Chapter 27Evan
Chapter Twenty-Seven
EVAN
Cain: Can’t. Got shit going on.
That’s it.
That’s all he said.
He’s back to Cain, the asshole. Not the Cain that was in my bed last night. And that hurts. And I hate that it hurts.
“Something’s going on, Hades baby,” I murmur while scratching his head.
We’re currently lying in bed. After the chaos that has consumed my life, I felt like having a lazy day. Everyone has their own way of relaxing, but I find the best way is to binge eat with an assortment of drinks, curl up in bed with a good book, have music or a show playing in the background, and never move. If I do move, it’s to take a bath. I basically become a potato—a very satisfied potato.
I was secretly hoping that Cain would want to come over and be a potato with me. My ideal dream date is a day in bed doing all of the above with dessert after. The kind that comes in the form of a massive cock.
I guess I thought things had changed after our talk yesterday and him staying the night last night. I can’t say that I’m not disappointed that it feels like we’re back to square one. Even through the hurt, I think I just kind of… expected it.
I deserve answers, though. If he got freaked and decided that he’s changed his mind about letting things play out, then fine. I’d rather it end now before it goes too far and before I won’t even want to do business with him because I won’t be able to stand to look at his asshole face. But I deserve to know what the hell happened today.
Hades perks up as I throw the covers off of me. “I’m going over there, and he’s going to tell me what in the hell is going on.” I throw on a pair of leggings and change out of my old t-shirt for a bra and low-cut tank top. Sliding on my vans, I head out. “Be good, baby,” I tell Hades, blowing a kiss in his direction.
I decide to drive over to the clubhouse. I could walk through the connecting trails, but I don’t need the extra time to stew in my anger. I’m pissed-off enough.
Levi opens the gate for me at the clubhouse, greeting me with a friendly smile. The others are a different story. I don’t even have one foot out of my car before Hash prowls toward me with a scowl.
“Did Prez invite you here?” he growls.
Uh… what the hell? “No. He didn’t. I wasn’t aware I needed to be invited if I had something I wanted to talk about.”
His arms are now folded across his chest. “You might have a nice pair of tits and spread your legs without him asking, but if I find out you’re behind this, we’re going to have a fucking problem. Scotch’s sister or not.”
I rear my head back at his response because where in the fuck did that come from? And did he just basically call me a club whore?
I climb out of the car and stand, facing him and looking directly into his eyes so that he knows he can't talk down to me, and give him a glare to rival his. “I don’t know what your problem is. I don’t even know you. And I really don’t appreciate you basically calling me a whore. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have shit to do that doesn’t include looking at your patchy beard that you still can’t fill in as a grown-ass man.” Shoving past him, I head inside, not waiting for a response after the growl that ensued.
“Hey, Ink.” I smile at him, seeing him lounging on one of the couches. He looks up and gives me a quick smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hey, Darlin’. Whatcha doin’ here?” His gaze is on me, looking skeptical. What is up with everyone looking at me like that?
“I wanted to talk to Cain. Is he around?”
Ink’s attention is already back on his phone when he responds dismissively, “Should be in his room.”
Well, okay then.
I don’t even bother asking which room is Cain’s before heading up the stairs. I just reach the top when I see a guy I remember seeing at the party the other night.
“What are you doing up here?” he asks, eyes guarded and his tone matching.
“I’m looking for Cain. Ink said he was in his room.”
“Last door on the left.”
I can feel his eyes on me as I walk down the hall until I reach Cain’s door. I turn my head to look at him, still standing in the same spot, watching me. I raise my eyebrows at him, silently asking, ‘Can I help you?’ while I pound on Cain’s door.
I mean honestly, why is everyone here acting like I’m enemy number one?
I raise my fist, ready to knock again, but the door is yanked open, and a very angry Cain is now staring back at me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“Can you not fucking read? I told you I got shit going on.”
I look down at the bottle of Jameson he has in his hand, hanging by his left side.
Okay, so something definitely fucking happened then. Cain’s drinking away said problem while the other guys are acting weird as hell. I swear these guys are more emotional than me when I’m riding the red dragon. But no way is this asshole shutting me out if it has something to do with business.
I push my way in through the opening between his side and the doorframe on the right. “Goddamnit!” he yells as he turns to face me. “Don’t make me throw you out of here. I don’t give a shit if you're Scotch’s sister.”
I cock my hip out to the side as I cross my arms under my boobs, making them push up as I look him up and down. I didn’t miss the way his eyes immediately shot to my cleavage. And I definitely didn’t miss the flare in them, either.
“You’re not going to throw me out of anywhere until we talk about what is going on,” I say calmly. I think that’s the best approach to get the answers I want. You can’t fight fire with fire. Unless that fire cheats. Then, by all means, cut his dick off. “If you want me gone after that, then fine. I’m gone.”
I don’t miss the low, frustrated growl he lets out before he slams his bedroom door shut. I take a second to look around at everything. They say a person’s room is their most sacred space. It lets you in on little secrets and quirks they would never tell you—lets you see their true personality. And Cain’s room was definitely all Cain.
It has a darker vibe but is kind of bare at the same time. He has a basic black comforter and black drapes on the window that look like they are probably the blackout kind. His walls are what make the room feel bare. He has one poster of a pin-up girl straddling a Harley that looks 20 years old. His dresser in the corner is home to the TV, and there’s a desk on the other side that looks like it serves the same purpose as my clothes chair in my room. Everyone has that one spot where they pile clean clothes that they don’t feel like putting away.
“You have 30 seconds to start talking before I throw your ass out,” he rumbles, not moving from his spot in front of the door.
This man and his attitude are really starting to test my patience. Taking a deep breath to control my urge to knock him out, I decide to get comfy by sitting on his bed leaning up against the wall.
“I want to know what in the hell is going on. You were fine when you left my place. I know you went to talk to Storm. And now, all of a sudden, it seems like you’ve done a complete 180 towards me. So please, fill in the gaps,” I say in a tone that sounds extremely calm to my ears compared to how I’m feeling right now as I flick my hand out.
“When did you tell Storm I was coming? Right after my dick was in you?”
Are you fucking kidding me?