Back at the house, I try to talk to her again, but she isn’t up for conversation. I fight the urge to walk her into the house and make sure Ruby and Jim don’t catch her. She looks fucked all right, and she’s going through the front door. There are three other entrances better suited for sneaking into that house, but she’s obviously not even thinking about that. Maybe she wants to get caught. Either way, I let it go and get back on my bike with my helmet—that’s now toast thanks to Princess dropping it—on my head, and ride slowly back to Nic’s house. Princess can’t have known she was going to be treated like a filthy whore when she got on Trigger’s bike. She can’t have known how entirely fucked her night would turn. My mind wanders back to Nic. She was barely nineteen when she started hanging with the club. Her dad had been inside for about three years at that point, and she’d spent two of those years trying to take care of her brother on her own after she stopped letting Ruby and Jim help her out. She’s always been a stubborn thing, and we let her do it. We blew it—every single one of us.
God, she was so fucking young. She’s still young. Did she know that first party what it meant to be a Lost Girl? Did she have any goddamn idea that she’d become pussy with legs? The thought of Nic feeling as used as Princess does right now sends a shiver up my spine and makes my gut feel like lead. I don’t want either of those chicks to feel like that ever again, but there’s nothing I can really do about Princess until she gives up on this fantasy of being with Trigger. But Nic? I got that covered.
I cut my bike down the street and walk her the rest of the way. I don’t want Jeremy to hear me coming if he’s out and about. I want to know if he took my warning seriously. If he didn’t, I’m going to be in for a much longer night. And I still haven’t eaten. Fuck. I need food. I pull her up into the driveway and toss my helmet to the side. I’ll have to see about getting a new one tomorrow.
The house is silent, and all of the lights are off. It’s a welcome change from what I came home to earlier. The front door is unlocked when I walk in, and I say a quiet thank you to Nic, even though I know she can’t hear me, and lock the doors behind me. Walking down the hall to her bedroom, I slowly open the door and find myself met by near total darkness. A window on the side of the house streams a little yellow light in from the street lights outside. Still, I can’t really see where anything is, and I’m trying not to wake her up. But I’m not quiet enough.
The room brightens just slightly by the click of a table lamp. Straight ahead, Nic’s sitting up in her king-sized bed, the covers pulled up to her waist and her hair a total mess. She lets out a big yawn and smacks her lips, blinking at the light. A smile overtakes my face at the sight. Suddenly, I’m not so hungry for food anymore.
“You’re back,” she says, like she wasn’t expecting it. Maybe she wasn’t. From the look on her face, she wasn’t expecting me. I click the door shut behind me and step into the room. Kicking my boots off and then my socks. I take my cut off and set it on the chest at the foot of the bed. Nic watches as I pull my tee shirt off over my head and then start working on my belt buckle.
“I said I’d be back, baby,” I say quietly. Her eyes dart down to my belt buckle then up to my face again. She’s not protesting or even complaining about me waking her up. She’s just quiet and watchful. As much as I like her fiesty side, I’m starting to really like this side that I didn’t know existed. Sliding my jeans down to the floor, I kick them out of the way and walk to Nic’s side of the bed. Her neck cranes back to look up at me. I sit down on the side of the bed and twist my torso to face her. Placing my hands on either side of her legs, I search her eyes for something that tells me I’m not making a total fucking jackass out of myself right now. She’s so guarded that I can’t really make anything out for sure.
“When I say I’m coming back, that means I’m coming back. When I tell you that you’re my girl that means you’re my fucking girl. When I call you my Old Lady, don’t question it. Got it?” She looks away for a moment then brings her face back up to mine.
“I don’t believe you,” she says. Her honesty practically crushes me, and I have to fight to keep myself upright. I just want to sink into the mattress and call it a fucking day. I don’t know what I can do to show her that I’m serious. “One day, you won’t be back.”