7. Chapter 7
June
I wake up to darkness gathering outside the window.
For a few seconds, I’m warm, comfortable, and blissfully unaware of where I am.
Then Striker breathes against the back of my neck.
Memory comes rushing in.
His mouth. His hands. His body over mine.
Every single thing.
Oh, God.
My face heats against the pillow.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
His voice is rough with sleep.
“I hate you.”
A low laugh rumbles against my back, and his arm tightens around my waist.
I reach blindly for my phone on the nightstand.
Nearly eight.
“Shit.”
I push myself upright.
Bad idea.
My entire body reminds me exactly what I spent the afternoon doing.
I go still.
Behind me, the mattress shifts.
“Not one word.”
“I didn’t say shit.”
I look over my shoulder.
Striker is propped against the pillows, hair a mess, bare chest on display, looking far too satisfied with life.
“You’re thinking it.”
“Thinking what?”
“That.”
His mouth curves.
Asshole.
“I have work.”
“Call in.”
“No.”
“Didn’t think you would.”
That takes some of the fight out of me.
I grab my clothes from the floor and start pulling them on.
Then I reach for my phone again and check my messages properly.
One from Eliana.
Sent while I was asleep.
I’m fine. Jamie still hasn’t come home. I’m at work.
Fine.
Her favorite word when she is anything but.
Striker pulls on his jeans, T-shirt, and cut.
“I’m taking you.”
I look at him.
“I assumed so. Unless you planned on making me walk.”
His mouth twitches.
Twenty minutes later, I’m on the back of his bike with my arms wrapped around his waist.
By the time we pull into Red Den, the parking lot is already filling.
Striker parks near the entrance and walks inside with me.
Eliana is behind the bar when we come in.
Her eyes land on me first, then slide to Striker.
Then back to me.
Her eyebrows climb.
I know that look.
“What?” I ask.
She glances at Striker again. “Who is that?”
Striker’s hand settles at my lower back.
Subtle as ever.
“This is Striker. He's with the Damned Sinners.”
Eliana looks at his cut.
“I figured that.”
“Enforcer,” he says.
Her gaze shifts slowly back to me.
“You?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve known you for years and I’ve never seen you show up to work with a man, and apparently you decided to start with the motorcycle club Enforcer.”
My face heats.
Striker looks far too pleased.
“Go away,” I tell him.
His gaze stays on mine another second before he bends and kisses my temple.
“I’ll be back.”
“I know.”
Then he leaves.
Eliana watches him walk out.
Slowly, she turns toward me.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
She stares.
I start tying on my apron.
“You’re being nosy.”
“You rode in here wrapped around a biker who looks like he could throw someone through a wall.”
“Probably.”
Her eyes widen.
I immediately regret that answer.
“Oh, my God.”
“Shut up.”
For half a second, she laughs.
A real laugh.
The relief hits harder than I expect.
Then the bar gets busy.
About an hour later, the front door opens and Eliana freezes beside me.
I don’t need to look.
I already know.
Jamie walks in.
His face looks worse than it did last night. One cheek is swollen, there’s bruising near his mouth, and he moves like every step reminds him exactly what happened in the parking lot.
Good.
The thought comes without guilt.
Eliana drops the towel in her hand and goes straight to him.
“Eliana.”
She doesn’t stop.
Jamie opens his arms and she folds herself into them.
Something ugly twists in my stomach.
Jamie looks over her shoulder.
Straight at me.
There is resentment there.
Then he bends his head and says something into Eliana’s ear.
I can’t hear it over the music.
Her body goes rigid.
She pulls back and looks at his face.
Then at me.
The expression on hers changes so fast I barely recognize it.
She comes toward me.
“What did you do?”
I stare at her.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Jamie stays where he is, watching.
“Eliana, what are you talking about?”
She points toward him.
“You got him beaten up.”
For a second, I honestly think I heard her wrong.
“What?”
“He said the biker attacked him because of you.”
My anger rises so quickly it almost makes me dizzy.
“Because of me?”
“You had no right.”
I laugh once, but there’s nothing funny in it.
“No right?”
“You could have talked to me.”
“I tried talking to you.”
“You went behind my back.”
“Jamie and his friends cornered me in the parking lot.”
She stops.
For half a second, something flickers across her face.
Then it disappears.
“What?”
“They waited for me after work. Three of them. They grabbed me.”
Her eyes move to my arm.
To the bruises.
I see the moment she understands.
I expect that to change something.
It doesn’t.
“Jamie said you were threatening him.”
I stare at her.
“Are you hearing yourself?”
“He said you came at him.”
“He put his hands on me.”
“He wouldn’t do that for no reason.”
That one lands.
Hard.
I go very still.
Eliana’s face changes, like she hears it too late.
“June, I didn’t mean…”
“Yes, you did.”
“No. I just mean there’s more to it.”
“There isn’t.”
“He said you’ve been trying to turn me against him.”
“I’ve been trying to get you away from a man who hits you.”
Her face goes pale.
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Afraid somebody might hear the truth?”
“Stop.”
“You have a black eye, Eliana.”
“I said stop.”
“And now he has you standing here blaming me because he and his idiot friends attacked me and picked the wrong man to do it in front of.”
Her eyes flash.
“You always do this.”
I blink.
“Do what?”
“Decide what’s best for me. Decide who I should be with. Decide what I should do.”
“Because I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Maybe because I’ve spent half my life doing exactly that.
Eliana’s eyes shine, but she keeps going.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“Jamie loves me.”
I look past her at him.
He is still watching us.
Loves her.
Right.
“Eliana.”
“He does.”
“He hits you.”
“He made a mistake.”
“He gave you a black eye.”
“I know what he did!”
The shout turns a few heads.
Neither of us cares.
Her breathing is uneven now.
“So why are you defending him?”
“Because you don’t know what it’s like.”
Something inside me twists.
“What exactly don’t I know?”
“To want something normal.”
I stare at her.
She wipes angrily at her face.
“A house. A husband. Kids someday. Someone who actually stays.”
My anger falters.
“Eliana…”
“Jamie is my chance at a real family, June. Why are you trying so hard to take that away from me?”
Everything inside me goes quiet.
The bar is still loud around us. Glasses clink. Someone laughs near the pool table. Music keeps playing.
But all I hear is that sentence.
A real family.
I look at the girl I shared bedrooms with. Food with. Clothes with. Every terrible foster placement and every good day we managed to steal between them.
My throat hurts.
“I thought I was your real family.”
Her face crumples.
“June, that’s not what I meant.”
“Sounded pretty clear.”
“No. I mean a different kind of family.”
“Yeah.”
I untie my apron because suddenly I need something to do with my hands.
She reaches for me.
I step back.
“June.”
“I need a minute.”
“Please.”
I look at Jamie.
He looks satisfied.
That almost makes me stay.
Almost.
Then I look back at Eliana.
My sister.
The person I would still walk through fire for even while she stands in front of me defending the man who hurt both of us.
“I’m not trying to take anything from you.”
My voice comes out quieter than I expect.
“I’m trying to keep him from taking you.”
She looks down.
I wait.
For what, I don’t know.
Maybe for her to choose me.
Maybe for her to finally see him.
She doesn’t.
So I turn and walk toward the back hallway before she can watch me cry.