc ain’t paying for them.” She glowered. “The doc is a fuckin’ psycho.”
“He gets the best,” I said, jutting my chin. “Will isn’t getting some knockoff full of sawdust.”
She hung her head. “They work just as well for most things. Don’t be that way.
You should at least try, and if they don’t work as well, then you’ll know.
It’s the difference between spending this much and spending maybe a hundred total.
” She raised her eyebrows at me, and I stubbornly shook my head.
“Fuck that. If it was okay, then the doc would say it was okay.”
She sighed and held up her hands in defeat.
I liked that she kept trying. It was good to have a hobby.
“You could buy a house with what you save,” she snarked.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I finally said with a small smile, and she gave me a triumphant grin, but we both knew we’d just go through this next month because I was always going to get Will what he needed. Exactly what he needed. Because he was mine.
My blood began to boil. Even if the dickhead was hiding out at the clubhouse—make that make sense, when he was also pissed off at King and Undertaker—and wasn’t speaking to me, he would be my top priority.
“Motherfucker,” I snarled under my breath and tugged down the brim of my bowler hat to block the sun on my way out the door.
By the time I arrived at the clubhouse it was past dinnertime.
I was hungry and beyond furious, since I’d spent the whole drive from the pharmacy going over the night Will had walked his happy ass out of my life.
Part of me wanted to ask him if he would go somewhere to work this out over a meal—the rest of me wanted to shake him and just tell him he was coming the fuck home.
The idea of kissing his ass to get him to come back where he belonged rubbed me the wrong way—well, at least, if it was metaphorical.
Hell, if I thought actually doing it would work, I would be on my knees in a heartbeat.
But he hadn’t shown any signs of remembering our kiss.
Fuck, he should just be at our house, and that was fucking final.
I hopped off my bike and grabbed the meds out of the saddle bag, then strolled in the front door.
It had been painted blue and rehung by someone who was probably in trouble with King—it wasn’t nice enough to be a pro job.
Inside, Dallas was sitting at the shiny wooden bar glaring at a file he was flipping through, and I recognized his I’m fucking mad at King but won’t do anything about it face, so I left that alone.
I was busy enough with Will, thanks.
Josh stood behind the bar scrolling through his phone, so I went over and slapped the bar in front of him.
“I’m a club member. You better get me a beer right now!
” I didn’t necessarily want one, but he looked comfortable.
Maybe he needed his feathers ruffled. I swatted at his shoulder playfully, but he just stepped out of reach.
“That is not how you get service around here.” He didn’t even bother to glance up.
“Luckily, I don’t need you to do anything. How about you tell me where Will is?”
Josh cocked an eyebrow and looked bored.
I knocked on the bar again, but that got me nothing.
Dallas glanced at me, then frowned at Josh. “He’s upstairs in his room. He’s been there most of the day.”
“His room?” I snarled. “No, that isn’t his room.”
Josh finally looked my way with interest.
Dallas raised his eyebrows at me. “Well, he’s been staying in it. What else am I supposed to call it?”
Anger dug through my guts. That was fucking fair, so instead of making Dallas pissed off with more bikers today, I trudged up the steps. I knew which room had been sitting empty, so when I got there, I hammered on the door.
There was a grumble from the other side, then, “What?”
“Open this fucking door.” I sounded mean, but fighting was fine with me, so whatever.
“Or what?”
I saw red. Without waiting for an answer, I turned the knob. It didn’t budge. I gave the door a solid kick that rattled its hinges, and there was a laugh from inside.
“I can keep going?” I knocked until my knuckles hurt.
“You’ll be paying for it if you do.”
I gave the door another solid kick and the wood splintered on the bottom panel.
“Fuck.” Will opened the door, and he looked like hell—eyes bloodshot and shoulders stooped—so I figured he’d probably been missing some of the pills he hadn’t refilled. I held up the bag, and he snatched it with wide eyes. The idiot. As if I wouldn’t remember?
“You been going to physical therapy?” I forced my attention to the right of his face because I couldn’t stand to see the way he was looking at me like a fucking bug.
“What do you care?” He spun around to go deeper into the room. With a snort, he tried to shut the door in my face, but I jammed my shoulder against it. “You don’t think I can do anything on my own, so why should I bother going?”
Incensed, I shoved the whole way into the room, but then Will surprised me by pushing me back out. The pill bag went flying in the ruckus, and I heard some of them scatter on the floor.
“Shit, you want to do this in the fucking hallway?”
He shrugged and turned to pick up the bag, then tossed the meds that were still in their bottles toward his bed. “Do what? You’re just one of the brothers in the club, right? And no one wants me to be part of the club.”
“You’re fucking staying here!” I slapped the wall beside the door to prove my point. “See? Clubhouse.”
“Out of pity,” he hissed.
Shocked, I took a step back. “It ain’t—”
“It is,” he snapped, and I sighed.
“Everyone worries about you.” My hands balled into fists.
“How is that not fucking pity?” He smacked up the rim of my hat, and I ignored the way he baited me.
“Come home.”
He blinked, then his bottom lip jutted with his obstinate fucking attitude, and I wanted to put my hand through a wall.
“I’m taking care of myself just fine.” He stared at me like I was the one being irrational. “I don’t need you to do it. Without me there, you can bring guys home to fuck.”
I licked my dry lips. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing while you’re gone?”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need you to babysit me.” His voice was rough.
“I just refilled your pills for you.” I scowled at him. “And you managed to fucking spill them already.”
“Yeah, but I could’ve done it myself.” He puffed out his cheeks. I could see his frustration building, getting ready to pop off into an explosion. He could join the fucking party.
I wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. “You didn’t.”
“I don’t want you for this!” He shoved me, and I wasn’t ready for it. I stumbled back against the wall on the other side of the hallway. The impact hurt just enough to leave me shaking and ready to have a real fight.
“What do you want me for, then?”
Will’s eyes widened, and then he snarled.
Part of me wanted to throw down with him like we used to when we’d get really pissed off.
It was never serious, we weren’t aiming to kill, but we’d occasionally get into a scuffle.
We would keep going until one of us tapped out or blood was drawn by accident, then hug and make up.
I hesitated because I didn’t want to hurt him.
That was enough time for him to wind up and land a solid blow to my left cheek. The pain was a shock, and I was so surprised that I landed on my ass.
“Fucker!” I shouted and punched the floor.
He flipped me the middle finger, right in my face.
Rage pelted through me as I slapped his hand aside and sprang to my feet. But I hesitated. There was no way I could plant a fist anywhere on him. What if I rebroke something?
He growled when I didn’t do anything back, stormed into his room, and punched the window. I winced as the glass cracked, and he hit it a couple more times until it shattered outward and blood dripped from his knuckles. His shoulders heaved, and I couldn’t help looking down the line of his back.
Heat twisted in my gut and I sucked in a breath through my teeth.
“What the fuck, Rook?” I asked.
He swung around with an awful expression on his face. “I just want my old life back.”
Cradling my cheeks in my hands, I studied him for a few seconds. “We all do.”
“Then why do you keep pretending we’re only friends?”
I froze and my mind went blank, like a TV when the picture cuts out. Just nothing. I had no answers for him. He got up in my face and shoved me again. I grabbed his wrist as blood trickled from the knuckles on his right hand.
“Fuck! What are you doing? Let me help you.”
He shook his head and tugged out of my grip. “I can take care of it! Fuck off!”
“Fucking fine! Call Grant,” I roared at him. I made it to the stairs before I turned and pointed at him. “I’ve only ever tried to do right by you.”
“Sure you have. Go to hell,” he snapped, then slammed the bedroom door.
I didn’t meet anyone’s eye as I fled outside, a fucking coward. I had to do something, but if I went back in there, all we would do was go in circles. I needed a fucking plan, but what was I after?
Right now, I needed him home. That was step one. I could worry about everything else later. He was going to be back in our house soon—or else.
I wasn’t sure what the else might be, but I knew it might half kill both of us and it was probably best to avoid it. I was done playing around.