under
his breath. “Good. Sort out whose dick is bigger, and we’ll let the
winner fuck Trigger in the ass for starting this whole
mess.”
My attention snaps from
Grady to Duke, who’s holding the back of his head with one hand. He
keeps removing it to check for blood and then putting it back. I
shove Chel off of me and climb off the table, ready to push through
the crowd. By the time I get there, the crowd of people has moved
out of my way. I don’t even have a chance to throw up an elbow. In
the center of the crowd, Duke stands with his head down. I don’t
even think about it as my feet carry me over to him.
Stopping a foot away, I
stand awkwardly, unsure what I should be doing. In the back of my
head I think I want to tell him that we’re done, but I can’t quite
bring myself to feel the words. At least, I know I should. But then
he lifts his head, and the way he looks, so sullen with his mouth
turned downward and his eyes empty, I can’t bring myself to hate
him, even though I want to.
“ Gonna
pick a fight?” he snaps. I flinch, realizing what Chel meant about
them being charged, then narrow my eyes. I take a deep breath and
remind myself of the talk Diesel and I had last
night. Not in public.
“ We need to talk,” I say.
He waits a moment before nodding his head and reaching out for me
with his arm. I take the step forward and welcome the way he wraps
his arm around my waist, holding me close. The crowd scatters now
that the fun is over, and the few people who hang around seem to be
primarily on-hand on case shit starts up again.
We turn to walk into the
clubhouse when Duke’s eyes catch sight of something near the picnic
table. I follow his gaze, and my stomach feels like a thousand
butterflies are let loose at once. Directly in the line of Duke’s
sight is Jeremy. He’s leaning up against that same fucking bike
again, which I now recognize as Duke’s. He’s locked eyes with Duke,
and his shoulders are straight. He’s always trying to prove how
tough he is at school, and he’s always trying to show me how he can
be the man of the house at home. And now here in front of the club
he’s trying to be the man he thinks he’s already become. But he’s
not, and suddenly I’m horrified for a whole new reason.
“ Are you on my fucking
bike?” Duke asks. He removes his arm from my waist and rolls his
shoulders as he strides toward Jeremy, leaving me behind. I scurry
to catch up with Duke, but it’s too late. He’s already reached my
asshat brother, who has his chin stuck up in the air like he’s an
O.G. or something. Idiot.
“ I like the paint job,”
Jeremy says, giving the gas tank a pat. The air is forcibly sucked
out of my lungs, and the entire world disappears with the exception
of Duke and Jeremy.
“ Off,” Duke says, hitching
his thumb backward. “Before I break your fucking
kneecaps.”
“ Chill,” Jeremy says and
gives Duke an incredulous look. As he pushes off the bike, a
grating, scratching sound sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t
move a muscle, nor do I take in a breath. Very slowly, Duke moves
toward his bike and shoves Jeremy to the side. Before I can react,
Duke’s got Jeremy by the collar of his tee shirt, and he’s holding
him so they stand nose to nose.
“ You scratched,” he says
very slowly, “my bike.”
“ Sorry?” Jeremy says in a
casual way, like it’s a question he doesn’t really care about.
Before Dad went away, he tried to teach Jeremy what it means to be
a man, and part of that lesson was to never back down. Only bitches
back down, and no son of his is a bitch. Actually, no daughter of
his is to back down, either. But Dad isn’t 5’5” and barely a buck
twenty. When you’re my size and going up against someone Duke’s
size, it’s totally okay to back down and plead for mercy. It might
even be okay to beg, I think. But does Jeremy do any of those
things?
No.
He smirks.
He fucking smirks.
“ You’re going to pay for
this,
his breath. “Good. Sort out whose dick is bigger, and we’ll let the
winner fuck Trigger in the ass for starting this whole
mess.”
My attention snaps from
Grady to Duke, who’s holding the back of his head with one hand. He
keeps removing it to check for blood and then putting it back. I
shove Chel off of me and climb off the table, ready to push through
the crowd. By the time I get there, the crowd of people has moved
out of my way. I don’t even have a chance to throw up an elbow. In
the center of the crowd, Duke stands with his head down. I don’t
even think about it as my feet carry me over to him.
Stopping a foot away, I
stand awkwardly, unsure what I should be doing. In the back of my
head I think I want to tell him that we’re done, but I can’t quite
bring myself to feel the words. At least, I know I should. But then
he lifts his head, and the way he looks, so sullen with his mouth
turned downward and his eyes empty, I can’t bring myself to hate
him, even though I want to.
“ Gonna
pick a fight?” he snaps. I flinch, realizing what Chel meant about
them being charged, then narrow my eyes. I take a deep breath and
remind myself of the talk Diesel and I had last
night. Not in public.
“ We need to talk,” I say.
He waits a moment before nodding his head and reaching out for me
with his arm. I take the step forward and welcome the way he wraps
his arm around my waist, holding me close. The crowd scatters now
that the fun is over, and the few people who hang around seem to be
primarily on-hand on case shit starts up again.
We turn to walk into the
clubhouse when Duke’s eyes catch sight of something near the picnic
table. I follow his gaze, and my stomach feels like a thousand
butterflies are let loose at once. Directly in the line of Duke’s
sight is Jeremy. He’s leaning up against that same fucking bike
again, which I now recognize as Duke’s. He’s locked eyes with Duke,
and his shoulders are straight. He’s always trying to prove how
tough he is at school, and he’s always trying to show me how he can
be the man of the house at home. And now here in front of the club
he’s trying to be the man he thinks he’s already become. But he’s
not, and suddenly I’m horrified for a whole new reason.
“ Are you on my fucking
bike?” Duke asks. He removes his arm from my waist and rolls his
shoulders as he strides toward Jeremy, leaving me behind. I scurry
to catch up with Duke, but it’s too late. He’s already reached my
asshat brother, who has his chin stuck up in the air like he’s an
O.G. or something. Idiot.
“ I like the paint job,”
Jeremy says, giving the gas tank a pat. The air is forcibly sucked
out of my lungs, and the entire world disappears with the exception
of Duke and Jeremy.
“ Off,” Duke says, hitching
his thumb backward. “Before I break your fucking
kneecaps.”
“ Chill,” Jeremy says and
gives Duke an incredulous look. As he pushes off the bike, a
grating, scratching sound sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t
move a muscle, nor do I take in a breath. Very slowly, Duke moves
toward his bike and shoves Jeremy to the side. Before I can react,
Duke’s got Jeremy by the collar of his tee shirt, and he’s holding
him so they stand nose to nose.
“ You scratched,” he says
very slowly, “my bike.”
“ Sorry?” Jeremy says in a
casual way, like it’s a question he doesn’t really care about.
Before Dad went away, he tried to teach Jeremy what it means to be
a man, and part of that lesson was to never back down. Only bitches
back down, and no son of his is a bitch. Actually, no daughter of
his is to back down, either. But Dad isn’t 5’5” and barely a buck
twenty. When you’re my size and going up against someone Duke’s
size, it’s totally okay to back down and plead for mercy. It might
even be okay to beg, I think. But does Jeremy do any of those
things?
No.
He smirks.
He fucking smirks.
“ You’re going to pay for
this,
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