He takes a deep breath before he continues. “Few months back, Jennings came by the house to clear something up with Nic. I was watching TV and kept turning the volume up because they started yelling at each other. I didn’t want to be bothered by it. Her drama was an inconvenience. I didn’t even like what I was watching, but she was a fucking inconvenience.” His words don’t come out spiteful but rather remorseful. The shame that radiates through his voice is something I’ve never heard before. Forsaken don’t express shame or regret much, because it would mean they did something wrong, and that’s not something any of them are comfortable expressing. Even Aunt Ruby has a hard time saying she’s sorry. I guess in a way I’m as much Forsaken as the rest of them, because I don’t do great with I’m sorry either.
“I hear this crash and get up to tell the assholes to keep it down because he’s fucking up my night. As it was, I was already having a bad fucking night. It was the day I found out Nic was knocked up and accidentally spilled that shit to Duke before she had a chance to tell him. That did not go over well.” He takes a break from talking and places a kiss to the side of my head before continuing. A shiver runs up my spine, likely from the cold but possibly from the conversation. “I get in the hallway and all I can see is this preppy bastard standing with his back to me. He’s got my goddamn sister—my sister who doesn’t let anybody fuck with her—on the fucking floor. She’s on her knees, holding her stomach and sobbing. He has a hand in her hair and the other holding his dick. By the time I get ahold of him, he’s got his fucking dick shoved against her lips. She’s fucking sobbing and refusing to open her mouth, and he’s just fucking forcing himself on her.”
My heart breaks for Nic as tears slip down my cheeks. Every word Jeremy speaks is annunciated and sounds more painful than the last. He leans over, eyeing my face. Turning my head to him, I stare into his eyes and let the tears fall freely. I’d rather he not know I’m crying, but I think he wants to see it so he knows I’m listening and absorbing what he’s telling me.
“I wanted to kill him,” he says.
“Forsaken did it.” I’d already figured it out, but feel the need to verbalize my findings. Everything becomes so much clearer. Every time Jeremy would get annoyed at the news reports and how Dad would just turn off the TV and tell me to ignore it make so much sense. Jeremy just nods.
“I beat the guy down and got Nic’s keys from her. Shoved him in the trunk and took him to the clubhouse. I wanted him dead, but he hurt Duke’s woman, so it wasn’t my call.”
“That’s why they let you prospect early, isn’t it?” I ask. He nods again. I knew he had to have done something impressive for the club to give him a cut before he was legal. That’s always been the rules—nobody underage prospects. But then... Jeremy. And knowing he’s the youngest to ever prospect for the MC—in its entire history—made him desirable instantly. Getting to know this side of him is big trouble for me, because I’m getting sucked into him quickly.
“We’re at the clubhouse, and Wyatt—the fucking VP—looks at me and says, ‘Show me you got enough heart for this club,’ and has me hold Jennings’s head up while Knuck and Diesel held the fucker in place. Nobody wanted Nic to see the shit that was about to go down, but Duke fucking brought her in anyway and let her have first crack. She fucked him up good, and it looked painful, too. But the shit she was saying, like she was repeating Jennings’s words back to him? I won’t forget that shit. Not ever.”
We’re silent a long moment before Jeremy gives me a squeeze and whispers, “So after Nic’s done fucking him up, Duke takes his turn. Gotta tell ya, I’ve never respected the dude more than in that moment. He fixed my sister’s shit when I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper because I don’t know what else to say.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m going to do right by you. I won’t let that shit happen to you.”
“What exactly did he do?” My voice falls so quiet I’m not sure he hears me over the ocean.
He clears his throat and buries his face in my neck as he whispers, “He raped her. More than once. He beat her, too. I used to see the bruises when I was younger, but she’d say she got into another fight with some random chick when I asked. He never gave me reason to really think he was hurting her.”
“It’s hard to picture your sister like that.” Because I don’t know Nic any other way.
“Right?” he says, his mood lifting slightly. “Pissed her off once, and she shoved me in the fucking closet and locked it until I cooled down.”
“What?” I ask, letting out a small laugh. I just want to forget everything he’s said before that. I’ve always known a large part of my dad’s job involves violence and intimidation, but hearing the details of it is startling. Yeah, he’s got a loud bark and he can be a serious asshole, but he’s still just my dad. He’s the man who taught me to dance and played tea party with me. I’m not allowed to talk about it, but he did it. He’s the guy who holds Holly while she cries herself to sleep some nights, and he’s the man who never lets me forget how loved I am. The man who watches a person—even a disgusting parasite like Darren Jennings—be beaten within an inch of his life isn’t the man I know. But I guess that’s how they all are. There’s always two sides to Forsaken men.