Chapter 38
SUNDAY
Ican’t believe this is happening. I don’t want to go, but it’s too late to back out now.
Tonight is my leaving party at the bar. I’m liable to lose my shit because how can I leave? I love it here. I love everyone, and more than anyone, I love Razor.
He has tried to make every second we have together count for something the past two weeks, and it’s only made things worse. It reveals what my life could be with him.
But he won’t give me more. I deserve more. I don’t want to be his whore for the rest of my life without an official stamp on it.
I owe it to my dignity to protect it.
We head into the bar together for the last time, and it’s tearing me up inside. Razor is retreating. He has hardly spoken for the past few days. Grunts mingled with nods are my only response, and it’s killing me inside.
I can’t do this.
A loud cheer goes up when we enter, and I paste a smile on my face, even when inside my heart is breaking.
“Sunday!”
Carla calls me over as I make my way through the bodies of Reapers and my friends who all want to wish me well.
Razor, as always, shadows me. His huge body comforting, his presence reassuring.
“I’ve made your favorite cocktail.”
Carla grins as she hands me a Sunday special, and my eyes fill with grateful tears.
“Hey, no weeping on my watch, honey.”
She grins, several of the girls all holding matching drinks to mine as they raise them in a toast.
Carla says with tears in her eyes.
“To Sunday. We will miss her radiant smile, her easy-going nature, and the way she always had a ready ear and wise words of advice. We will miss her skills behind the bar, and this place sure won’t be the same without her. To Sunday. The best friend any woman here could wish for.”
As they all raise their glasses, I can’t stop the tears from falling. My heart is breaking. I really mean that, and I sip my drink as a distraction more than through desire.
Carla points to a gift-wrapped box on the counter and wipes her tears away.
“This is from all of us. We had a collection and we really hope you will remember us, honey.”
My fingers shake as I untie the ribbon and as I ease off the wrapping, my tears fall faster when I lift the heavy Reaper jacket out of the box, my name patched over the Reaper badge.
There is an envelope inside, and as I open it, a gift certificate for my favorite store reveals I could afford to buy the entire store if I wished.
“I don’t know what to say.”
I’m openly bawling my eyes out now, along with several of my friends because this is way too much.
Carla sniffs, “We’ll miss you, honey, so much it hurts. Please come and visit us soon.”
“I will.”
I’m not sure if anybody here, including me, really believes that, and as a strong arm grips my shoulder, I fall against the one person here I will miss the most.
Sympathetic glances surround me as Razor drops a light kiss on my head and says gruffly, “You okay, darlin’?”
No, I’m not okay. I will never be okay again.
I want to scream at him, pound his chest and kick the motherfucker to hell because this is all his fault.
I wouldn’t be leaving now if he would open up.
He can’t hide his emotions from me. I see them in his eyes when he doesn’t think I’m watching him.
He is as destroyed as I am, but the bastard won’t let me in.
This is the only way to preserve my sanity, and so I swallow my anger, my pain, and my smart mouth and merely smile up at him.
“I’m okay.”
His eyes narrow and his expression is grim. His hold tightens as the music starts thumping—my favorite tune, the first one up.
They are all here. Every single Reaper, whore, and old lady, and I am overwhelmed by their support.
I notice Blade holding Delilah close to him, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, her expression of contentment like a knife to my heart.
Ashton is in much the same pose with Ryder. Snake, and Bonnie, Lou, and Brewer all the same. Flash is teasing Jennifer, and Lucy is gazing at Jet with an unusually bright smile.
I love them all. The establishment, if you like, the main characters. Then there are the ones who make up the supporting cast. The whores, the single Reapers and those who drift in and out, and speaking of two of them, I’m honored that Summer and Tyson made it back in time from her tour.
She calls for everyone’s attention by strumming her guitar, and as her beautiful, soulful voice rings out, all of our attention is now firmly on her.
She is the number one country singer in the world right now and yet still manages to remain a Reaper. Tyson heads off with her when she’s on tour. When she’s not, they live here in a house on the grounds, while he joins the Reapers and rides out on missions.
This family may be fucked up, but it’s the best one there is, and as the party gets underway, I wish like hell I was staying.
* * *
A few hours later and several cocktails down, I say my goodbyes and head out with Razor, the lump in my throat a permanent feature it seems. We walk into the night, the silence in direct contrast to the noise from the bar, and as we reach the crossroads between the two blocks, I don’t think I can do this.
The tears fall as he grips my hand and pulls me in close; a thousand words in the embrace, none of them spoken.
This is goodbye.
I already told him I couldn’t bear to stay with him tonight, knowing it was our final one. He respected my wishes, but I’m already second-guessing them. I want to be with him so badly, but I must prepare myself for sleeping alone.
“I don’t want you to go, Sunday.”
His low voice is edged with desolation, and it tears at my heart a million times over.
“Then ask me to stay, Razor. Tell me you want this—want more.”
He inhales sharply. “I can’t give you what you deserve, Sunday. I’m sorry, it’s for the best.”
He may as well have stabbed me in the heart as a goodbye gift, and I nod, clutching the jacket around me, stepping away.
“Then this is goodbye.”
His arms fall to his side, and I swear his eyes fill with tears, but one blink and they are gone. Mine not so fast.
“Thank you, Razor, for everything.”
My voice sounds pitiful. Why the fuck am I thanking him? I want to scream at him, drag emotion from inside him. Not this polite goodbye as if we are strangers.
He nods. “You have my number. I’ll always be here for you, darlin’.”
“I know.”
I blow out a breath, hating every minute of this.
“So, I guess this is it. The final curtain on our show.”
I make light of the situation, but inside my heart is breaking.
“I guess.”
I half-turn, hoping he wakes up and begs me to stay, but he says nothing. He always does, and as I walk away from him, I don’t look back. I can’t look back. I won’t look back because if I do, I’m liable to break.