The flight home was longer than the one down to LA, at least it felt like it was to me. By the time I was on the ground I was anxious to find Jet, but I’d forgotten one little detail.
How the hell was I going to get there?
Biting into my bottom lip, I called Raven’s number. It rang and rang and rang, making me wonder if she was busy…or pissed at me. Maybe she thought I had gone back the Armstrongs and didn’t plan on coming back. My heart squeezed at the thought that I might have hurt her.
Shaking that thought off with the promise I would fix what I’d broken with Raven, I dialed the only other number I could think of. Since I wanted to surprise Jet, I couldn’t call him yet. That left only one person.
Hawk picked up on the second ring. “If you’re calling to ask me to get my brother to kill someone for you, you’re out of luck this time around.”
I pressed my lips together, wondering if he was pissed at me too. “Can you come pick me up?” I finally asked after a moment of silence on both our parts.
“Look, Flick, I’m over all that shit about Jet and the favor you asked, but there is no way in hell I’m leaving Gracie long enough to drive down to SoCal for your ass.”
“I’m not in SoCal,” I assured him. “I’m home. Well, almost home. I don’t have a way back from the airport.”
“Oh…” I could picture his brow wrinkling, and grinned. “Well, that’s different. I’m on my way now.”
It took him more than forty minutes to get there. Pulling up outside the airport, I was glad to see he had brought the Chevelle that Gracie drove instead of his hog. I’d forgotten to tell him I needed a way to get my luggage home since I’d picked up the rest of my things while at Emmie’s. Green eyes widened when he saw the three suitcases I had beside me.
“You home for good, Flick?”
“Yep,” I confirmed. “Think you could drop me off at the bar and take these back to your house?” After the way I’d left things with Jet two nights before, I wasn’t sure how happy he would be to see me, but I had to at least try.
He actually grinned at me. “No problem, honey.”
After he tossed my things in the trunk, he got in and we were soon on the road leading back to Creswell Springs. Nervously I looked over at the man I’d always considered a brother. “Is Jet mad at me?”
Hawk grimaced. “Who isn’t he mad at right now, Flick? He’s pretty shook up about you leaving again and he’s taking it out on everyone. He’s like a bear with a sore head, even made Raven cry this morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered and glanced down at my hands as I twisted them together in my lap. “Is…Is Rave mad too?”
“I wouldn’t say mad. More disappointed and hurt,” he said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “But with you home for good, she’ll get over it really quick.”
Relieved that he thought so, I turned back to look out the passenger window as he quickly got us back to Creswell Springs. Before long he was pulling up in front of the bar and I nearly tripped in my rush to get out. “Thanks, Hawk,” I called before practically sprinting inside.
Once I was inside, however, it was to find the place in complete and total chaos. Everyone was trying to get as close to the bar top as possible. People were screaming and a few of the MC members were actually taking bets on who would win the apparent fight that was going on.
Confused, because I could hear Jet and Colt both yelling—and from the sound of it they were yelling at each other—I pushed through the crowd until I finally reached the bar. The sight I found shocked the hell out of me.
Jet had Colt pinned to the floor, punching him everywhere but his face, but Colt was fighting back despite being trapped underneath his heavier, muscled older brother. Spider and Bash were trying to pull Jet off with Raider and Tanner assisting, but Jet looked like he was in full-on rage mode. Even with their combined efforts they couldn’t pull Jet off.
“What in the ever loving hell are you guys doing back there?”
Jet
I was starting to hate Saturday nights at the bar.
Over the last two nights I’d started hating everything, the world in general, but mostly myself. I’d just let her go. Fuck, how could I have just let her go, let her leave me again? Sure I’d said I wanted her to be happy, but I’d hoped that she would want to be happy with me.
Letting her go back to the rockers had been the hardest thing I’d ever done, perhaps the most unselfish thing I’d ever done, too. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed, didn’t mean I wasn’t going crazy without her.
Because I was.
I was hurt.
I was pissed.
I was losing my fucking mind.