Chapter 32
Grease
When I left Callie in Sacramento, I was anxious as f*ck to get away from her. I’d wanted her dependent on me, and I loved the fact that she looked at me like she needed me… but the reality of that was a little more than I could handle. Part of me had wanted to stay with her and take care of her, and the other part of me wanted to just get back to where my f*cking world made sense.
By the time I’d pulled up to the club, I was f*cking beat. I barely said hello to the boys before slamming into my room and passing out on the bed. I didn’t want to move for at least twenty-four hours.
The next day, Slider called me into his office to get a rundown on the nonsense down in San Diego, and I had to wait through his ranting and raving before I could try and explain. I knew Poet had already called him, and he was just trying to make a point, but I still walked him through the entire episode. I thought his head was going to explode when I told him about Jose trying to f*ck us over, and when I described the Jimenez boys showing up at Rose’s I saw a vein on his temple throbbing above his clenched jaw. He was pissed.
The rest of the week was pretty uneventful until Callie went radio silent on Friday night. Since I’d arrived at the club on Monday, I’d been giving her a call every night, but doing whatever the f*ck I wanted the rest of the time. I wasn’t going on any runs, and the mechanic shop we ran as a legitimate business was pretty dead, so I didn’t have a lot of work to do.
I was enjoying my freedom, barely thinking about Callie at all, when I called her phone Friday night and she didn’t answer. There were a shit ton of people at the clubhouse that night, so I got distracted for a while, waiting for her to call back, but about an hour later I realized I still hadn’t talked to her.
I spent the rest of that night pacing my room like a p-ssy, getting angrier and angrier that she hadn’t answered her phone or called me back. It was like as soon as I couldn’t get a hold of her I missed her like hell on fire.
At one point, I even called the boys down in Sac to drive by her house and make sure her car was there. Knowing that it was didn’t seem to make a difference because my saddlebags were packed and ready before Slider pulled me aside and told me to suck it the f*ck up.
They’d been watching me lose it the entire night, and they were all laughing at what they called my ‘hysterics’. F*cking pricks. I knew that if it were Vera who wasn’t answering her phone, Slider would be climbing the walls or already halfway to Sacramento by then.
When I finally got a hold of her, I was pissed as hell. If I had been in the same room as her, I don’t know what I would have done.
She calmed me down with that sweet voice of hers, but when she told me she was having trouble sleeping, my anger disappeared. I wanted to make it better for her, but I wasn’t sure how. She wasn’t willing to move where I was, and I sure as shit wasn’t going down to the Sacramento Chapter and leaving all my brothers behind.
Our options were pretty much nonexistent because of her stubbornness, and when I got off the phone, my frustration over being away from her—turned into being frustrated at her.
So even though I knew it was an a*shole move, I distanced myself.
I didn’t call as often as I had before.
I ignored the voice in the back of my head telling me that I missed her and she sure as hell was missing me.
On Monday, after I talked to her, I volunteered for a run.
I completely forgot to call her the day of her parents’ funeral—which made me feel like a complete dick and distance myself even more.
I didn’t know what the f*ck I was doing.
I just kept f*cking up, and I kept waiting for her to call me on it—almost wishing she would bitch me out.
But she didn’t. She just took what I gave her and didn’t make a single noise in complaint.
And that pissed me off even more.
It was no longer enough for her to need me. I wanted her to be willing to fight for me.