The old ladies looked at me, their smiles disappearing. If it was suddenly awkward enough to choke a mule, well, I'd made it that way, and I didn't fucking care.
Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut before he went away? I wished so badly I could've taken it all back.
“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind,” Meg said matter-of-factly, flicking her brown locks over her shoulder.
“I'm sorry, Summer,” Cora said, leaning toward me from behind her. “I shouldn't have rubbed it in. The baby, I mean. I wasn't thinking. You must be worried sick about him...”
Didn't know if she meant Alex or Joker. I wasn't going to ask.
“Don't worry about it,” I snapped, even though part of me wanted her worry. “It's out of my hands now. Same as mama dying one day at a time, same as losing our house, same as Uncle Robby's bar going down. I'm used to taking punches. Never being able to hit back.”
“There's always a way to fight,” Meg said, staring me down. “I was a prisoner once, before Skin saved me. Did more disgusting things than I ever want to think about. Cora here next to me, her daddy took his life. The club helped her big time, saved her from some really awful men, just like the ones all the boys are out there fighting, right now.”
“It can't be that simple,” I said, trying not to let my anger take hold.
“It is. First thing's first, you've got to be honest with yourself.”
I snorted, polishing off my beer in another gulp. “What the hell does that mean?”
Meg hesitated, turning on her stool, until we were completely level. “Means I see a woman in front of me telling herself a lot of lies. Refusing to forgive. Hell, refusing to let herself even cry.” Meg took a pull from her drink while my mouth dropped open, ready to lay into her, but I held my tongue. “It doesn't do you a lick of good to hold it all in. You're hurting. You think you hate him. You're afraid you're never going to see your son again, or his father, and there won't be a chance to sort all this out. I get it. I've been there.”
“You don't know shit,” I lied. Who the hell did she think she was, and where had she gotten the ability to read a stranger's mind?
“You're wrong about that. We both do,” Cora said, eyeballing me with the same stark pity in her big blue eyes.
“I'm not asking for miracles,” Meg said, reaching for my hand. “All I'm asking you to do is be true to yourself. We both know you can't do that unless you quit fighting it, bottling it up. Let yourself breathe.”
Damn her. Even the whores across the bar were watching us now, whispering to each other. I knew I looked like I was about to explode, and give his clubhouse one more drag out fight to soil its walls forever.
“I was a total asshole before he left,” I said slowly, facing them like my own private jury. “I blamed him. Told Joker it was all his fault for losing Alex, for dragging me into this, for breaking my fucking heart when I thought I'd just gotten it back in one piece.”
“And did he scream at you?”
I shook my head. The bitter lump lodged in my throat wouldn't let me breathe anymore, but I tried to hold it. Tried so fucking hard.
“Then he'll forgive you. He knows you didn't mean it,” Cora said softly. “Babe, you can't beat yourself up. Only thing left to do is hang with us through the rest of this, waiting for him to come back. Then you'll talk it out.”
“And he will come home. With your son. They always do, Summer.” Meg grabbed my hand forcefully, refusing to let go, and squeezed. “These men are tough as diamond.”
Tough.
Strong.
Brave.
So many words, fit just right for Joker.
So much for holding it in.
Hot, monstrous tears boiling inside me since Joker walked out broke through. I cried in front of them and the whores, looking like a total mess.
But they weren't wrong. The tears saved me, like pushing poison from a wound.
“The worst part...the worst fucking part...I never got to tell him I loved him.” I just stammered now, collapsed into Meg's arms, surrendering to this stranger.
Maybe she was more familiar than I thought. Maybe they both were.
The two women at my side had done their share of suffering. Even if I didn't know their life stories, I could see it in their eyes.
But they'd both found good in the end. A lot of good, judging by the patches they wore on their matching leather jackets, PROPERTY OF SKIN and PROPERTY OF FIREFLY. So much fulfillment, as Cora's swollen belly showed.
Truth, love, and passion with these men who loved like storms, and stormed out like they loved life itself more than any person should.
I hated it. Hated myself for tearing it to pieces, burying what might've been my last chance to experience just a small part of what they'd had with the men who'd made them theirs.