Chapter Eight
Cleo stood at the top of the stairs, staring down.
Quite a few members passed, their heavy boots slamming on the wood floor.
Their steps were rushed, and when she heard shouting and a large crash, she tightened her hold over her flowers.
Maybe I should’ve just let it go. When she saw Ace pass by the opening, she jumped back.
She walked down the hall toward her room when a door opened and Cypher walked out, zipping up his jeans.
Cleo pressed her back to the wall, allowing him and his date to pass by. She dropped her gaze to the floor when the woman adjusted her top.
“What the hell is going on?” Cypher asked.
The house was old with thin walls. Cypher’s bedroom was above the game room, and she had no doubt he’d heard the chaos happening below. But he didn’t have all the details. And she wasn’t going to offer up any.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Cleo didn’t make it a habit of lying to any of the members, but she could put this into a convoluted perceptive. He was asking what was happening now. With her being upstairs, she had no way of knowing. Technically not a lie.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask anything further.
She drew in a breath and walked to the end of the hall.
She had a corner room with a window. It was prime real estate in the clubhouse.
She put her flowers on her dresser, readjusting a few that had come out of place.
Not perfect but still beautiful. She needed to add more water, though.
Her phone pinged, and she glanced down at the screen, smiling instantly. She had a different relationship with all the members of the club. This one was more special than most.
Ghost: What the fuck did you do? It sounds like a riot downstairs. On the roof, come check it out.
Cleo tucked her phone in her pocket and walked over to his room two doors down. The door was closed but she walked in past his bed and to the open window. While she loved her room and thought of it as one of the nicest on the second floor, Ghost had her beat with access to the porch roof.
“Hey!” She carefully climbed out and scooted on her butt down a foot. She’d hung out on his roof several times, but it always took a few minutes to get comfortable. One wrong move and she could slide right off. Though she knew Ghost would never let that happen.
He didn’t offer any greeting as she sat beside him except offering a bottle of amber colored liquor. Bourbon. She’d had a taste and wasn’t a fan, but it didn’t stop her from taking the bottle and sucking down a mouthful.
Her nose pinched, and she closed her eyes, feeling a tremble flutter through her body and giving in to the shudder. Her lips twisted. It was awful. She handed it back to him, and Ghost lifted the bottle.
“Happy Birthday.”
She stroked the beads on her wrist and smiled. “Thanks again for the bracelets. I love them.”
Ghost gave a curt nod and took another sip.
“So what happened?” He pointed to the front yard. It was filled with cars, and without any real light it was difficult to see. But she made out the two figures walking down the driveway, stumbling on the gravel.
“Well” —She licked her lips— “Someone must’ve moved my flowers for the party. I found them in the game room, and when I was leaving two girls grabbed some from the vase. Three to be exact. I asked them to give them back. And I was nice, Ghost.”
Ghost laughed, offering her the bottle. “Well yeah, ’cause do you even know how to be mean?”
She stared at the bottle, hesitating. She’d probably regret it in the morning, but she took it anyway. If this was the only celebration she’d get, then she’d take full advantage.
She took a long swig. This time it went down smoother. “Anyway, they wouldn’t give them back, so I asked Wraith if he could help me.”
“Oh fuck.” Ghost laughed, shaking his head. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
Ghost grabbed the bottle, waving his hand toward the front of the house. “I watched those two bitches run out like their asses were on fire.”
Cleo clamped her lips, concealing her smile.
“Then what happened?”
Cleo shrugged. “I don’t know. He told me to come upstairs. I think there was a fight, though.”
Ghost lips twitched. “Over you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Cleo jumped from the sudden loud banging coming from below. She slid slightly, but Ghost shot out his arm in front of her. He leaned forward. From her view she couldn’t make out what was happening.
“Lucky to fucking be alive, asshole.” Cleo didn’t recognize the voice, but seconds later two guys were thrown from the porch to the ground, one slamming his head into the bumper of a pickup truck.
Cleo squinted and leaned toward Ghost. The two men on the ground were being helped up by two other guys and a woman.
“You know them?” Ghost asked.
Again, it was hard to see in the dark, but when the two guys were pulled up to stand, she got a clear view of their faces. They had been the guys who suggested she fight. She slowly inched back and remained silent, hoping to keep that part of the story to herself. But Ghost wasn’t having it.
“What?”
Cleo cleared her throat. “Everyone thought it was funny that the girls wouldn’t give my flowers back, and those two” —She pointed to the guys being carried to a car— “suggested we physically fight for the flowers.”
Ghost’s jaw squared, and his face lost all traces of humor. He slowly turned in the direction of the group. She had no idea what was going through his mind, but she knew it wasn’t good. She tapped his arm, gaining his attention.
“What do you think happened to them?”
Ghost snorted. “Wraith beat the shit out of them.”
She gasped. “You think Wraith did that?”
He tightened his brows. “I know Wraith did that.”
Really? For me? She peeked over at the car again. They had gotten one guy in the car but seemed to be struggling with the other’s limp body.
Ghost nudged her knee, handing her the bourbon. “You’ve had a busy week causing chaos in the club.”
She fisted the bottle, and heat rose from her chest to her cheeks. That’s an understatement. However, she didn’t agree entirely.
“I should’ve told you guys about the campers, but” —She drew in a breath— “Aside from not telling anyone where I was going, what’s so wrong with wanting to hang out with Reyna, play some poker, and possibly go on a date?”
“Date?” Ghost raised his brows. “He’s a client of Reyna’s who took an interest in you. For guys like that, you only serve one purpose, on your back and on your knees. I don’t give a shit what Reyna told you. He was looking at you like you were a whore. How are you not offended?”
Cleo nibbled on her bottom lip, staring off into the woods surrounding the clubhouse.
Maybe Rogue was right. Her thinking was off, and her brain wasn’t wired the same as others.
But was it so wrong to feel a little appreciative that someone found her attractive?
Maybe it was, and she should’ve been offended.
She wasn’t though. It was probably due to being so awkward and oblivious.
Self-worth could have played a part. There was too much to dissect. She was a therapist’s dream client.
“Cleo,” Ghost snapped.
She shrugged, clasping her hands, resting her arms on her knees, and looking over the darkened yard. It was quiet. Too quiet.
“You’re fucking better than that.”
The corner of her mouth curled, and her eyes welled.
It wasn’t so much what he said but who he was mimicking.
Knox would have said the same thing. He would have gone into full big brother protective mode had he been around to hear the conversation.
But he wasn’t. And he’d never be. Knox was gone, leaving her on her own to fare for herself.
I just don’t know how to do it. Cleo had spent a lifetime following orders.
Even to this day there was someone else who dictated her schedule, corrected her mistakes.
Cleo sighed, mulling over Ghost’s statement.
“Am I?” she mumbled.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Cleo licked her lips and angled her head. “Am I better than this? Uneducated, socially awkward, and I can barely take care of myself. I have no life experience worth mentioning and—” She clamped her lips shut.
“And what?”
“I’m invisible.”
He knitted his brows. “No, you’re not.”
“It’s the superpower everyone thinks they want. But in reality, it’s kind of torture.” Her eyes welled. “No one sees me, not really. Only Knox, and now he’s gone, so…”
She felt his hand wrap over her calf, and she jerked her head.
“I fucking see you, okay?”
Cleo snorted. “You see Knox when you look at me. You all do. I’m an obligation he left behind that you all honor because you loved him. It really has nothing to do with me.”
“That ain’t true, Cleo.”
Yes, it is.
Cleo turned her head, staring over at Ghost. “Even if you’re right and that guy Evan just wanted me for sex? He had plenty of beautiful women to choose from. And he picked me.” Cleo smiled, not feeling any joy in the statement. “No one ever picks me, Ghost. I’ve never been anyone’s first choice.”
There was a long stretch of silence. She’d made it awkward opening up. It had completely shifted the vibe of celebrating her birthday on the roof. Cleo was prepared to leave when Ghost turned to her.
“There’s hundreds of people downstairs partying. Almost half of them are my brothers.” Ghost pointed at her. “And you’re the only one I picked to come hang out on the roof.”
A tear slipped down her cheek and she sniffled. She’d never been so happy to be proven wrong, and his statement did just that. She smiled and sucked in a breath.
Ghost narrowed his gaze. “But I’m kicking your ass off if you start crying.”
Cleo ducked her head, slyly wiped under her eyes, and chuckled. It wasn’t much of a birthday, sitting on a roof and drinking. But at least she was in good company.
“Let’s get high.”
She lifted her brow, watching him pull out a joint.
Why not?
****