I’d noticed that.
“I think she’s a tad jealous,” I told her. “It’s like she didn’t think I made any friends or anything had changed since the day I’d gone inside. She picked right back up where we’d left off the day that I was released as if not a single day had gone by. It’s almost as if she’s scared to broach the topic.”
“She still blames herself,” Ruthie finally said, finishing the last of her shake.
How she’d been able to down something like that – so thick and cold – in under three minutes, I didn’t know.
But it sure was fun to watch her do it.
“I think she does and she doesn’t. I think she feels guilty for living her life when I couldn’t live mine. She’s also worried that I’ll get mad at the fact that she and my brother married,” I told her.
“Are you sure she won’t mind me staying with you?” She asked worriedly.
I shook my head.
“No, she won’t mind. Then again, that place where they’re living is technically mine. Something that Bristol informed me of when she picked me up,” I explained, bringing my glass of water up to my lips.
“I don’t fuckin’ care if you’re not serving breakfast anymore. If you don’t give me some of your biscuits, I’ll literally have a new asshole made for me by my extremely pregnant wife. Seriously, just two is fine. Please!” A man’s annoyed voice pleaded.
“We don’t have any more. I’m sorry, sir,” the old woman behind the counter said, not sounding sorry in the least.
Ruthie and I looked up to find a dark haired man with even darker eyes looking at the waitress with a frown on his face.
“We took the last ones,” Ruthie said, pointing down at the biscuits we’d just been given.
I looked down at the succulent morsels, and my stomach growled.
We’d gotten to the diner about ten minutes before they’d stopped serving breakfast, and we’d never gotten any jelly, so we’d yet to eat them.
But seeing the pleading look in the man’s eyes, I stood from the table and made my way to him with the biscuits in my arms.
The real reason I’d even contemplated giving them away was the leather vest, or what Silas like to call a ‘cut,’ on his back.
He was a Dixie Warden.
And the name on his vest declared him to be ‘Cleo.’
I vaguely recognized him as someone I’d seen at the clubhouse Silas had dragged me to last week, and I knew what I had to do.
“’Scuse me,” I said.
The man’s dark eyes turned to me, then dropped to the biscuits in my hand.
“You can have them,” I said.
His eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
I barely contained the urge to snort.
“Because you’re wearing that,” I said, pointing to the cut but not touching it.
I’d gotten a lesson in that, too.
Apparently a brother’s ‘colors’ were sacred.
No one was supposed to touch them unless they were intimately involved with the man wearing them, such as a significant other or an ‘old lady’, as Silas had called it.
“What’s your name?” He asked, eyes narrowing.
I smiled.
“Sawyer Berry.”
Recognition flared in his eyes. “You’re Silas’.”
I cocked my head. “How do you know that?”
He grinned. “The whole fucking city knows. When Silas wants something known, he makes it known. Plus, I saw you at the clubhouse last week. Thanks for the biscuits.”
Then he took the biscuits from my hand, and I was left standing there stunned.
It’d only been a few hours since my brother had found out about us.
Now, supposedly the whole town knew? Holy shit!
Chapter 15
I don’t have a reason to be politically correct anymore. There’s no one left I want to impress.
-Silas
Silas
“Are you sure I should be here?” Sawyer whispered worriedly.
I gave her a look.
“Why shouldn’t you be here?” I asked, laughter evident in my voice.
I was taking her to a club party for the first time, and she was nervous.
So nervous that she had a death grip on my hand.
I stopped just before we made it to the door, pulling her to the left of it, and pinning her against the wall next to it with my body.
“What’s the deal, honey?” I asked, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her head.
“What if they all know me…what I did?” She whispered, her eyes haunted.
I placed my hand against her smooth skin, rubbing the apple of her cheek with my thumb.
“So what if they do? Do you think they’re all saints, that no one in there’s ever done anything wrong?” I asked her.
She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.
“I just want them to like me,” she explained.
I nodded. “And they will. It’s hard not to like you, darlin.’ You’re a good person; don’t let anyone else tell you differently.”
She face planted into my chest, and I laughed.
“Come on,” I said, lifting her face away from my chest and setting her back a little further. “Let’s go inside so you can meet my family.”