“I didn’t know it was tonight until Killyama called me this afternoon. I didn’t think it was a big deal with you going out. Do you not want me to go?”
“I want you to go. I was just curious why you didn’t mention it to me last night. I don’t want you to miss the first sleepover with the girls.” Reaper found it hard to convince her when he was finding it hard to convince himself he was cool with her going. “Did you take everything you need? You want to ask Trudy? I could send Train back up to the club to get what she wants.”
“No, we’re good. I took one more bottle than we usually drink when we spend the night together.” Going up onto her tiptoes, she tried to kiss him, but Reaper pulled his head back slightly.
“I thought you haven’t been to their sleepovers before?”
“Oh … not at Sex Piston’s. We’ve had sleepovers when we could sneak off to Lexington after scrounging enough money together.”
Lowering his mouth, Reaper gave her a hard kiss. “Keep your phone on you.”
“I will,” she promised. “You have a good time with Silas and Greer.”
Reaper watched her get in the Lincoln, forcing himself not to remind her that she was forgetting something. He stood there until the vehicle was out of sight, thinking she would’ve remembered and was expecting her to roll the window down and yell out to him.
Going to the side of the house, he went up the back path to the club. There was no way he would be able to make it up the front steps. It would be a miracle if he made it up the stairs to take a shower.
Coming from the kitchen and into the main room, Reaper found the party had already started. Jewell was behind the bar, pouring drinks for the brothers. Jesus and Puck had come inside and were tongue-fucking two of the female members on one of the long couches. As he turned the corner, Reaper saw Knox and Diamond coming into the room, with Bliss and Drake following behind them.
“Come, Suki.” Reaper gave them curt nods as he went up the stairs, using the handrail to pull himself upward.
Today was the first day she hadn’t told him she loved him. Glumly, he thought about driving to Stud’s house after Silas and Greer brought him back from their boys’ night out. It would give her another opportunity to remember what she’d forgotten to do.
Wasn’t telling him she loved him as important to her as it had been? Was she getting bored with him? Closing his bedroom door, he walked toward his dresser for clean clothes, and seeing the mirror perched above, the tight feeling in his chest eased.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
She had written it out six times on his mirror with eye liner.
Finding a sweatshirt and jeans, he went into the bathroom, his reflection in the mirror distorted by the sentences written across the glass.
She had written it six times.
Chapter Forty-Two
“You can have this one.” Prying the old folding chair open, Greer placed the chair down on the ground. Opening two others, Greer plopped down on the best of the three rickety chairs and sprawled his legs out.
Reaper felt as if the old chair was going to break at any moment as he tried to find a comfortable spot on the worn-out plastic. He caught the ice-cold bottle of beer Greer tossed him from the small cooler that Silas brought.
“Next week, I’ll bring the chairs.”
“Suit yourself. You have some fancy ones in that factory of yours? Bring three, and I’ll keep them in my trunk for us.” Greer reached in his pocket, coming out with a joint and a lighter. “Ain’t you got that fire lit yet, cuz?”
Twisting the bottle open, he and Greer watched as Silas got the fire started.
Taking a beer from Greer, Silas sat down on the chair catty corner to Greer’s.
“God, it’s good to get away from them heathens,” Greer groused, sucking in a hit of the joint.
Reaper took a hit, and when he started to pass it back to Greer, Silas held out his hand. Taking a hit, Silas propped his feet up on the cooler.
“Thank God that smell finally went away,” he said, taking another hit before passing it back to him. Reaper took another hit before giving it back to Greer.
“Which one is this one?” Enjoying the cold beer sliding down his throat, Reaper rested his beer bottle on his abs.
“Dustin grew this one. He named it Hollar Wowie.”
“Kentucky Gold is better, but this is a close second.” Reaper took the joint back from him. “Why haven’t you brought us a blunt you’ve grown?”
“Boy, you can live without Kentucky Gold and Hollar Wowie, but once you taste Mountain Flame, you’d think you’ve died and gone to heaven. I keep those to sell to people who are celebrating special occasions.”