The spare room is identical in size to Duke’s and has close to the same furniture—bed, side table, and a dresser. I crawl onto the bed and curl into the corner, grabbing one of the two pillows and hugging it. Diesel shuts the door and walks over. He sits down on the edge of the bed and clasps his hands together. His voice is deep when he coughs, likely clearing his lungs from toking up on the bong. He reeks of weed. “What happened?” he asks.
“You don’t want to know,” I say. The truth is that Diesel never asks questions he doesn’t want an answer to, so if he’s asking me what happened, he actually gives a shit. I blow out a breath and hug the pillow tighter, like maybe if I keep squeezing, it’ll provide some kind of comfort. It doesn’t.
“Tell me,” he says. I could ask him to leave me alone to let me cry it out, but I don’t want to shed a single tear over that bastard. I give myself a moment to collect my thoughts before I speak.
“Duke’s in the game room with Dawn,” I say. Taking a few more deep breaths, I clear my head and just spill it all like this huge, tattooed, muscled man with the shaved head is Chel and we’re out to breakfast talking shit. “He fucked me and claimed me, and that was months ago. So I did as I was supposed to do and I stayed away from the club, but that crap this morning at my work? Then the crap this afternoon. I just… I’m done. And after every awful, horrible, fucked up, mean thing he did I still came here looking for him.”
“Dick,” Diesel says with a nod of his head. He turns toward me and scratches behind his neck. I let out a frustrated laugh and let my arms flutter into the air.
“You’re preaching to the choir,” I say. “I just... I don’t get it.”
“This one of those things where you just want to bitch about shit, or you want it fixed?” he asks.
“Fixed, but I got a feeling I’m not going to like your proposed solution,” I admit.
“No, you won’t,” he says. “But at least you’ll have an idea what you’re looking at if you stay with him.”
“I’m not staying with him,” I say. Giving the pillow a punch, I look up at Diesel. He wears a flat expression on his face.
“Who you bullshitting?” he asks. “You know how this shit works, babe. He’s Forsaken. You didn’t pick him, he picked you. Sorry you don’t like it. So pick another club, fuckin’ hook your ass up with a civilian. We both know that won’t work out.”
“And if I don’t want to be with him?”
“You want my help or not? Lie to whoever the fuck you want, but not the guy who gave up freaky pussy to sit here and listen to you bitch about your fucking relationship.” Silence falls between us, and I let myself stare off into space. I need a few minutes to chill. Diesel’s right. I may not like what he’s saying, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And he’s no Duke. There’s only so much I can get away with with him, so instead of pushing it like I want to, I just let the room get silent.
“Rolled your eyes at him this morning, then said whatever when he gave you an order. Not good. Thing is, you didn’t start partying with the club not knowing the score. Not like this was an accident for you. You’ve got this club in your blood.”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this,” I say in almost a plea. This doesn’t feel like helping. This feels like a damn lecture. I’m not an obstinate child who needs to be reprimanded.
“Way you two handle your shit in private is up to you, but you cop that kind of attitude in public and the boys will never vote you in. It’s just the truth. We got rules for a reason, Nic. Can’t go about breaking them, no matter whose kid you are.”
“I feel like I can’t breathe,” I say, because that’s what it feels like—him telling me I can’t have my voice. Beyond hate, I loathe the message he’s trying to get across. “He just…”
“Only way this club works is for everybody to be on the same page. Why do you think we vote on a brother’s Old Lady? Because you being my brother’s girl is a big fucking deal. Means you’re not just his responsibility, you’re mine. Somebody fucks with you, they fuck with me. They fuck with all of us. Can’t take that shit lightly.”
“I get that,” I say quietly.
“Do you?” he says. “Being the club’s responsibility means that shit goes down and we put our asses on the line for you. Our wives, kids, our mothers—they take a step back if you’re in trouble if we vote you in. You get that? That means I’d die for you.”
“Wow,” I say and then huff. “You’re good at spinning a situation, aren’t you?”
“No spin, promise,” he says. “Straight up fact. That kind of commitment? Deserves a little more respect.”
“Two months, Diesel. Two months,” I respond flatly.
“That was fucked, no doubt. He needed his asshole ripped the fuck apart over that,” he says. For just a moment, I think he’s on my side, but then he says, “Privately. Don’t care that he was being a dick. That wasn’t cool, girl. Made his dick feel fuckin’ tiny, no doubt.”