Chapter 21
HOLLISTER
I haven’t been home after the shit show. Diego insisted it wasn’t good for me to be alone. Getting punched in the head. My black eye, nearly swollen shut. Cut and throbbing. Losing Dom and Babs. Em is hurt.
We were finally getting allowed to see him in the early hours of this morning. It took them a while to get him stabilized before they’d even let family back. Massi slept there. We left when their parents rushed in crying.
I rode bitch on Diego’s bike. Neither of us said anything during the ride to his loft. He warned me not to be an asshole to Isabella, who has been staying with him. Luckily, we got in too early for her to be awake on a Sunday morning.
But how I treated her before, outing him and all that bullshit, still makes me feel like a guilty bastard.
I apologized to both of them several times.
Now that I have lost someone important to me, I understand the panic he had that night.
I see why he kicked me out and tried to make things right with her.
For now, I’m stuck in his guest bedroom, listening to them moving around in his living room or kitchen. I don’t remember falling asleep. More like collapsing onto his bed and staring at the ceiling in complete despair until sleep took over me.
I blame it on the Hawaiian scent he’s pumped into this place. He explained what it was once. It has a strange, calming effect. Probably why the guy is so relaxed all the time.
I’m still in the same clothes from the Hamptons.
Dried blood on my shirt. My knuckles throb from where they landed on Dom.
I don’t know exactly where I hit him, but I got him good from the sound of his hearty oomph.
If I recall, the guys let me land that one.
Then again, they let Dom land his first.
The cut above my eye split open again sometime during the night, smearing rust-colored lines across the pillowcases. I don’t bother to wipe them away. Let Diego bitch about it later. At worst, I’ll buy him new ones.
I press the heels of my palms into my forehead, rubbing the headache throbbing there.
The pain from my eye beats opposite the pain radiating from my skull.
I’m going to need some aspirin if I’m going to be worth anything today.
I sit up slowly, every muscle aches like Dom wrestled me to the ground and beat the shit out of me.
He would have if the guys hadn’t held him back. If security hadn’t charged into the waiting room seconds after Babs left, ready to break up a fight that had already ended. We were warned that if it happened again, we’d be thrown out and banned from the campus.
With only Diego and me there, we mumbled some excuses and then sank into our chairs. Not talking again until Massi got back. Then we all sat in silence. Processing everything is weighing us down.
Emilio’s hurt.
Barbara’s gone.
Dom wants to kill me.
I stare at the wall across from me and replay it all. Over and over. The moment Dom spewed accusations at her. The snarl that came with it. The complete and utter disrespect for her as his mother and a beautiful woman overall. The look on his face when he realized that she and I were together.
The way his eyes stayed on me. He knew. Punched me for it, and I let him. I deserved it.
A part of me didn’t want to fight. Not him. Not for me. I deserved everything he was bringing. Everything he wanted to do flashed over this face. He was out for blood, and I gave it to him. Only wiped it with my fingers when it was about to drip into my eye.
Yet I did a terrible job defending us. Didn’t have my shit together to defend her properly. That bothers me. I should have done more and said more. I didn’t know how to put it into words. Didn’t know what to say.
She wasn’t supposed to mean this much to me, but she does. Why can’t he see her as the remarkable woman she is? There’s so much pain between them. I’m a lot of things in this world, but I’ve never raised my voice to my mom. Nor would I want to. Not to mention my dad would kick my ass.
But in the Barrett house, that’s the norm from what I’ve seen from him to her. Pain and hurt run on both sides. One yelling awful shit. The other is quiet and alone.
A soft knock.
The door cracks open, and Diego slips in.
He’s clean-shaven, hair damp still, wearing fresh clothes, ready to conquer the day. All I want to do is conquer the pain radiating from my eye to my entire skull. From there, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.
“Massi called,” he says quietly, leaning against the door frame. The strong scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts in. “Em’s out of surgery. Recovering.”
My throat clenches. Every breath tastes like relief and dread. Relief that my reckless brother-in-arms survived. Dread for the price paid and for the next one I have to face.
Diego folds his hands over his chest. “He’s concussed and a bunch of other shit, but Mas said he’ll recover.”
I remember Em’s battered body in that bed. It’s the worst nightmare for any rider. Made worse when it’s your best friend, wild and free, lying too still and fucking pale in a goddamn hospital bed.
“Thank God, he’ll be okay.”
“Yeah.”
Diego’s gaze softens.
“He’s reckless as hell. But I love that guy.”
“Yeah,” I nod, the single movement enough.
We all love Em.
He doesn’t have an enemy in this world. The closest is Dom, and even then, it’s just bickering at best. But Dom? Yeah, I’m enemy number one in his book.
“Anyway, Massi’s crashing, so I’m going to head up there.” He shifts, his boots squeak against the hardwood floor as he makes to leave. “You coming with?”
I look at my shirt, wrinkled, bloody, and completely ruined.
“I need a shower and some clothes. I don’t want Em to see me like this. Massi too, for that matter. Yesterday was . . .” I trail off when a wave of guilt hits me.
Everything about last night was a complete shitshow. The focus should have been on Em. Instead, it was Babs and me.
“Bullshit.”
I lock eyes with him. Met with a dark scowl. I don’t answer. I don’t need to.
“Why did you go after her?’ he mutters, more from curiosity rather than blame. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s very attractive.”
The latter is said as an afterthought, almost understanding why I’d be enthralled. Yet he has no idea how much she consumes my mind.
“In the beginning?”
“There’s a beginning?
Diego moves into the room and quietly closes the door. I'm not sure if Isabella is here, and he doesn’t want her to hear what's going on or what his deal is.
“Yeah, I guess.”
That night in the lounge seems far away. Much farther than actual time.
“Dom made her cry.”
His eyebrows raise, but he remains quiet. Waiting for me to continue.
“It was at this event at my club. Dom’s dad is a real piece of shit.”
“So I’ve gathered,” he supplies under his breath, before moving to lean against the dresser.
“He shows up with this chick who looks to be our age. Babs got upset, and honestly, I think she was looking for some support from Dom. And you know him, he doesn’t take anyone’s side but his own.
He was cruel to her, said some bullshit, and she started to cry.
Ran off. I bitched him out and went after her. ”
He lets out a whistle. A slow release of disapproval.
“It wasn’t like that, Diego. I felt sorry for her. You know how Dom can be. She’s already raw from a shitty marriage and an ugly divorce, then flaunts this chick? Dom was a prick about it. Like, did you hear the guy last night? Who talks to their mom that way?”
“Trust me, I heard.” His hand clenches and unclenches.
Anger enters his words, taking my side in this.
“I don’t know half the shit like you do, but my dad would knock my teeth in if I ever even raised my voice at my mom, much less curse her out in public.
Fuck, I’d been dead in the morgue of that place. ”
“See!”
I’m too excited with my reply, and it sends a sharp pain through my skull, down to the core of my brain. My hand rises to my temple, rubbing it while he stares down at me.
“But that still doesn’t justify messing around with his mom, bro.”
I exhale, heavy and hard. The support I thought I had dries up.
Flashes of Babs in all the ways I pursue her run through my mind. I duck my head, knowing I could have pulled back and didn’t. A myriad of reasons why I didn’t. None that Diego needs to know about. How I feel about her is really between me and her. Even that is complicated.
“I haven’t seen you look like that before.”
My head snaps up. The quick movement sends a blur to my vision for a couple of seconds.
“What do you mean?”
He huffs, and I can’t figure out why.
“You’re a player, Holls. Different girls every weekend. Sometimes, different girls every night. Even two sometimes. Fuck, dude. Can you blame Dom?”
Shit.
I bristle and stand. The room tilts for a minute, and he pushes off the dresser as if to steady me. But it’s not me who needs to be right, it’s he who needs to get himself in check.
Who the fuck is he to judge me? To judge us? He doesn’t know what Barbara and I had. What we shared. It’s not just some fuck like those other women.
“You’re one to talk. You went after your professor. If we’re talking taboo shit, then you’re just as guilty.”
The words are rancid. Shifting the blame to him rather than taking it. I almost want to claw them back. Almost. He shakes his head, frowning at me.
“That’s a low fucking blow, especially coming from you.”
“You basically called me a manwhore.”
He steps into my face, inches from it. Brave for being the lightest of all of us, especially considering his bad back.
But he knows I’d never fight him. Especially now.
I’m already one friend down, two if I count Em.
I can’t afford not to have Diego on my side, or at least still my friend if he’s taking Dom’s side in all this.
“You know it’s true. You treat women like garbage. And it goes without saying that sisters and moms are off limits.”
He squares up.
Doesn’t look away.