in and out to miss the damn potholes Reaper refuses to fill. He says they will ‘slow down the enemy’ but honestly, they’re slowing me down from getting to Joanna.
When we get to the end of the dirt road and the pavement is a tire roll away, I think about the last time I saw Jo. Patrick was in the hospital, and I was so fucking worried about her. I hadn’t asked her what was going on because I thought she needed space. I let her go to school while I went back to work for the club, and I regret it.
If I had given in to what I really wanted to do, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
I turn right and head down Loneliest Road. I peek in my rearview to see Tongue behind me, but I hear a few more bikes. Tongue moves to the side, and that’s when I see four more men following me, all Ruthless Kings, my brothers.
They have my back, and they will have Jo’s. They don’t even know why they are following me. The guys know something is wrong. I heard the wheezing in her voice, the pain, the defeat, and the way she sounded was the way I felt for so many years. When my dad died, my nightmare ended, but the memories couldn’t be forgotten since I had dozens of scars on my back to show for them.
She and I have way too much in common when it comes to pain. I’m not afraid to admit that the thought of loving someone, letting them inside and taking root scares me. Someone will own my soul and then tear it to shreds; isn’t that what love does? It fucks you up, makes you second guess everything, makes you want more of this fucked-up merry-go-round of abuse. It’s a form of enslavement to want the love of the person who loves you the least. No matter how hard you try, no matter the good you do, at the end of the day, their love comes with terms and conditions.
It’s the fine print you forget to read before jumping in with two feet, but by the time you want out, it’s too late.
I’ve been stuck in the abusive loop before, and I refuse to make myself weak like that again. I’ve bowed down, I’ve kissed ass, and I’ve begged. I’ve thrown my dignity out the window to gain a minute of peace only to be cut in the next minute.
And you think, maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll be better. Tomorrow, they will love me more. There’s always a tomorrow.
And adding a wound to the wounded is unnecessary roughness.
That feeling when your gut is screaming at you to get out, to leave, that tightness gripping your insides and twisting—listen to it. It’s never wrong. The longer someone waits to save themselves, the deeper the scars will become.
Her school isn’t far, and while she doesn’t come home often, we haven’t bothered her because we thought she was living her best life, away from the club, away from the reasons she’s in pain. We wanted her to get back on her own feet.
A fucking mistake on our end. We gave her too much space when we should’ve been holding her close.
When I should’ve been holding her close.
The thought brings cramps in my chest, but at least in my arms she’d be safe, and she wouldn’t be alone.
Jo, what are you thinking? What did you do?
I tighten my grip on the throttle and speed up, the exhaust popping from the power coursing through the engine. The lone red light comes to view, and we all roll to a slow stop. The desert is a sea of nothing on either side of us, cacti, rocks, snakes, and a few other creatures that I wouldn’t want to come across.
Peering to my right, I see the Vegas skyline and the bustling strip that parties twenty-four hours a day. It’s a fun place to be, a good place to blow off steam, to get laid, and to get drunk. I think back to when we were supposed to go out for Sarah’s birthday, but we never did because shit went down.
Shit is always going down.
“Doc!” Tongue yells at me when the light turns green.
I shake my head and accelerate, letting the wind slash against my cheeks, bringing me to the present. I check my rearview again, and the bikes are closer for me to decipher who it is. Badge, Tank, Slingshot, and Tool.
Five minutes