Chapter 39
My phone rings for the hundredth time and for the hundredth time, I ignore it, drowning out the incessant noise with every hit to the punching bag in my garage.
I already know who it is without having to look at the caller ID.
I was due at a club meeting an hour ago, but considering what happened this morning, nothing could be further from my mind.
It’s the first meeting I’ve missed since joining the club five years ago.
It’s an unwritten rule that all members attend.
It’s expected, except in extenuating circumstances and the way I’m feeling right now feels pretty fucking close, but I couldn’t give a shit either way.
Nothing matters anymore.
Not without her.
The look on Kaia’s face is all I can see when I close my eyes. The image of tears in hers.
Tears I put there.
The punching bag takes yet another hammering as it swings back and forth on its hook, the chains it’s suspended from rattling. I’m not wearing gloves, so every hit tears through another layer of skin on my already sore and bruised knuckles.
I suppose I had this coming. Karma after all has a funny way of biting you in the ass when you least expect it, I only wish I’d told her the truth before she saw that text from Jett.
“Fuck!” I shout, striking the bag harder, throwing my entire body behind the punch and it swings backwards.
The skin on my knuckles splits wide open, leaving a streak of blood on the bag.
My fingers are bruised and bloody, my bones close to breaking and I welcome the pain.
I’ve got the garage door wide open, the biting winter wind sweeping through, feeling like icicles piercing my skin.
I deserve it. I deserve the pain but it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near close to the pain she feels. I ripped her beating heart out of her chest with my bare hands and I couldn’t hate myself more if I tried.
A familiar rumble of a motorcycle engine pulling up on my driveway drags me from my thoughts and I groan. The engine switches off, footsteps growing closer but I don’t turn around. I don’t wanna see anyone today.
“What the fuck, man?” Jett asks. “You missed the meeting. We’ve called you like a hundred times.”
When I don’t answer, Jett moves closer, peering around to see my face.
“You hear me, man?”
“Kaia knows.” My voice is low and rough. Strained.
“Fuck, man. How did she take it?”
I meet his eyes. “How do you fucking think? She saw your fucking text this morning and now she wants nothing to do with me!”
“So it’s my fault? Who’s fucking plan was it in the first place? Who went and fell in love with her instead?”
I hit him, my fist smashing into his face, sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his jaw. Even with the beating my fists have taken today, the pain radiating through my hand and up my arm isn’t enough to deflect from the pain in my heart.
Nothing ever will.
I’ve experienced a lot of pain in my life, but losing Kaia is the worst pain imaginable.
Jett rights himself and swings for me, the force of his punch has my head snapping to the right. “This is on you, man. Not me!” He tackles me to the ground, kneeling above me and swings for me again.
His fist cracks across my face but I don’t resist. I don’t fight back.
I take it. I invite the pain.
I lay my arms open on the ground beside me and stare up at him, challenging him to hit me again.
He pulls back his fist, holding it in the air above me.
“Do it. Hit me again. I deserve it.” I want him to hit me. I need him to hit me.
I lost the only person who’s ever truly mattered to me. The only person I’ve ever loved. Nothing else matters to me anymore.
She asked me once if I was afraid of dying and I told her I was afraid of not living. Well, if it means living without her, I don’t want it.
He searches my eyes for a beat before he drops his fist. “I’m not gonna hit you again, man,” he says with a sigh, climbing off me.
I sit up straight, wiping away a trickle of blood from my nose while he winces, his fingers brushing the split to his lip.
“I’m sorry, bro. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” I say.
“Won’t argue with that. I shouldn’t have hit you back.”
“Yeah, you should. I’d have lost respect for you if you hadn’t.”
He snorts a laugh. “You okay?”
“No.” my reply is instant. “I hate myself for hurting her.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s at Sofia’s place.” There’s a tracker installed on my truck and while it was never an intentional way to keep tabs on her, it’s a small comfort to know she’s somewhere safe. But I’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable with her in my arms.
“We’ve gotta figure out a way to get your girl back. You’re meant for each other. You two are like some fucked up Romeo and Juliet.”
My head snaps up. “Didn’t they commit suicide so they wouldn’t have to live without each other? That’s pretty fucked up.”
“Whatever, man. We’re getting off topic. Fact is, we’ve gotta get you two lovebirds back together.”
I shake my head. “She hates me.”
“She hated you when you met,” he points out. “She might hate you now but she loves you too. I fucking know she does.”
“Not after what I’ve done. Her face… Fuck, I—” I bow my head, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.
He slaps a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll figure out a way. We always do. She’s your girl and she always will be.”
He’s right. She is my girl. There’s no one else for me.
I will get my girl back, no matter how long it takes and whatever obstacles I face. I never back down from a challenge.
“So, what’s this new development you mentioned in that fucking message? It better be fucking worth me losing my girl.”
“Those payments Watson’s been making? The account belonged to Tobias fucking Grimes.”