The Gritty Truth (The Whiskeys Dark Knights at Peaceful Harbor #7) - Melissa Foster Page 0,10
it feel?”
“Like I was sitting there naked.”
He remembered that feeling all too well, but feeling vulnerable was so much better than being wasted. “That about sums it up, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but it also felt good, you know? Getting it out there. I still can’t believe the things I did, the way I treated people. The way I treated myself.”
“Recovery is not for the weak. We need clarity in order to accept what we did and find ways to forgive ourselves so we can move forward. We’ve all been there. Just remember, we are all far from perfect. That guy in the suit you talked about? He’s no better than you. In fact, he’s worse. He took advantage of your drugged-up state, and now you’re done with drugs. You’re working to better yourself, and he’s probably still paying for sex.”
Her lips curved up gratefully. “You always say things that make it easy to believe I wasn’t a bad person.”
“My sister-in-law once told me that even good people do bad things. I didn’t believe it then as wholly as I do now, but I draw upon her words often. They’re simple, but they’re true, and a good reminder when things get tough.”
“I’ll remember that. Thank you. I’m going to do this, Quincy,” she said vehemently. “I’ve never had anyone to turn to, and I appreciate you helping me get into rehab and set up at the women’s shelter. I got a job at a convenience store that’s on the bus line that goes by the shelter. I start tomorrow.”
“That’s fantastic.” He’d rather she worked in Peaceful Harbor, where the Dark Knights had been patrolling like rabid watchdogs for generations. Puck wouldn’t dare cross the bridge into Peaceful Harbor. But he’d talked with Simone about it a few weeks ago, and the buses didn’t run regularly enough to ensure she could get to and from a job there. Luckily, the Dark Knights also patrolled the area around the Parkvale Women’s Shelter and kept tabs on drug dealers and anyone else who might be a threat to the residents of the shelter. The patrols weren’t as widespread as they were in the Harbor, but at least they had eyes on her.
“Have you heard anything more from Puck or his guys?” Quincy asked.
“No. After what Diesel did to him when he came after me at the shelter, I don’t think he’ll be back.”
Desmond “Diesel” Black was a Nomad, a traveling member of the Dark Knights who didn’t claim any chapter as his own. He was a massive man, with cold dark eyes and absolutely no people skills. He bartended at Whiskey Bro’s when he was in town, which kept trouble out of the bar, and he was in charge of patrolling and coordinating the other Dark Knights who kept watch over the shelter. A man would have to have a death wish to mess with him.
“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you, Quincy. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“Yes, you do,” he said seriously. “You’ll stick with the program, every minute, every hour, every day, and you’ll call me if you need me. I’ve got your back, Sims. Whatever you need, day or night.” He pulled her into an embrace and said, “You can do this. I believe in you.”
RONI WAVED TO the last of the teenage girls from her hip-hop class and locked the studio door behind them. She headed back to the classroom to get her phone, hoping Quincy had texted. Even though they’d never texted on a daily basis, she’d thought she might hear from him after the things he’d said and the way he’d acted on Monday. But she hadn’t heard from him yesterday or today. She told herself to temper the hope that had been building for the last hour and grabbed her phone from the table, deflating at the sight of the blank screen.
With a heavy sigh, she turned off the lights in the classroom and made her way toward the front, turning off the lights in each of the other rooms on her way. She felt stupid for getting her hopes up, but the way he’d looked at her like he didn’t want to miss a second of seeing her had felt special and maybe even intimate.
But what did she know about special and intimate?
A guy like Quincy probably had dozens of friends with benefits.
For the millionth time, she wondered why he was even bothering with her. It wasn’t like she was fantastic at flirting