“Yeah.”
“Is he mad?”
“He’s not happy.”
“Didn’t think he would be. But I need to know what I’m dealing with when I head back to the house.”
Sig tilted his head and studied Stella, who was now finishing with the counter. His kitchen hadn’t looked that good since the day he moved in. He could get one of the sweet butts to clean his apartment but then they’d want dick from him. And so far, he’d avoided any and all of them. Maybe he needed to find a house mouse. They tended to be on the younger side and didn’t spin on every brother’s dick like a sweet butt.
Fuck. Now was not the time to be thinking about that shit. Now, he was staring at his brother’s ol’ lady and they were dealing with a pregnant woman in his bed. And right now, Stella was worried about what condition her ol’ man was in and what she’d be walking into when she returned to the house.
“He got it honestly, Stel.”
Her hand froze and she straightened. “I know.”
“We both did.”
Her face twisted and she rinsed the sponge off in the sink. “I know.”
“He was a fuckin’ bastard.” He hated to say his father’s name, but Stella picked up what he was putting down.
She placed the sponge on the corner of the sink to dry and took a deep breath. “I remember, Sig. I lived the same life you two did.”
“Not the same.”
“Close enough.”
“You think he’d ever lose it enough to fuckin’ hurt you?”
Stella quickly schooled her face. “Do you?”
“Only you can answer that.”
She nodded, but looked troubled. “Have you ever taken your anger out on a woman?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Not the way you’re thinkin’. I...” Fuck. “I... find a volunteer.”
Her eyebrows dropped low. “A volunteer? What do you mean?”
“Some women like—”
Stella’s hand rose quickly. “Got it. No need to explain. Consenting adults and all that shit, right?”
Sig said nothing.
“Consenting, right?” Stella prodded.
“Right.”
“And all adults, right?”
“S’far as I know.”
Stella groaned and turned to dry her hands off with a paper towel from the half-kicked roll that was tucked into the corner of his counter. When she was done, she tossed it on top of the overflowing garbage. “You have to do better, Sig. You have to. For him. For you. For all of us. Please do better.”
“Was startin’ to ‘cause I had Rebecca. Now I don’t.”
“I’m going to assume Rebecca was the Amish girl Trip was talking about. The one you got your ass kicked over?”
“Yeah.”
“You liked her?”
“I... needed her.”
“She liked... whatever you did to her?”
“Yeah.”
“She was an outlet.”
“Yeah.”
“Just find yourself another outlet. One old enough to consent, Sig. If that’s what it takes to keep you from spinning out of control, then that’s what it takes. Trip does a counting thing with his breathing. My guess is Buck’s was...” Her mouth remained opened but the words just stopped.
“My mother.”
Stella nodded. “Just like a gun. There’s a trigger and a safety. One does the damage, one prevents it. You just need to find the safety that works for you.”
Sig stared at Trip’s ol’ lady. The queen of his brother’s kingdom. The fucking woman was smart. And no-nonsense. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but suddenly he realized what Trip saw in her, how she helped keep his life and his temper level. For the most part.
Sig no longer saw her as that pain in the ass little girl that followed her and Trip around, always trying to get Trip to kiss her. Always telling Trip he was going to marry her. Until the day it all stopped.
That day, out of anger, Trip pushed her hard enough to slam her head into a cinder block wall, splitting it open.
Looking back, that seemed to be the day where everything in their lives began to spin out of control.
Stella got hurt, then Buck and Pete kicked the shit out of Trip for doing it, saying it was so he learned to never put his hands on a female in anger. Though, that didn’t make sense to Sig. He’d seen the other club brothers be violent with women and hurt them. Buck never said shit to them. Maybe it was only because Stella was Pete’s daughter.
Because, in truth, Buck probably didn’t give a fuck Trip cracked open Stella’s head. Probably didn’t give a shit she needed stitches.
But he had to save face with Pete.
He watched them beat the fuck out of him, to teach Trip a lesson. But in doing so, Sig learned that lesson, too, and he worried that the person he was closest to would die before it was over. Sig had hidden behind a barrel and watched the whole thing, terrified, trying to remain quiet so he didn’t get caught. Because he did not want the same beating that Trip got.
His best friend could hardly move for days. Then Buck visited his mother a day or so later.