“I never would’ve brought her here had I known she’d get sucked into the vortex.” My sister’s sad eyes watch her friend sleep.
“I’m so fucking glad you brought her.” Seems my confessions are starting a little earlier than I’d anticipated.
“This is going to change everything,” Molly says.
“Things started changing the day she showed up,” I tell her.
She nods her head softly, reaching down to brush some of Zoe’s hair from her cheek. She doesn’t say another word as she peers down at Zoe. After leaning in to kiss my forehead, she walks away, closing the door quietly behind her.
When did my baby sister grow up? When did she turn into a beautiful, compassionate woman?
Just moments ago she was drooling on her toys and getting on my nerves.
Zoe shifts again, the click of the door enough to make her jolt. Sleepy, sad eyes look up at me.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hi,” I answer like a fool.
“You’re here.”
“Nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.”
She smiles again, shyly dipping her chin so that she’s looking up at me through her eyelashes.
I freeze when her lips press a soft kiss to my heated skin. She’s in that middle ground where what happened earlier seems so unreal she’s convinced herself it never happened, and I’m an asshole for not making her face the dark truth.
My cock thickens at her thigh, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her. I could easily roll her over and sink inside of her. It’s all I want to do, but it’s deceitful. It would be an abuse of whatever power I have over her. I’m tired of using her, hurting her, and praying she’ll still come back and ask me for more.
“Zoe,” I whisper.
She shakes her head, lips rubbing across my chest.
“Just a little while longer,” she begs. “Just let me pretend.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
The reprieve doesn’t last long. Her tears fall, wetting my chest, and her hands tremble on my skin.
“Today actually happened?”
“Yeah, baby. It happened.”
“I need to—”
I grip her arm when she moves to climb off the bed.
“Please don’t.”
“I have to pee,” she says, hooking her thumb over her shoulder toward the bathroom. “I’m coming back.”
I hate the sight of the t-shirt covering her body when she reemerges, but I know it gives her security, a means to shield herself.
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.” She climbs on the bed but sits at the end with her legs crossed too far for me to reach out and touch her.
“It’s expected.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“Never.” The word gets caught in my throat.
“Are your friends going to hurt me?”
“I’ll kill them if they harm one hair on your gorgeous head.”
“Even TJ?”
“Especially him,” I answer honestly.
“Do you love me?”
“More than anything else on this Earth.”
“Does that scare you?”
I swallow the thick lump forming in my throat. “Terrifies me.”
“Was that hard to admit?” A sparkle lights her eyes.
I nod. “Don’t tell my men. They’ll think I’m a pussy.”
“Love makes a man weak?”
“Many in this world believe that’s true. My father’s favorite saying growing up was ‘pussies were made to be fucked not worshiped.’”
She cringes. “He sounds like a winner.”
“He was something,” I respond.
“I have a million questions.” She focuses on her hands, refusing to look at me.
“I have nothing to hide,” I tell her even though that’s so far from the fucking truth my throat burns like I’ve been drinking acid.
Her questions start off simple at first. She asks about things that I didn’t think would carry any emotions for me. She asks about my early life, my mother, Molly’s mother, and my father. I tell her nothing but the truth, only skimming over some of the more brutal things I’ve faced in life. I show her the scars my father left on my skin, the stab wounds and bullet holes, and she cries over the ones deep inside no one can see.
She confesses to being selfish and hating herself for pushing away all the good things in life because she was stubborn. She admits to hating herself for thinking she had it bad when we were suffering in this clubhouse. I admit my jealousy over TJ and Molly, and how I hated them growing up. They were spared so many times when Cowboy was focused on me instead. I also confess that now I’m glad Molly wasn’t hurt and that even sparing TJ didn’t help because he’s still a psycho.
She doesn’t delve deeper wanting to know about the inner workings of the club. She doesn’t ask questions that will glean information she could use against any of us later. She wants to know about me, only me. What makes me happy. What makes me sad. What turns me on the most.
“Enough,” I tell her a second before I crawl across the bed and tug her under me. “I feel like I’m on a fucking episode of Dr. Phil.”