“I don’t understand.” I feel like I’ve been dropped into the conversation halfway through, because I’m pretty much lost now.
“He likes you,” is his blunt explanation. When my eyebrows pull together in confusion, he shakes his head and purses his lips like he’s thinking about what he wants to say. “More than likes you. Don’t take it for granted, and don’t fuck it up. He chose you and I respect that, but make no mistake about it, babe—you do him dirty and you’ll answer to me.” I narrow my eyes, and he leans in closer. His rank breath washes over my face.
“I won’t hesitate to slit your fucking throat if you fuck my brother over.”
I tilt my chin up, closer to his ear and lean in so we’re chest to chest. He’s taller than me by several inches, but I don’t care. He’s going to hear what I have to say, and that’s all that matters.
“Threatening somebody with death only works if they’re afraid of dying.” I say the words slowly and with purpose, meaning every single one. If he wanted to scare me, he should have threatened to take away something that matters to me—like Ian.
The front door opens just as I shove past Ryan, clipping him with my shoulder as I make my way to greet Ruby. She’s got on a faded black shirt and cutoff jean shorts. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she’s holding a coffee mug in her hands. She narrows her eyes at Ryan but then redirects her attention to me. She softens her gaze as I approach and ushers me inside, shutting the door behind us.
Chapter 14
Every car sounds the same. Either that or I’m half-deaf, because as I’ve been standing at the edge of my parents’ front lawn, I’ve mistaken a pickup truck, a Harley, a Prius, and a minivan for Ruby’s SUV. Well, in all fairness, I didn’t really hear the Prius. Those things are damn quiet, but when it drove by, I had a moment when I thought it was Ruby. It didn’t matter that the Prius is less than half the size of the damn Suburban.
I should have told Ruby that I’d drive myself to the clubhouse. I can drive. I just usually choose not to. After that night, it was more or less because the idea of having the ability to drive off a cliff was far too tempting. Everybody said the feeling would pass. And I guess it has. I no longer want to find a way to end the pain. Now I just feel too uncomfortable with the disturbing thoughts that invade my brain.
Somebody didn’t use their blinker the other day, and I had to fight back the knee-jerk reaction to slam into their bumper. A man honked his horn at me when I was on my way to the grocery store yesterday because I’d taken too long responding to the light that had just turned from red to green. I flipped him off and sat there, refusing to move. He had to back up because he was so close up my ass and then moved around me to make the light before it turned back to red. He screamed a few obscenities at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to get angry. So I smiled as he glared at me, red-faced and nearly out of breath with his anger. My anger may have been hidden beneath the surface, but it scares me.
It terrifies me how easy it is now. The terror and frustration gave way to sadness and self-pity at some point. The self-pity and fright were all-consuming. Once I fought my way through it, I thought I could level out. I thought that maybe I could be normal again. But that hasn’t happened. Sometimes I don’t like what I see. I’m spiraling out, becoming somebody I don’t recognize, and she’s not somebody my mother would be proud of. But when I have those thoughts, it’s never my voice in my head. It’s my mom’s voice. Other times, I feel empowered by my anger. I don’t recognize myself, but that just excites me even more.
It’s freeing, being so angry, so fed up. In those times, when I can’t bring myself to give a single fuck, I find myself thinking more clearly than I ever have before. All of life’s little gray areas either darken or lighten, and everything is black and white. There is right and wrong, but none of it matters. The only things that matter are what matters to me. It’s selfish and hateful. And I love it. I want more of it.
So I choose not to drive. Because one day, I’m afraid of really hurting somebody. And I’m afraid when I do, I won’t care. And when that happens, who am I? So I accepted Ruby’s offer to drive me to the clubhouse for my first day of work. It’s not like she gave me much choice in the matter. Our entire conversation consisted of her giving me a single line of advice and then asking what I wanted. I don’t know that she was happy to see me. I couldn’t tell. It was just awkward.