Chapter 23
Winnie
Before I know it, two weeks pass by with Finn and me coming to a peaceful understanding while we share the cabin.
I choose to ignore him, and he stays out of my way like I need him to.
Being here in this house has done a number on me.
It’s reminded me of what my life should have been.
The dream I always wanted. I don’t understand why Finn is holding on so tightly to the past when he did everything he could to push me away.
In the end, I gave him what he wanted, space from me.
I just chose to do it more permanently by breaking up with him, moving a state away, and changing my number.
Back then, I was done being second place to the club.
For years, I let it go, convinced that things would change once he was a full member.
That day came and went, and things never got better.
I’m not stupid. I know something changed for Finn, something altered his thoughts and feelings, but he never chose to share those with me. He hurt me instead.
It feels unfair to be trapped now in the house I know from memory, with the man who claims to have built it for me.
Ignoring him and avoiding him at all costs is the only thing keeping me sane.
Thankfully, the only time Finn still encroaches on my space is when he insists on cooking dinner for us both every night.
Fortunately, the man can cook, and I am not petty enough to avoid the delicious meals he makes.
Why starve myself when he’s the one who wronged me?
Therefore, we strike a truce every night to eat.
And of course, that is the time Finn uses to his advantage to make sure I have everything I need.
With Lyric’s help, all my favorite soaps, creams, shampoo, and conditioner have been stocked in the house.
I was even given access to purchase a brand-new wardrobe, which I put to good use, after promising Finn I’d pay him back once I could access my bank account again without suspicion.
I was not looking for a redo of the past, where I was accused of using Finn for his money while going to school.
Lyric told me it was ridiculous, but once I explained the history, she understood more.
I repeated the same story to Finn when I told him to keep track of how much I owe.
His face had paled, and then his eyes were flashing with anger when he demanded to know who would speak to me that way.
When I told him everyone, he stalked off to his office and slammed the door.
If he went running to his club brothers to bitch them out now, it was about five years too late.
That's how I wanted to feel anyway. Truthfully, I was proud of myself for finally telling him about what had happened and how I had been treated, but an even more perverse part of me liked that he was angry enough to stick up for me.
Besides Lyric, the only other visitors we’ve had are Karma and Bullet, who arrive late in the evening once it's dark, do a security check of the land, the yard, and the house before leaving again.
Once in a while, they stop inside to discuss the club and any updates from Prez.
It's the latest update tonight that Finn decided to bring up over dinner that has my stomach in knots.
“His father?” My voice shakes slightly. I never met the man, but I heard many of his conversations with Marco, and I knew from those dealings that he believed I was an issue.
A mistress always is, even if they're being forced into the role. He had believed I was influencing Marco when that was far from the truth. I never had dealings with the mafia or the business side of Marco’s life.
I was there to patch up his soldiers, tend to him, and, when he requested, be at his beck and call.
I also knew Mr. Bianchi thought I was to blame for the marital issues between Marco and Cora.
Finn holds my gaze, and I take comfort from the determination I see radiating back at me.
“Bianchi Senior was the one who reached out to us first. He believed his son was losing focus because of the asset, you. Our alliance is not with Marco per se. He is a Bianchi, but it was his father that brokered the deal with Prez and the Rebels of the Undead.”
I take in his words and explanation, but can’t help but feel a sense of dread. “What happens if Mr. Bianchi gets upset and thinks that your club went back on the alliance?”
Finn pauses eating and sets his fork down, all the while not taking his eyes off of me. “We have a few options. If the Bianchis feel this is a breach of the alliance and want to break ties, there is another family we are also allied with and could get their protection.”
“What if he asks for you to hand me over?” The question bubbles out of me, while my fear builds. Mr. Bianchi sees me as a problem, and if I can’t be kept away under the guise of needing protection, to keep his son in line, he might decide there is no use for me at all.
“Win,” Finn calls my name softly, like he’s talking to a wounded animal, and maybe right now, in front of him, I am.
Against my preservation instincts, my head lifts, and my gaze meets his.
Finn’s eyes are hard, calculating, but there’s a silent strength there as well.
“I will never let that happen. You aren’t going back to the Bianchis at all. ”
“You can’t–”
“Fuck if I can’t. The club agrees with me on this, Win.
They can’t have you back. We are going to be as amenable to the alliance as we can, but the line has been drawn when it comes to you.
The whole club agrees with me,” he argues back, and I feel the band of fear around my throat loosen some.
Which is stupid. The Rebels may think they’re prepared, but I was a prisoner for almost a year.
I know how ruthless Marco can be and how dirty the family is.
That's part of the reason they’re having issues in their own ranks and with other family members.
Without a doubt, Mr. Bianchi is just as crooked as his son.
The rest of our meal slips by in silence.
I eat but can’t make myself enjoy the meal.
Everything tastes like dust while the room seems to become smaller around me.
The urge to get out, to run, to hide is almost overwhelming.
My hands clench against my leggings, physically anchoring me to the now, a reminder that I wouldn’t be safer on my own, no matter how much I think that right this moment.
Finn must grow tired of watching me fumble around when he scoots back his chair and clears his plate, then mine.
I hear the dishes clatter in the sink and cringe at the sound.
I don’t get to think too hard about it, though, because in the next second he’s storming back into the dining room, grabbing my hand and hauling me to my feet.
“What are you doing?”
His eyes roam over my face, and his hand brushes my hair back behind my ear. “You need some fresh air. Let me show you a place.”
I let him lead me to the front door, where he slides on his boots, and I put on my pink Chucks. Finn pauses, and I catch him staring at my feet with a small smirk on his face. “What?”
He shrugs. “I just remember a girl who only wore white cowboy boots.”
I roll my eyes, remembering exactly what my seventeen- and eighteen-year-old self loved.
From there, my love went to high heels before discovering tennis shoes were the way to go while in school.
Now I’m so used to them that I have various brands and styles, all of them loud and bright colored.
Or I did have them. Before my life became not my own.
“Can’t exactly wear cowboy boots in the ER,” I manage to get out, and Finn nods like he understands, but his eyes say something different.
Eventually, neither of us speaks, and silence creeps in.
Finn sighs before opening the front door and leading me outside.
I follow him around the front until we reach the side of the house where a small path cuts into the woods.
I hesitate at the opening of the trees. Finn notices and turns to me, taking my hand.
“I promise we’re safe out here.”
Nodding and trusting him even when I probably shouldn’t, I follow.
A few feet in, there's another clearing, smaller this time, but large enough to hold a wooden structure. Finn lets my hand go and moves out of the way, giving me the full effect. It’s a gazebo, the kind we used to talk about having.
Inside is a bench that goes around the circle with a picnic table on one side.
My feet move, carrying me closer. My fingers brush against the wood, finding it smooth; the craftsmanship is present in every detail.
Sinking onto the bench, I can feel the sturdiness of it.
Despite the shape and the roof, there is still room to see the evening sky.
After living in a city for so long, I forgot how much I used to enjoy seeing the sky full of stars.
Finn sits next to me on the bench, his jean-clad leg leans against mine, and his arm brushes against mine as well.
I bristle at the contact and the way his warmth bleeds into me, chasing the chill away.
It's familiar, and my heart aches picturing how life could have been.
The love story that died before it even had a chance.
“It's gorgeous,” I manage to breathe out, my voice hitching with too much emotion. I can’t look at him just yet, even though I can feel his weighted stare on the side of my face.
“That bench was the hardest part. Keeping it symmetrical took some learning."
“You built this?” I glance at him and around the gazebo. It shouldn’t surprise me, considering the house is also an exact replica of our dream home.
“I had nothing else to do without you,” he replies, his voice deep this time, gravelly.
“You had no idea I’d ever see it,” I remind him, feeling those flames of resentment flare up, ready to burn this structure to the ground.
“How did you do it, Win?” His steady stare turns to me. “How did you stay hidden so well? Atlanta isn’t far from here.”
Forcing myself to meet his determined gaze, I give him a steely one of my own, not even trying to hide the sly tilt of my lips.
“I learned from the MC, too, Finn. I picked up all kinds of intel from Squirrel, Inspector, and even you. I used my momma’s maiden name on my lease and paid the deposit in cash, adding a little extra for discretion.
The hardest part was convincing my supervisor that I didn’t want my name on their social media.
Once I told her it was for my protection, she was willing to help.
After high school, when we lived at the clubhouse, I stopped my socials then, so there wasn’t much to scrub clean. ”
Finn grunts, and it almost sounds like a laugh.
“I should have guessed. You’re a smart woman, Winnie.
You always were.” Finn’s gaze drops from mine, and he clasps his hands together.
“I never stopped looking for you, Win. I was hopeful that I’d find you, that I could show you how much you meant to me.
I wanted to give you your dream home, the gazebo, and a million other things, just for the chance to see you smile again.
I know I can’t take back what happened. I was an asshole. I fucked up. And I am sorry.”
“You’re right, you can’t take it back,” I repeat the same words that I’ve lived with, had on repeat in my head for the last five years, since I walked out of our apartment.
The moment I think about it, all the painful memories rush back, and I’m reminded of exactly why I left.
I remember every detail of that day I learned about the runs at the clubhouse, and I remember the way Finn admitted to what happened on that run at the other clubhouse.
My eyes close and I breathe deeply in and out, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Win, I don’t expect you to forget. Or even to forgive me. I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust. I’m just asking that when this is over, please let me explain. There are things you don’t know—”
“I don’t think it does either of us good to rehash the past, Dodger.
It happened, and for me, there is no going back.
You had your chance,” I cut him off, hopping to my feet and putting distance between us.
Without the heat of his body next to mine, or his familiar scent in my lungs, I can think clearly.
I can remind myself how dangerous he is to my heart.
Finn reaches for my hand, but I step farther away.
“Night,” I mumble before racing out of the gazebo and heading back toward the cabin.
I can’t let Finn wear down my resolve. There’s too much at stake, my life, his, the entire club’s.
I’ll take his protection, and I’ll use the safety of his house, but that's where I need to draw the line. Finn will just have to accept that, and in time when he sees how high the walls I’ve built around my heart are, he’ll realize the work isn’t worth it.
Just like it wasn’t to him back then either.