Under Locke(147)

The man who detailed his already beautiful body with even more gorgeous tattoos said that to me? I was torn in that split second between wanting to cry and accepting the fact that realistically, I was well on my way to being more than halfway in love with him. With him and his harsh words, and possessive touches, and quick temper.



Holy shit.



I was in love with The Dick.



I blinked again. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.



Don't cry, Iris!



I nodded to myself; I could do this. I could keep it together.



"I know. I know, trust me. I know that I’m one of the lucky ones." I slid my hand from his stomach up to his neck, touching the silky flesh there with nervous fingers. "But I've lived most of my life being 'that cancer kid'. I didn't want to be that person here too. I wanted you guys to like me for me not because of this."



It was Dex's turn to blink a slow draw of ink colored eyelashes that were too long for such a masculine face. "Babe, I think you got some of the worst luck I've ever heard of." He touched the tip of my nose with his index finger. "When I first saw ya, I saw a pretty little girl who got her bro to find her a job. A little girl who didn't grow up a Widow like the rest of us. Now, I know you. I know that you've gone through just as much shit, if not more, than the rest of us. You've survived a hell of a lot, Ritz. Your pa, your ma, your nana, and raisin' your bro on top of this," his thumb touched the edge of my scarring.



And then he blinked again. Once, twice, three times, and I swear, I swear, I swear that his eyes looked glassy between those eyelash flutters.



"And here you are. Life bein' unfair and all. I respect you, babe. Not just because you break my goddamn heart every single fuckin' time I see you smile but because..." He blew out a long breath of air from his lips, blinking blue eyes again and again and again. "I just do. You got me?"



I didn't. Not really. This feeling in my chest swelled and swelled to a size that made it painful to breathe. But I nodded anyway.



"I fuckin' wish you would’ve told me before you told everybody though," he admitted in a low voice. "Thought I was gonna throw up on the fuckin' table."



I cringed and ducked my face under his chin, nose to the raspy column of his throat. Slim's hurt face at the bar flashed through my brain. I didn't piss people off that often but when I did, I pissed everyone around me off. Ugh.



"Hopefully there won't be anything else for me to tell you anytime soon. I've told you more than I've told anybody else ever. Even Sonny." I sighed. Another person I pissed off. The one person who rarely ever got mad at me. "The last time I had to get radiation, I didn't tell him until I was almost done with treatment. He was so mad at me, Charlie. I thought for sure I wouldn't hear from him again."



Fingers tapped across my hip. "Was that right after his ma’s car wreck?"



"Yeah. That's part of the reason why I didn't tell him. He was already so stressed about her accident, and he'd taken off so much time from work. I didn't want to make things worse for him," I explained.



Dex hummed deep in his throat. Those long, artistic fingers tap danced across my pelvis. "Makes sense now. I remember him losin' his shit a few years ago. Trashed his place, got into a fight with half the Club. He was a fuckin' dick ‘til he took off. Didn't tell any of us where he was goin'."



Whoa. I had no idea he'd done all that. He'd shown up to yia-yia's house with bruised knuckles but I'd been so worried about our relationship, it just hadn't seemed like the time to push. "He came to stay with us for about a month. Now he's mad because I didn't tell him about going to Busty's."



"He'll get over it," Dex said, squeezing my hip.



"Eventually."



He hummed again. "He's mad but he'll get over it. You just gotta quit keepin' shit to yourself."



"I know." I sighed. "I know. I won't. Not to any of you again."



Those familiar fingers, tipped in black ink, threaded through mine and he growled, "You better not."





Chapter Thirty-Two



I was torn between wanting to kill Luther and giving him a hug.



The only thing keeping me from figuring out a way to overflow his toilet was the fact that there had been quinoa patties waiting for me on his kitchen island. Because I mean, they were quinoa patties. Someone, somewhere had made these and I doubted that the Club had any other vegetarians in their crew besides me from the stink old Pete had made with the black bean burgers.



So for that, he'd live and his toilet would survive to see another day.



But for inviting that Becky girl and a handful of other women that gave Dex the googley eyes when their dates weren't looking—Luther would suffer imaginary torture.