Chapter Twenty #2
She might say it’s fine, but I know better. If she knew who it was, she’d never forgive me.
“Amber, don’t pretend like you're fine,” I chastise. “I hear it in your voice. You’re pissed.”
“I am, Eddie. But not because of that. I’m mad because you won’t talk to me about it.
You said no more lies. You swore to me we’d move on from this, and you’re still lying to my face.
You want to marry me, but I can’t get married on an altar of lies, Eddie.
That’s not the way I want a marriage to start. ”
She’s got a point, one that I feel like a sharp dagger.
Just come clean.
The sigh that escapes me feels like it’s dragging my soul out with it. I already know that telling her everything will destroy what we’re trying to rebuild. But if I don’t tell her something, there won’t be anything left to rebuild anyway, just a shaky foundation and loose boards.
“I was drunk,” I admit.
“I figured.”
“It only happened once. That night.”
“Okay,” she says. But I can feel her stiffen, even through the phone. Her voice is soft, but there’s anger simmering underneath it. “Who was it?”
“Nobody you know,” I lie. “Just a girl I met at a party. She meant nothing.”
“And that’s what you’ve been holding back?”
My answer comes out clipped and short. “Yup.”
“Shit, Eddie, that’s nothing.”
It’s not nothing. Not to me, and it definitely wouldn’t be to her if she knew the truth.
Guilt laced sweat crawls down my forehead, and I absentmindedly wipe it away.
The lie sits heavy in my gut, the heaviness dragging me down like I’m being tethered by chains made of regret.
The longer I keep the truth from her, the bigger the hole gets, and I’m afraid if I don’t come totally clean with her soon, that pit I’m digging will eventually become my grave.
“It doesn’t feel like nothing,” I whisper, the guilt clawing at my temples.
“But we were broken up. You just found out I cheated on you in Vegas, and after everything that was said, I don’t blame you for finding someone else to lay with that night.”
“Did you?”
She clears her throat uncomfortably. “No, but that doesn’t mean what you did was wrong. Is it fucked up? Slightly. Does it make me angry? Yeah, a little. But I’m not going to punish you for it, Eddie. You’re human. You made a mistake. Guys do stupid things.”
Really stupid things… like fucking your best friend the night we broke up.
“If you need forgiveness, I forgive you, Eddie.”
“Yeah, please don’t say that. Just pretend you’re okay with it, even if you’re not.”
She laughs softly, but there’s sadness interwoven with it. “What’s going on with Wesley? Did you bail him out?”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “I can’t find out anything until Monday. They won’t let me on the visitation list until the twenty-four-hour hold clears, and weekend hours are a joke. He’s stuck in there until next week.”
“Fuck, that sucks.”
I rub my hands together, wringing them like I can twist the guilt out of my skin. There’s so much I want to say, but every word feels like another brick in the wall between us.
“Eddie, it’s okay. Seriously. Please stop beating yourself up over it.
I forgive you. I still want to marry you.
I told you before, there’s nothing you can say that will make me call off this wedding.
This is just another bump for us. Marriages always start off rocky; we’re just working out some of the kinks before saying I do. ”
God, she sounds so sure. Her fucking positivity is like an emotional drain plug, and I’m drowning in a sea of guilt, my own bitter tears creating waves of crushing sorrow. If she knew the full truth, she’d drown and hate me forever.
“I like your positivity,” I answer, doing my best to keep my voice steady and without my wavering emotion.
“Well, someone has to be positive. You sure as hell aren’t.”
“I’m just scared, Amber. I don’t want to lose you.”
She’s falls silent. The silence lasts so long that for a moment, I fear the call has dropped, and my nerves take over.
“I promise I won’t leave you, Eddie. Have faith in me. Have faith in us.”
I close my eyes and press the phone tighter to my ear, like that will help me believe it.
Because I want to.
God, I want to.
But I’m still lying.
And I don’t know how much longer I can hold it in before the whole thing comes crashing down around me.
“I’m gonna go,” I whisper, unable to hide my emotion. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, baby,” she says cheerfully, even though she still sounds worried. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Amber. Always will.”
The phone clicks, but the shame still lingers, strangling my throat, suffocating me under a mountain of my own grief.
The truth is breathing down my neck. I can feel its pressure like a needle severing my spine.
I may have come partially clean, but I still feel dirty.
I could pray to a million preachers and beg to have my sins washed away, but no amount of holy water will cleanse this guilty conscience.
Not when I feel the ending of us looming in the distance.
I can feel it crawling… creeping… stalking me like I’m prey, ready to devour me whole.
And that shit terrifies me.
I just lost my best friend… I can’t lose my girl too.
Monday couldn’t come fast enough.
I haven’t stopped thinking about Wesley all weekend.
Work hasn’t been able to distract me. Sleeping?
What the hell is that? Hell, even food tastes like paper.
Everything just seems off now. It’s almost like there’s a stone wedged between my ribs that I can’t quite cough up.
Wesley’s my boy, and his absence is definitely felt.
I’ve got the money to bail him out, but something tells me he won’t let me.
Not this time. Not after how deep he spiraled.
Rich pulls up outside my house and honks his horn, so I grab my jacket to head out, but before I can make it off the porch, my dad steps into my path.
“You going to see Wesley?” he asks, already knowing the answer.
Rich gets out of the car and leans against the cherry-red exterior, arms crossed, watching everything play out.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, unsure of where this conversation is going. “I’m gonna see if I can bail him out.”
My dad squints at me, pinning me in place with that one good eye. The other is a foggy white mess, forever frozen in the wreckage of some forgotten feud.
“You think that’s a good idea?” he questions.
“Probably not.”
His jaw tightens. “The boy’s more trouble than he’s worth, Eddie. At least Rich is redeemable. Wesley’s always walking the edge of disaster.”
It sounds harsh, but I know it comes from love. My dad doesn’t hate Wesley. If anything, he sees him as a second son. That’s what makes it worse. He expects more from him. He sees Wesley’s potential and hates watching him burn it down.
“He’s a good guy, Dad,” I say. “You know he is. He works his ass off for you.”
“And now I’m down a worker because his dumbass got locked up,” he snaps. “And you’re about to throw money at a sinking ship.”
“I can’t just leave him in there.”
“Why not? It might do him some good. Let him sit in there for a while and let it really sink in. Maybe he’ll finally get his shit together like you and Rich.”
“Maybe,” I agree. “But he’s still my best friend. I’m not getting married without him standing next to me.”
Dad’s expression shifts. The worry shows through the cracks of age and withering features. “So wait for him to get out. Let things settle down between you and Amber and all the bullshit work itself out. Maybe Wesley will get out early for good behavior.”
Rich chuckles. “Good behavior? Have you met Wesley?”
We all laugh. Because it’s Wesley. Even locked up and covered in someone else’s blood, he still makes us laugh.
“Dad, you’re just as worried about him as I am.”
He rolls his eyes. “The cocksucker should’ve known better.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’ll tell him you called him a cocksucker. He’ll love it.”
My dad goes quiet for a moment. The wind cuts through the yard, and all you can hear are the creaks of the rusted wind chime he refuses to throw out, clamoring from his patio up the hill.
“Just be careful, Son,” he finally says. “I don’t want Wesley’s bad decisions spilling over into your future. You’ve got almost enough money saved for that property. I don’t want you wasting it on something you can’t fix.”
“I get that,” I say. “But if I don’t spend it on bail, I’m spending it on bikes.”
He blinks. “Bikes?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “I’m serious about starting a club.”
His head tilts like he didn’t quite hear me right. “A club?”
“Something’s been missing in my life, Dad. I’ve felt it for a while, but after riding your bike, after feeling the wind and the freedom it gave me… something clicked. It felt right. More right than anything I’ve felt in a long time.”
He narrows his eye at me skeptically.
“I want that feeling every day. A brotherhood. Something real. And not some shiny helmet, good-boy charity club, either. I want the real thing. I’ll rock that one percent patch with pride. I want people to know our name and know not to fuck with us.”
He just stares at me in stunned silence. You can see the disapproval shining in his good eye—the worry.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he growls.
“I don’t ride with those clubs, but I’ve been around long enough to know what they’re about.
You think they’re about loyalty and freedom, but they’re not.
They’re about power and control, the kind of control you only get by spilling blood and breaking the law.
Do you really think you can survive in that world knowing you’ll be putting Amber at risk? ”
Hearing that makes me pause. I never thought about how it would affect Amber and our future. She already hates motorcycles. She’d loathe them even more if she knew what I was planning.
“Amber will get with the program. And before you say another word, I can handle myself.”