Doc (Ruthless Kings MC #7) - K.L. Savage Page 0,21

I feel his plump pink lips on mine, I’ll want them again and again. I have too much to deal with and dealing with more feelings than I already have for him is something I can’t handle.

He leans his forehead against mine, and the break in connection has me remembering how to breathe again. “You have no idea how seeing you like that made me feel, Jo. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get it out of my head.” He cups the back of my head with his hand, and his minty breath ghosts over the tip of my nose. “I thought you were dead.”

“I wanted to be,” I admit, pulling away from him, and it’s like I’m creating a rift. I’m causing the space between us. I know he means well, and I know he wants to be my friend, but I can’t. “I still want to, Eric.”

He sits up, shock written all over his face, and his blue eyes are as wide as saucers. He scoffs and shakes his head. “What?” he gasps in disbelief, and then makes a few gestures with his hand. His brows are curled in the middle, and his cheeks turn red.

“You’re angry,” I notice.

“I’m trying not to be. I’m trying not to be selfish, but aside from my knowledge as a doctor, because medically—I get it. As your friend? Jo…” He takes my hand in his, and the first thing I notice is how big his palm is. He has a few old scars crisscrossed around his knuckles, like he hit something a few too many times, but other than that, his arms are golden, kissed by the sun itself. His hair is a dirty brownish blond, something in between. When the light hits it, I can see natural blond highlights, but when it’s a little darker, like it is now, it looks brown. “Jo, please.” He doesn’t give me a reason; he stares at me with sad ocean eyes.

An angel doesn’t come in white wings and a halo; they come disguised as the person you need most. The problem here is me. I’ll be the reason his good is tainted and inked in darkness, and I can’t be to blame for that. I’m too much for someone to handle.

I’ve heard that my entire life, and I’m not about to become a burden for someone else to dump. I know how it sounds. Pity me, pathetic Joanna, always looking for attention with her sad bullshit. I’m not trying to throw a pity party. I’m not seeking attention. I’m just trying to get some peace. Growing up, it was just me and my father. We lived in a rundown trailer park, and everyone pointed out how I was trailer trash, the girl with dirty clothes and a drunk dad who liked to hit me more times than not.

He hated me.

He hated me so much, he sold me to the Ruthless Kings in Jersey so he could finally have a pay day. I’m just done.

I hate living. I hate going day by day and never feeling like I do enough. I’m tired of feeling like a stain in this world. The Earth will still spin, people will move on, and Eric will see he’s better off. It’s not like we talk much anyway. I only ever talk to any of the Ruthless Kings when I go to the clubhouse for school breaks.

Everyone avoids me.

It’s like I’m a disease, some sort of plague, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t wash it off.

I’m not sad about dying. I’m sad about trying so hard to live a good life when nothing good ever comes of it. Everywhere I turn, it’s another hit I have to take. It’s life, but you know what I’ve learned? Life isn’t supposed to be this hard. It isn’t supposed to be a constant struggle. It shouldn’t be about trying to get away from the abuse all the time. It’s supposed to be filled with some love, with moments of happiness. I see people living good lives, like the people in the club, laughing, holding hands, having fun, and I’ve never had that.

I’ve always had this looming shadow following me, and it has fed off me for far too long.

Life. Isn’t. Supposed. To. Be. So. Hard.

It’s a chant I repeat in my head every day when I’m swallowing my anti-depressants. Pills that don’t even work.

Obviously.

“Jo—” Eric is interrupted when the door opens, and a doctor with big eyes enlarged