53. Candy
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CANDY
F urious, I swing the door open. It bounces violently against the wall as I storm into the hall.
I need to get as far away from Butch as fast as I can, or so help me God, I may strangle the man. I have no wish to do jail time, nor do I want to hurt him.
My fist squeezes around the marriage certificate, the physical reminder of Butch’s betrayal. I didn’t mean to take it with me when I left our suite— his suite. It’s no longer a shared space between us. How can it be? The jerk is my husband and never told me. He has drawn a line between us.
I strain to hear if Butch is following and don’t hear running feet chasing me down. At least he’s behaving and following my order to stay put. Though, I’d really love to torture the hell out of him, denying him his orgasm for what he’s done. He would look so good, writhing on the bed as I bring him again and again to the edge of bliss.
Ugh! Stop thinking about sex with Butch! You caught him hiding valuable information about your relationship together.
Forcing my sexual craving aside, I head to my old suite I shared with Red. Normally, I would go to my hidden dark closet. Though, I don’t trust Butch not to come find me there. At least in my old room, I can lock him out.
Then again, Reaper took the stairs three at a time to get to Red when we arrived home. He engulfed her in a massive bear hug once he reached her on the landing before the two of them disappeared into what was once our shared suite.
There’s no way I’m going to interrupt their private time with my problems.
Eager to shut myself away, I break into a jog, running for the only safe space I know.
When I reach Ebony’s suite, I throw myself into the room. Tucked away in my friend’s private domain, I huff and puff. “ARG!”
“Oooo, this sounds fun,” Ebony says sarcastically from where she sits in her recliner reading an Easyriders magazine. The woman reads them like the bible, searching the pages like she’s looking for something specifically—maybe something pertaining to her old club.
Ebony tosses the magazine on the coffee table in front of her, giving her undivided attention. “Spill the tea.”
“Get ready. It’s piping hot.” I snarl, stomping over to the couch in her sitting area. I sink into the over-plush couch, unsure I enjoy the feeling of being swallowed whole.
Ebony’s entire suite is extra soft decor. It’s kind of like living in a cloud. I chalk it up to her early life, growing up in a one-percent MC. She added extra softness to her surroundings to compensate for the hard biker world she came from.
“Trouble in paradise?” Ebony muses aloud, waiting for me to dish the dirt.
But I’m too angry to get the words out without spitting venom. Instead, I hand her the crumpled marriage certificate.
Ebony’s brows pull together as she takes the license and reads it. At first she looks confused, but then her mouth drops open. Her brown eyes snap to mine in surprise .
“Holy shit! You’re married?”
“It’s news to me, too.”
“How the fuck is this news to you?” Ebony cocks her head, baffled. “You were there.”
“Yeah, but I don’t remember it. I mean, I had this recurring dream where Butch and I got married in Vegas after he proposed to me with a Ring Pop. Turns out it wasn’t a dream.”
Ebony’s nose wrinkles. “He proposed to you with a Ring Pop? And you accepted?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Apparently.”
My friend covers her mouth with her hand, hiding her smile.
“It’s not funny, Eb!”
“It kind of is,” Ebony chokes through her chuckle. “You must’ve been wasted off your ass.”
Annoyed, I glare at the woman I consider an adoptive sister. “I’m glad this amuses you. But you’re not the one who got hitched without your knowledge and had your biker hide it from you.”
She stops laughing, analyzing me with puckered lips. “What do you mean, Butch hid this from you?”
“We left Vegas less than two weeks ago. I found this marriage license by chance when I picked up his cut and it fell out. Butch confessed he’s known about this since we left Vegas and didn’t tell me until I confronted him with it. He kept me in the dark, and I don’t know why!”
Ebony holds up a palm to stop me once she sees I’m close to blowing my lid. “Walk me through it, gurl. Let me see if I can make sense of it.”
After I explain to Ebony the brief conversation I had with Butch regarding our marriage, my temperature rises, along with my rage. I’m so mad, I’m sweating. Or maybe that’s because I’m being suffocated in Ebony’s couch. Either way, it doesn’t help my temperament.
“There has to be a reason he didn’t feel comfortable telling you about this,” Ebony rationalizes, waving the marriage certificate in the air between us.
Her words anger me further. “So it’s my fault he hid this from me?”
Ebony holds up a finger in warning. “Whoa, now. I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did,” I snap. “You said I must’ve made him too uncomfortable to tell me. Victim blame much?”
“Chill out,” Ebony claps back. “You’re twisting my words.”
A sound of disgust crawls up my throat. “The one who’s twisting anything is you, accusing me of having something to do with something I didn’t know of.”
My friend clearly disapproves of my attitude, her lips forming a thin line of discontent. She gives me a stern glare before scolding me. “Why am I on the reciprocating end of your bitchiness? Am I the one who put a ring on it and hid it from you? I think not. You better UNO reverse your tone, Candy. Return to sender right fucking now, or I’ll go one-percent on your ass.”
Ah, shit. Beat-down Ebony is not someone you want to mess with. The woman fights dirty.
It’s the reality check I need to snap me out of my rage. I look away from my friend, mortified at blowing up on her. She’s right. Ebony has nothing to do with my shitty circumstances, and I’m an ass for taking my aggression out on her.
Owning up to my mistake, I face Ebony. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” I admit, my voice laced with chagrin. “I’m so damn mad, I lashed out at the first person to come into my orbit.”
The contempt on Ebony’s face melts away, replaced with compassion. Empathetic Ebony is almost worse than Beat-down Ebony, at least for someone prideful like me. I swallow my pride right down, knowing I need a friend to listen to me air my grievances.
My friend gets up from her seat and joins me on the sofa, sinking us deeper into the cushions.
“I get it,” Ebony admits. “I’d be hella pissed, too, if I were in your shoes. Your anger is justified, but not at me.”
I give her a shy smile. “ Forgive me?”
Ebony releases a humorless snort, pulling me in for a hug. “Yeah, I forgive your bitchy behavior.”
We embrace for a long time—her comforting me, and me soaking it in like a dry sponge.
When we pull apart, I sigh. “What am I going to do, Eb?”
Her dark brows pinch together with a look of concern. “What do you want to do?”
I bite my lip. What do I want to do about it?
Before this betrayal came to light, all I wanted was to be with Butch. Didn’t matter if I felt I wasn’t good enough for him, I still wistfully wanted to be tied to him. All I’ve wanted in life was to be someone’s everything. Butch was the first person I saw having a happily ever after with—the only person I wanted a future with.
Finding out I’m legally already his spouse while he tried to conceal it from me is a punch in the kidneys. If Butch felt the same as I do for him, he wouldn’t have kept this from me. He’d be rejoicing in our union like I would.
Him trying to cover up our marriage could only mean he’s embarrassed to be my husband, right? What other reason could there possibly be?
A tear slips out, rolling down my cheek. “I’m not sure there’s anything to do. Butch is humiliated having me for a wife.”
Ebony lifts an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”
“Why else would someone hide their marriage?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure. But I don’t think he’s embarrassed to have you as his wife. The guy eye fucks you around anyone. He’s always with you. He isn’t trying to get with anyone else. For Christ’s sake, he moved you into his suite without asking you and claimed you as his woman. The man is infatuated with you. I may not know the reason Butch did what he did, but neither do you. When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.”
“Then what do I do?”
Ebony rolls her eyes. “You talk to him. Duh .”
My lips tug down into a frown—I’m uncomfortable with the prospect of a crucial confrontation with my man when I’m heated. “I’m not sure I can handle talking to him at the moment.”
“No one said it needs to happen this second. Cool off. When you’re ready to get answers, confront him.”
I look helplessly at my friend. “What if my fear is confirmed? What if he thinks I’m okay to fuck but not good enough to wed?”
“You get the marriage annulled and move on. Though I believe he wants this marriage to work. Why not come clean right away if he didn’t want you as his wife? Confessing early seems like the better option to get out of the commitment as opposed to pretending it never happened.”
Huh. I hadn’t thought of it like that. “Makes sense.”
My heart pulls with a twinge of hope. Could Butch really want this marriage?
“Do you think…” I lick my dry lips nervously, scared I’m hoping for too much, “…he hid our marriage out of fear I wouldn’t want him?”
Ebony takes a few seconds to consider my question. “Makes a hell of a lot of sense to me. Not trying to piss you off, but you don’t give off warm and fuzzy vibes. Poor guy might have been afraid you’d deny him .”
My hands cover my cheeks as realization hits me hard. “Oh, my God.”
I’m not the most affectionate person, keeping most people at a safe distance for a good reason. Getting too close usually ends up hurting me.
My cool demeanor makes it difficult for anyone to get close, and most assume I’m disinterested or dislike them. It hurts my heart if Butch felt he couldn’t reveal our marriage to me, fearing I’d reject him.
Ebony quietly watches me as I mull over all the information. She clears her throat after a while, bringing my attention back to her as she hands me back my marriage license. “Do you love him? ”
I look at my friend, my eyes fighting to hold back my tears. Not trusting my voice to shake, I nod.
Ebony gives me a big smile. “I think you should have that conversation with him sooner rather than later, babe. It’s time you tell him how you feel, and for you to hear him out.”
Not wasting another second, I quickly make my way out of the room. I’ve got a husband to confront.