Wed to the Bad Boy(83)

“Honestly? I don’t know. You and I, we have a past that we can’t repeat, Cullen.”

He nodded like he agreed, but even as I said it, I wanted to take it back. I wanted to repeat that past.

“I don’t know that I can do much about that, Lala. When I look at you—”

“Fuck.”

“He was proud of you, you know.” Cullen’s voice was low, quiet. “Sean.”

I should have taken solace in that, but it just made me so damn angry.

“Yeah, well, maybe if I stayed he wouldn’t have wound up dead.” I bit back the tears that were threatening to fall. I’d spent the whole day crying. I didn’t want to do it here, now, in front of him.

After we’d both finished our drinks in silence, he looked around.

“Let’s get out of here.” He waved to the bartender on our way out.

“Wait, don’t you have to—“

“Price included in our protection.” He wasn’t smirking now. He looked angry. It felt like there was something—guilt, resentment—right there beneath the surface.

The fury was building.

There was a reason they called him Rage. He was calm and cool until all of a sudden he wasn’t, like a tornado that touches down out of a calm sky. And I was the only one who could read him. The only one who could predict the coming storm.

I didn’t ask any questions. I just followed him back to his bike and hopped on, putting on his helmet as he peeled out of the gravel driveway.

The memory of my brother hung over us like a cloud, reminding us of everything we’d lost.

Of what we could never have.

I didn’t want to sit and talk. I didn’t want to be around people. I just wanted to get lost in the ride.

***

We drove down alongside the Monongahela River until we reached an industrial complex, then we pulled into it and parked so that we could look out over the river.

It was the same river that ran through Braddock and provided the steel mill transportation for its coal. But here it was used for something else, probably shipping goods from factory to factory.

Hell, even this late there were people in their boats just floating down the river.

The one that reminded me I was home.

“I like to come out her on my rounds sometimes. There’s so much out there. It reminds me I’m small.

He pulled the helmet off and let me brace on him to get off the bike.

“It’s my fault, Layla. My fault he’s dead. Not yours. I shouldn’t have gone when Bones called me. I should’ve made Sean go. Then it’d be me instead of him. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I’ll never know.”

It was the first time he’d said those words aloud. I could tell by the pain in his eyes that surfaced as he said them. He meant it.

But I knew that wasn’t true.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of whoever killed him. Not mine. Not yours. There was nothing we could do. We can’t turn back the clocks and change it, Cullen. We can’t do anything except mourn him.”

“Oh, there’s something we can do. We can get revenge.”

I knew retribution was part of the cost of living in the club, but I didn’t want to see this turn into a war. There’d been enough killing, and if it was caused by another group, there was going to be a lot more death when it was all over.

I didn’t look at Sean’s death as something that should be repeated. Revenge was just an excuse to dominate.

But I couldn’t tell Cullen that. I knew him too well. Avenging my brother was the only thing that was keeping him going. He would find Sean’s killer and dole out justice. Or what he thought was justice.

But would he survive in the end? And if he did, would he still be Cullen? Or just Rage? I understood that he was both. Now. Who would he be when this was over?

“You do what you need to do to bring you peace. I’ve got to find it my own way.” It was the only thing I could think to say. I wasn’t expecting was what he did next.

Without a word, he pulled me to him, his arms warm and strong around me.

It was the first real touch I’d felt in a very long time. People hugged me, but no one embraced me. Not like that. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t care.

It was just like he used to hold me when we were together. When we were kids. Like were drowning and burning at once. Holding onto each other for dear life.

I did the only thing I could think of. I clung to him and I let myself feel the fear and the burn and thrill. I held on for dear life while we stole one another’s breath.

And then I cried. Right there in the middle of a dimly-lit parking lot against his shoulder while the river raged on.

I thought he would back away, or say something. Instead, he held me tight, and I felt like he might never let go.