Chapter Two
“Harlee…” someone murmurs, pushing on my shoulder.
Groaning, I try to roll away, making my tormentor laugh. My head throbs, and my mouth feels like cotton.
Jesus, how much did I drink last night? Did I really pass out before brushing my teeth?
The only reason I know I’m at home is because my bedding smells like me.
How the fuck did I get here, though?
As soon as the thought enters my mind, it leaves.
I don’t even have to question it. Once again, Bullet came to my rescue, even though I didn’t ask him to. Knowing him, he dragged me out of that party by my hair.
And knowing my luck, one of the assholes there took a video of it and posted it on the internet again.
Great. Just great.
I groan into my pillow. Just when I think my life couldn’t get any more embarrassing.
Not only am I the girl whose mom died, but the one who’s constantly dragged out of parties by a biker.
“Come on, Harlee. You need to get up or you’ll be late to class.”
Turning my head, I glare at him. “Why do you care?” I mumble.
“Because someone has to. Now come on.” He reaches out and brushes hair out of my face.
“I don’t want to,” I whine.
“Yeah, well, sometimes we have to do shit we don’t want to. Besides, you’re almost done. It’s finals week, and as long as you pass your classes, you’ll graduate,” he huffs.
“Ah, yes, I almost forgot that I need that stupid fucking piece of paper. As soon as it’s in my hands, I’m out of here and never looking back.”
Bullet doesn’t even try to hide his wince. For a split second, I feel bad, but then the feeling fades. He knows I’m leaving. Everyone does.
Well, my dad might not.
No, I’m almost certain he doesn’t know about my plans. Besides, it’s not like he cares.
The day my mom died, I lost my dad, too. It was like he forgot about me and lost himself in his grief. I don’t even remember the last time he was sober, let alone had a conversation with me.
And it fucking kills.
Nineteen and an orphan.
What makes it worse is he’s still physically alive. I still see him. We still live in the same house but never communicate. Some days I think it would be easier if he weren’t alive. At least then I could grieve them both without it hurting as much.
Everyone keeps telling me that with time, the pain will ease, but I don’t think that’s true. Not as long as he’s alive. I won’t heal. I won’t move on. That’s why I need to escape.
“As soon as graduation is over, I’m getting into my car and driving as far from here as possible.”
Pain flickers through Bullet’s eyes. Quickly, he tries to hide his reaction, and once again, I feel bad.
Before my mom died, I thought Bullet was the hot guy from the clubhouse. The one who was just a little bit older than me. Despite our age difference, and my father’s warnings, we became friends. Next thing I knew, he was my best friend, and I liked to think I was his as well.
I told him all my secrets and dreams. He told me about his family and the things he wanted in life. Our conversations came easy.
Then she died.
He held me when he told me she was in an accident, then again as I broke down when the doctors told us she was gone. He stood by me at the funeral and then held me back when I wanted to jump into the grave with her.
That one accident changed everything between us.
He went from my best friend to my keeper. It was like overnight, he became my parent. Dragging me home from parties, making sure I kept going to school. He forced me to eat when it was the last thing I wanted to do.
Everything changed, and I both love and hate him for it.
“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you, but until your taillights are fading away from me, I’m going to make sure you are taking care of yourself. Now get up.” He pushes himself off my bed and walks out of my room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling, and the tears begin to fall.
I miss her. God, do I miss her.
It’s in these moments when the alcohol and drugs fade that I remember that she will never come in and wake me up again. I will never hear her complain about my clothes on the floor or the way I would leave dishes in the sink.
She’s gone and never coming back. She missed my eighteenth birthday. For years, we had planned for her and dad to take me to get a tattoo on my birthday, but it never happened. My skin is still ink-free even though Midnight offered.
My chest aches as I think about the way he looked at me with sympathy.
The way all the brothers do. I’ll give them credit, they’ve tried to step in, in my parents’ absence, but it’s not the same.
Even when I’m with them, I feel alone. Even in a room full of people, I’m lonely. Dying slowly, and they don’t know.
Or maybe they do. It doesn’t change anything, though. Nothing is the way it should be.
I have to bite back a sob as I think about my impending graduation. Another thing she was supposed to be by my side during. Instead, I’ll do it alone and a year later than we planned. Still, I am going to do it.
She was supposed to help me pick out a college, buy everything to trick out my dorm. I was supposed to call her and tell her about the guy on campus who always smiles at me and then have her sit on the phone with me while I got ready for our first date.
None of it will happen, though.
We never got to experience my first date together. She will never go wedding dress shopping with me or be there for the birth of my babies. If I even want to have them. I used to, but now…
“Harlee, don’t make me come back up there!” Bullet yells from down the hall.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head.
If I didn’t know better, I would think he knows that I’m spiraling. Then again, maybe he does. He always seems to know when I need him. Even if I never want to admit it.
Everyone turns to look as I roll into the high school parking lot. As I come to a stop next to the front doors of the building, people begin to whisper.
“You would think they would be used to seeing us together by now,” Harlee murmurs as her body brushes against mine.
As soon as she gets off the bike, I want to tell her to get back on. I know it’s fucked up, but I like the way she feels against me. I like knowing she’s the only person who’s ever ridden with me.
She’s leaving, though. Or claims she is.
“Maybe they wouldn’t stare so much if you weren’t such a hellion,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes as she takes off her helmet. Like a fucking sucker, I can’t help but watch as her blonde hair tumbles down around her shoulders, shaking it out.
I clear my throat. “I’ll be back to pick you up.”
“I’ll find a ride.”
My jaw clenches, but I don’t fight her on it, even though I want to.
“Call me if you need me, and for the love of God, don’t start shit with anyone today, okay?”
With her helmet tucked under her arm, she turns and gives me her middle finger as she walks away.
What I wouldn’t do to lay her over my bike and spank her ass red.
I thought she was a fucking handful at sixteen, but that has nothing on her at nineteen. The girl is all fire and ice.
Woman. She’s a woman now, even though I try like fucking hell to ignore it.
Sighing, I turn my bike back on and head toward the clubhouse. I ignore the teeny boppers who wave as I pass.
No, thoughts of her roll through my mind instead.
Harlee used to be quick to smile and laugh. Now I don’t even remember the last time I saw her do either. Instead she’s on the quick track to an early grave. She doesn’t give a fuck about her mortality.
“No one loves me. No one would care if I were gone. Except you. You’d care, wouldn’t you, Jacob?” she slurs as she falls into her bed.
“That’s not true, Harlee. A lot of us would care. Your dad, the club, the girls.”
She scoffs. “Really? My dad? He doesn’t even remember I exist.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is, and you know it. No, the only one who would care would be you, but you’d be better off without me.”
“Don’t say shit like that, Harlee…” I warn.
As I pull into the clubhouse, the memory fades from one of her many drunken nights. She doesn’t even realize that she lets those walls down when she gets so wasted. I never bring it back up, but it is tucked in my mind.
Taking my helmet off, I head inside and drop it off in my room. Then I head into church. I’m the first to arrive and lean against the wall.
Exhaustion rolls through me, and I shut my eyes.
I’m fucking tired.
I thought late nights at the club were bad when I joined, but they have nothing on them now. Not only am I trying to keep up with my duties, but I also make sure the woman who haunts me keeps breathing. It’s like having two full-time jobs at once.
I must fall asleep because the next thing I know is I’m being woken up by Midnight.
Blinking, I look around the table and see my brothers looking at me with concern.
“What are you doing in here? Have you been waiting on us?” Reaper asks.
“Are you okay?” Midnight asks.
“No.” The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
“What’s up?” Wrath asks, frowning.
I know I should walk it back and tell them that everything is fine. That I’m just tired, but I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.
“What’s going on, Bullet? Is it your family?” Trigger asks.
I shake my head. “My family is fine. It’s Harlee.”
The guys around me share a look before turning back to me.
“What did she do now?” Reaper asks, sounding resigned.
“Please don’t tell us she’s pregnant,” Colt mutters.
I shoot him a dirty look. “Don’t even say shit like that.”
“Bullet…” Reaper says, bringing my attention back to him.
“I can’t keep taking care of her and making sure she stays alive. Something needs to change. I had to drag her ass to school again today to make sure she does her finals so she can graduate.”
“Shit, that’s coming up, isn’t it?” Colt says.
“Yeah, and she claims that when she graduates, she’s leaving and never coming back.”
“She can’t do that. It would kill Honk,” Chap says.
I scoff, not bothering to hide the bitterness from my voice. “Trust me, Honk spends so much time at the bottom of a fucking bottle he wouldn’t notice. She doesn’t think…” I stop myself from oversharing.
I might be willing to do a lot of things in her honor, but I won’t break her trust. They don’t need to know that she doesn’t think she’s loved.
Reaper runs his hand over his face. “I was afraid of this.”
“Honk is a fucking mess. It’s honestly impressive he hasn’t drank himself to death yet,” Trigger says.
“Dude, don’t even put that kind of shit out there,” Wrath tells him, shaking his head.
Reaper raises his hand, cutting them off before they can start to bicker.
“We should have stepped in a long time ago. This has gone on long enough. We thought we were doing the right thing by letting him grieve, but clearly we were wrong,” Reaper tells us.
“So what do we do?” Midnight asks.
“He needs to get clean. Either here or some rehab,” I tell them.
“You can force someone to sober up, but you can’t force them to stay clean. They have to want it,” Colt says.
“Do you think it would work if we told him if he doesn’t, he will lose Harlee?” Wrath asks, looking at me.
I shrug. “I don’t know. You guys have known him longer than I have.”
“Yeah, but you know Harlee,” Colt points out.
“That doesn’t mean shit.”
Reaper drums his fingers on the arm of his chair as he stares at me. “Are you prepared to lose her?”
The thought of losing her slices me deep. I hate the thought of her leaving, but I’ve already resigned myself to the fact it’s going to happen. If she has her way, nothing will keep her here.
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes. As long as she’s happy, then that’s all that matters.”
Even if it kills me.
“All right, then let’s see what we can do,” Reaper says.
“I’ll start pulling up options and the financials,” Trigger tells him.
Leaning back in my chair, I tune out.
I hope I did the right thing by coming to them.