Chapter 20 #2
“This again? I’m starting to get tired of that comparison. I’m not trying to boss you around. I’m not trying to act as your VP. I am asking you, where do you see us going? Tell me one good reason why we shouldn’t live together?” he replied. I sighed, hating seeing the pain I was causing him.
I hesitated. To the outside eye, it must’ve looked like I was stumped by the questions, when in reality I had far too many responses, ready to come flying out.
I’m afraid you’ll get tired of me.
I’m afraid you’ll see the real me.
I’m afraid you’ll decide you don’t want me, and I know I will never recover.
Words caught in my throat, too stymied by all the insecurities screaming to get out. Bash mistook my silence as something else.
“Nothing? You haven’t spent any time thinking about us, our future?” he said.
“Bash…” I managed to get his name out. My tongue felt heavy. I felt like my body was moving in slow motion. My heart was racing like it was trying to leave my chest and attach itself to him. Traitor.
“Don’t you think it’s just a bit fast?” I managed to squeak out, knowing it was a pitiful diversion.
“No, I don’t. You waited twenty-five years to have sex. Do I have to wait another twenty-five to get you to move in with me? Will it be fifty before we can get engaged? How long, Fiona? How long do you deem it acceptable before we can move forward with this relationship?”
“You don’t have to be crass,” I retorted, hating how the conversation had turned into something so wretched.
“You trust me with your body but not your heart,” he stated, daring me to argue back.
When I remained silent, he continued with a sigh.
“Listen to me, Fiona. I don’t care what anyone thinks.
What’s considered an appropriate amount of time.
This isn’t about that. It’s about how you feel.
” He paused, a heartbreaking look on his face as he stood up from the bed.
Stepping close to me, he cupped my chin, making sure I was looking into his eyes.
“I know how I feel. I thought we were on the same page, but clearly, we’re not.”
“Bash, no…” I choked out, but he silenced me with a stiff kiss.
“You want more time. I’ll give it to you.” He slipped past me and headed for the door. I wanted to stop him, but couldn’t think of what to say. I was paralyzed in that moment, feeling like my whole world was shifting, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“I’ll call you,” he said, his back to me, his voice sounding distant and cold.
Choking on all my fear and anxiety, I couldn’t get anything out of my mouth. I was frozen, watching the door shut behind him.
Long after he left, once the sounds of his boots stomping down the stairs were nothing more than a distant echo, I stood in the same spot.
The flash of the twirling joyful girl had morphed into an old woman, hidden in the shadows. Her voice, low and downcast, paled in comparison to the melodic glory from just moments before. Once again, she whispered inside of me.
Well, you were expecting something bad to happen. Looks like you got impatient and mucked everything up yourself before anyone else could.
Everything I had feared would happen seemed to be occurring. The other shoe was dropping. Something bad had happened. What I wasn’t ready to admit until then was that I was that something bad. My fears, so much stronger than my dreams, indeed manifested, and I was the one to deliver the final blow.
Bash
Over the past few weeks, I had watched as Fiona poured over the books I had given to her.
She was dutifully searching for evidence, working diligently to put together a case on behalf of the club.
I was proud of her and proud to have her by my side.
She had embraced the club life far better than I could have ever imagined.
Every Brother was under her spell, and she had most of the club wrapped around her finger.
Despite the fact that I was aware there was an issue with the books, and was actively watching Fiona work on them, I had blocked out the reality of what that actually meant. It wasn’t until all the evidence was splayed before me that I acknowledged the magnitude of the betrayal that had occurred.
When she presented her findings, I was furious.
I had not expected the clear, intentional drain on the club resources, hidden right under our noses.
Anger wasn’t the appropriate term for what I was feeling.
It didn’t feel like it held enough weight.
So many emotions were running through me as I mechanically drove us to Fiona’s apartment after the meeting.
Fury, fresh and burning, was running through me.
It felt like my skin was on fire, and the only treatment would be the blood of the person who betrayed us.
They had betrayed the Brotherhood on so many different levels, and we had let it happen for over a year.
Only someone close—someone we wouldn’t think to look at—could pull it off.
That made me suspicious of everyone, which hurt on an entirely new level.
My Brothers were supposed to be the people I could trust above everyone—trust above myself, at times.
It threw everything I knew off its axis.
I felt off-kilter, no longer tethered to the facts as I previously knew them.
I wasn’t some naive schoolgirl. I knew not every Brother was a saint.
Being an asshole was one thing, but a thief was another.
I felt like I had failed as VP, not noticing any signs of discontent to motivate that type of dissent.
A moment of annoyance passed through me when I realized we had to drive back to Fiona’s apartment instead of going straight home like I wanted to.
That was another frustration on my list; the house was ready to move into, but Fiona hadn’t said anything about it.
She barely kept anything there, despite my efforts to make sure she knew spaces were made for her, meant for her belongings.
I kept quiet, not wanting to take anything out on her, knowing I was transferring my frustrations at not knowing who the thief was onto something stupid, like stopping at her place.
Once there, though, watching her walk back and forth, debating which items to put into her bag for the weekend, that frustration hit me again. What are we waiting for? We spend every night together, talk every day. What is the point of having two places to live?
“Why don’t you just move in with me already?
” I remember asking, even though I knew that wasn’t the best way to go about it.
My ability to filter my words, to articulate how much I wanted her by my side, flew out the window at that moment.
I was tense and emotional, which seemed to limit my vocabulary.
She seemed completely perplexed by the question, taken off guard on such a level it only fueled my upset.
Was she not thinking about it like I was?
Did she not care as much as me? Why was I the only one thinking about the future?
I felt like I had laid myself bare to her, allowed her in, allowed myself to be vulnerable, and it felt like it was for nothing.
Fiona still didn’t trust me. She still didn’t believe in me, in us.
Someone like you rang through my head. For all her time spent worrying about what people think about her, she was quick to pass assumptions on to me.
A loud buzzing noise filled my head as she listed off how my history of fucking around meant I was the one who controlled the pace of the relationship.
It was unfair for the responsibility to be on me because I was more experienced than her. When it came to relationships—a serious relationship—this was new to both of us. We were supposed to figure it out together, as a team.
When we had fought after that file, she pointed out that I was treating her like she was a Brother, bossing her around.
That hit hard, and was a dynamic I definitely didn’t want between us.
The past few months, I had been working to show her, to collaborate, to communicate so I didn’t repeat that error.
I know the way I had asked her to move in was not the smoothest, but I stood by what I said. I tried to include her in as many aspects of my life as I could, in all the important decisions. The only aspect I left her out of was club business, and even that was getting harder.
Now that she had access to all the club books, she probably had an even better understanding of how the club ran than I did.
My slipup regarding Seph’s Trail earlier was a long time coming.
I had wanted to tell Fiona about it, to hear her ideas and get her opinion on things we could do to make the women and children more comfortable in the facility we were building.
I had imagined her working with Ma and Seph on the more personal details, and I knew it was something they would love as well.
I loved seeing her with the women in my life.
Charlie was thriving, and Ma and Seph adored Fee.
My only issue with it was that it meant they took up more of Fiona’s time, leaving less for me.
When she said she thought it was too soon, something hardened in me. I could see it for the thinly veiled protest it was. A way to hold parts of herself back, to protect herself. It angered me that she wouldn’t admit how she felt, and wouldn’t give all of herself to me.
“You want more time. I’ll give it to you,” I spat out, needing to leave the apartment, needing to walk away from her before I said something I couldn’t come back from.
I didn’t give her a chance to respond as I stumbled out of the apartment, hopping in my car and speeding away.
With each passing mile, the more upset and frustrated I got.