Chapter 7 – Rory
CJ: Tomorrow afternoon, we’re playing flag football. Are you in?
Rory: Always.
Rory: Yep.
When he heard the text message coming through, Rory had almost ignored it. He was in his room, searching his closet for the perfect black suit. He had several because of Mom’s determination to show him life outside of the club.
He turned toward the bank of windows, wishing desperately for French doors and a balcony.
The sun had set so he couldn’t see the stream that brought him peace more often than not.
Tonight, his devastation wouldn’t relent, but he was never more grateful to his mother than he was now.
Although she’d misconstrued his grief and chalked it up to a simple crush, she was finding a way to support him.
Something not even Dad would do. She also thought Gypsy had been pretty—unlike Dad.
Mom’s opinion eased Rory. She, like most women, were harsh critics of other girls.
Mom was also brutally honest. She thought Gypsy was pathetic, but not unattractive.
Had been. Because she wasn’t anymore.
Gypsy was gone.
Trying to hold in his tears, he sat on the edge of the bed and blinked.
At the time of her death, they hadn’t spoken in days.
Not only had she propositioned CJ and thought it was fucking funny that Derby also offered her pussy to CJ, she’d told Rory she was disappointed that Derby didn’t care about their relationship.
He’d told her to leave that motherfucker because he didn’t deserve her.
She refused. She still loved him.
Rory had been so fucking angry and humiliated, he’d stormed out. Now, she was dead.
Realizing he still held his phone, he studied the darkened screen, his stomach in knots. CJ would listen to him. They could talk about Diesel’s party. Rory could apologize for not waiting until CJ decided to leave and rag on Dev for his fuckery toward Rebel earlier tonight.
Rory could…
Drown in more guilt. He could pretend he hadn’t known what Ryan was up to and hadn’t seen Rebel and Harley on video. Rory could pretend Uncle Christopher hadn’t put the fear of God in him in the early hours of Saturday morning, then greeted him at the club less than twenty-four hours later.
Throwing his phone next to him, Rory blew out a heavy breath. CJ wouldn’t care that Rory campaigned for DeLuca to rescue Molly. He’d just see Rory’s role as disloyalty to him and an extreme betrayal to Rebel and Harley. And Mattie.
Before Wally, Jr. killed Gypsy, he’d tried to strangle Mattie. What would Rory have done if his little sister had been murdered? What would Mom have done? She wouldn’t have recovered. Rory, JJ, Blade, and Dad would’ve lost her, too.
The tears he’d been holding back flowed freely because as much as he mourned Gypsy…
Fuck, but he was such a miserable little prick. Gypsy didn’t deserve to die. But it was better her than Mattie.
Rory covered his face, ashamed of himself.
Ashamed of his role in the entire situation. Ashamed of his father.
He’d apologize to Gypsy. Tell her how sorry he was that she’d lost her life. Ask her if he had gone to CJ or Uncle Christopher or Uncle Mort, if any of this would’ve happened?
Because that was the fucking thing to do. Ask a dead woman questions.
In fairness to himself, he’d only recently discovered what Ryan was up to. Before…
Before Bash brought Molly back.
Before Mattie was attacked.
Before Gypsy was killed.
Did that matter? The minute he found out Ryan was recording Rebel and Harley…Jesus.
Rory should’ve spoken up.
“I’m so sorry, Gypsy,” he whispered.
He’d apologize to her for the rest of his life. Hopefully, she could hear him.
He wanted to do more, though. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and thank her at the same time. She’d taught him so much and she’d probably saved his mother, Lolly, Grandmother, his aunts, or his cousins. Or even his sister. Wally, Jr. hadn’t intended to stop until he avenged Eliza.
Mom might leave Rory alone with Gypsy for a few minutes, but she might not. He doubted he’d hold his shit together when he first saw her body in the casket and Mom wouldn’t leave him, so he wouldn’t be able to thank Gypsy.
He could always write her a note and slip it somewhere on her, allowing his words to be with her for all eternity.
That idea soothed something inside of him as much as Mom’s care and concern did. Getting to his feet, he walked to his desk, pulled a sheet of paper and a pen out of his drawer. And stared at the blank lines, unsure of what to write.
Suppose someone found the note before she was buried?
Rory was almost certain Mom wouldn’t demand to read it even if she was standing right next to him when he placed it.
Nothing had been going right lately, so he didn’t want to write anything incriminating, then it would be discovered and Gypsy would be cast in a bad light.
No matter what Mom and his aunts would think, she wasn’t a predator. She was a beautiful woman who had shared herself and a lot of information with Rory.
Which, again, he couldn’t reveal. It wasn’t all that earth-shattering anyway, but his emotions were too jumbled to hide his source if he went to Mom. He’d risk revealing everything.
The paper came back into focus. Words floated in his head. One day, he’d write a longer note to her. Maybe he’d tear it up afterwards or take it to wherever Derby planned to bury her, sit at her grave, and read it to her.
For now, he simply wrote, Thank you for being you, Rory Donovan.
He’d just finished folding the loose-leaf page and stuffing it into the pair of trousers he’d wear when a knock came on his door.
“Come in,” he called.
JJ popped his head in. He was blond like Dad, but brown-eyed like Mom, and shared a close resemblance to Ryder. Those two could be brothers instead of cousins. “Mom ordered pizza.”
“I told her I’m not hungry,” Rory said, throwing his pants back onto the bed. He still needed to pick out socks, underwear, and shoes. “She must’ve forgotten.”
“Mom’s packing. Dad sent me to get you.”
Rory frowned. “Packing to go where? And when is she leaving?”
“On an emergency business meeting. And early tomorrow.” JJ didn’t look pleased. He adored Mom and preferred her over anyone else except Mattie. “She said she’ll be home in time for the DNA stuff.”
That couldn’t be right. The tests were on Wednesday. Mom promised Rory she’d take him to see Gypsy the day after tomorrow.
Rushing to the door, Rory threw it fully open and brushed past JJ. “I want two pieces of pizza. I’ll meet you in the dining room.”
“Kitchen. We’re eating at the table in there.”
Rory didn’t care. His heart pounding, he ran to his mother’s room and remembered to knock at the last minute.
A moment later, the doorknob lock turned and Mom opened the door. “Yes, son?”
Rory ignored her distant tone and her severe look. “You aren’t leaving…?” He swallowed, frightened, grief-stricken. “You’re taking me to view…”
“Something’s come up, Rory. I won’t be able to do it. Your father will be here. Ask him.”
Anger surged into Rory, but he pushed it away. Mom couldn’t desert him right now when he needed her so bad. “I want you to take me.”
“I can’t.”
The emotionless words crushed Rory and he stiffened, straightening his shoulders. He wasn’t as tall as her yet, but he was getting there.
Instead of intimidating her, she lifted a brow. “Anything else?”
“I want to know why…”
She slammed the door in his fucking face.