Chapter Two - Chapter One
CHAPTER TWO
Chapter One
NINE YEARS LATER
I shifted away from the bed and began dressing as soon as we were done. Now that the deed was done, I was eager to leave, the urgency eating at me like an itch I couldn’t scratch. The room felt colder now, the warmth from our bodies dissipating into the shadows that clung to the corners. The air was thick with the lingering scent of sweat, sex and cheap perfume, a combination that made my stomach turn with a familiar sense of disgust—not with Tracy, but with me.
“You can stay the night, Valley,” Tracy murmured, coming up behind me, her arms snaking around my waist, her voice soft, almost pleading. “You don’t always have to leave.”
Her touch was warm, almost comforting, but it felt like shackles tightening around my chest. I turned, moving out of her reach with practiced ease, no touching afterward. She knew this, but I had a feeling she was getting attached, her eyes lingering on me longer than they used to, her voice softer, more intimate.
“If I wanted to, I would,” I replied, shoving my boots on my feet, each motion deliberate, trying to mask the guilt nibbling at the edges of my conscience.
Hurt crossed her face, a flicker of pain she tried to hide behind a small smile, but I ignored it, my heart hardened a long time ago when it came to dealing with women. Casual, no strings, no commitments. That’s how it had to be, how I deserved it, and it kept Kezia’s ghost from haunting me. But even as I told myself that, the hollow ache in my chest deepened, a void that no amount of sex or distance could ever fill.
“Okay, I understand,” she said with a small smile, trying to mask the hurt from my icy demeanor, her voice was barely above a whisper.
Without another word, I left and went into the common room, the air thick with the usual scents of the clubhouse, ready for a drink that might numb the constant emptiness inside. I’d have to switch away from Tracy for a while. It was a shame because I always picked her because she wasn’t a big talker before and after. She never questioned why we could never go to my room or pushed me for anything more.
Until tonight.
The familiar sounds of laughter, conversation, and clinking glasses filled the space as I moved to the bar. I sat on a stool and signaled Sean for a beer, my body sinking into the worn leather as if it could somehow absorb the weight of my thoughts. Jonesy took the stool beside me, his presence solid, dependable—a contrast to the unwanted thoughts swirling in my mind.
“Hey, Valley, hoping I would catch you tonight.”
“Oh yeah? Why?” I asked, trying to muster some semblance of interest, though my mind was already drifting, the usual buzz of the clubhouse fading into the background.
“We’re switching you from bartending at The Devil’s Den to bouncer at Twisted Heat,” he informed me, his tone casual, as if this was just another day, another routine change. Which it was, but I enjoyed my job at The Devil’s Den.
“Snipe finally ready to take over?” I asked, knowing Jonesy was driving Snipe crazy. Brother liked to micro-manage, always had to have his fingers in every pie.
“Yep, with the wedding next week I need to focus on other shit, so be there tomorrow night and check in with Snipe,” he said, getting up, his movements smooth, easy, like someone who had everything figured out. “Later.”
I took a swig of my beer and sighed; it seemed like every man here was getting married or found the one. It was damn depressing for a guy like me who would never have the love of a woman or family. And the worst part? One of those guys was my best friend, Midnight. I stood as his best man over the weekend, and now he was gonna be a daddy. Fucking unbelievable, but I was happy for him, and I liked Hadleigh.
The loneliness that was always present just seemed to get deeper, knowing things were gonna change between us. Midnight and I had been running together since we were eight years old, thick as thieves and ornery as hell, and his family treated me like one of their own.
Something that would change if they knew the truth about that night—about what I had done.
“There moving me to Twisted Heat too,” Sean said, leaning on the bar and interrupting my thoughts, his voice a welcome distraction from the memories that threatened to drown me.
I raised my eyebrow, surprised. “What happened to Johnny?”
Sean shrugged, the motion casual, but there was something unspoken in his eyes, like he knew a secret. “Not sure, but I heard he’s losing his rocker.”
“Huh, wonder I haven’t heard about it,” I replied, taking another long pull from my beer, the cold liquid sliding down my throat, but doing little to cool the fire of unease burning in my gut.
“Just happened this morning, only reason I know is Johnny was bitching about it on the phone in our room,” Sean replied, moving away to take care of someone, leaving me with more questions than answers.
“He let that crazy bitch that took Hadleigh into the clubhouse,” Lucky said, taking a stool and signaling for a drink, his voice carrying a weight that made me sit up a little straighter.
My eyes widened in surprise. “And he’s still here?”
“For now, but we’ll be votin’ on it soon enough,” Lucky replied, his tone grim, the unspoken understanding that there was no room for mistakes in this club as a prospect.
“Got ya, I forgot it has to come up for vote,” I replied, taking a drink, my mind racing. “You ready for the wedding?”
“This ain’t my first rodeo, kid, remember Katherine? I got this,” Lucky chuckled, a sound that was more tired than amused. “Never thought I’d ever be leadin’ one beautiful woman down the aisle, let alone two.”
I had forgotten Lucky walked Katherine down the aisle on her wedding day. The memory tugged at something deep inside me, again that longing for something I knew I could never have. I gave Lucky a nod, wondering what the fuck was up with me tonight.
I took another long pull from my beer, the smooth liquid still doing little to wash away the bitterness I felt creeping in, the sense that no matter how hard I tried to accept my fate, I would always be on the outside looking in, old and alone.
As I glanced around the room, the usual noise of the clubhouse faded into the background, the conversations overlapping into a dull hum, the laughter ringing out from the pool table. The familiar smells of the clubhouse hung heavy in the air, clinging to my clothes, my skin, a reminder of the life I’d chosen. Same as my dad and I thought the brotherhood of the club would be enough to keep me happy. But lately, it hasn’t been. Its walls closing in around me, suffocating me with every passing day.
“You good, Valley?” Lucky asked, his tone softer, more concerned, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t give.
I forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind. Guess I need to get used to Twisted Heat again.”
“You’ll be fine,” he assured me, his voice filled with a confidence I didn’t feel at the moment. “At least you got Snipe and won’t have Jonesy drivin’ you up a wall.”
I nodded, appreciating the concern, but knowing it didn’t really matter where I worked. The emptiness inside me wasn’t something a new job could fix, and it wasn’t something I could outrun, no matter how fast or far I rode.
As the night wore on, I let myself get lost in the usual banter and bullshit, the familiar rhythm of the clubhouse lulling me into a false sense of normalcy, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that things were changing faster than I could keep up with. I knew I should be grateful for what I had—brothers who had my back, a place to call home—but all I could think about was what I didn’t have.
What I could never have.
When the clubhouse finally started to clear out, I finished my beer and stood up, tossing goodbyes. “Catch you later, Lucky.”
He gave me a knowing look but didn’t push it. “Take it easy, Valley.”
I walked out into the night, the late-night cool air hitting me like a slap in the face, the chill cutting through the leather of my jacket, reminding me that I was still alive, still here. The roar of my bike cut through the silence as I fired it up, the vibrations running through me, grounding me in the moment. But as I rode away from the clubhouse, the dark road stretching out before me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how fast I went, I couldn’t outrun the loneliness that was always nipping at my heels.
And maybe I never would.