“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, shithead,” Duke says and shoves Jeremy away. The second I see the opening, I stand in front of my brother and stare up at Duke. He grits his teeth and, with rage in his eyes, says, “Move.”
Knowing that this could turn out to be a very bad idea, I take a step closer to Duke and place my hand on his chest. Leaning in, I say, “Please, we need to check your head.”
Duke shakes his head and pushes slightly against my hand. Being sweet is all I got in my toolbox to get Duke to chill out enough so that my brother can keep his teeth, and unfortunately for Jeremy’s smile, sweet doesn’t always come easy for me. Stepping off to the side, I remove my hand from his chest, and look at the pavement. Diesel said I just have to do better and demand better of Duke, and that’s all I really got. So I bite back my temper and gently place my hand on Duke’s back. His muscles tense at the contact. I keep my hand still, but make circles over his cut with my thumb. It takes a good, long minute before the tension dissipates and he screams, “Fuck!”
“He’s lucky he’s your brother or he’d be in the emergency room right now,” he says without taking his eyes off Jeremy. The words are clearly meant for me, so I give him an “I know, baby,” Grady strides up and grabs a hold of Jeremy by the back of his neck, giving him a menacing grin.
“I’ll babysit while you two talk your shit out,” Grady says then drags Jeremy, who’s finally catching on that he did something wrong, into the clubhouse.
Duke turns around and stares at me with a blank expression. I move slowly, reaching out and taking his hand. With a quick squeeze, he moves forward, and we walk into the clubhouse, hand-in-hand.
I’m sick of the walk down the hall to his room. Nothing good ever comes of us going to his room, but I have orders from Grady, and I don’t want to be the next person he babysits after he gets done with Jeremy. As far a I’m concerned, Grady and I can be like ships passing in the night. This time, though, it’s different. I lead the way, and I’m the one to open the door. I’m the one who waits until Duke walks in, and then I shut the door behind me.
He says nothing at first. He just walks to the dresser in the corner and places his hands on the edge, shoulder-width apart, and leans in. When he finally stops huffing and puffing like he’s a character out of The Three Little Pigs, he says, “My bike. He scratched my fucking bike.”
“He fucked up, and I’ll bet he’s paying for it,” I say. I feel like such a traitor, but really, how many times can I cover for his ass?
“My bike,” he says slowly. “There’s no paying for that shit. It’s about respect.” If I wasn’t so infuriated by how dense he is, I would tell him how hypocritical that is with a few choice curse words. Instead, I remain silent because I can’t even get my vocal chords to work right now. Dick.
“Have you taught him nothing?” he snaps. My fists ball up at my sides, and I squeeze my eyes closed for a minute to let out a silent scream.
“I’m trying here,” I say. I can’t stand here and talk about respect with him right now. Try as I might, I still see Dawn in my head, riding his dick, and smirking at me.
“What?” he grinds out and turns toward me with anger still in his eyes. Pushing off the dresser, he closes the distance between us and presses himself up against me while keeping his arms at his sides. “You got something to say, so say it.”
I keep myself steady and refuse to bend to his heavy frame as it pushes against me. “Your bike can be replaced, the scratch can come out. But that shit you pulled last night? That shit won’t come out.”