“I have an idea. Let’s give it a few weeks. See how things are going to play out. For the past five years, Rusty’s been in prison. I have a feeling the only thing on his mind is tearing through the Honeys and drinking himself stupid. Take that time to get your head on straight. Come up with a plan. You’re going to have to tell Copper at some point.” Izzy uncapped her ginger ale and took a small sip.
When Izzy said it, the idea of talking with Copper sounded so feasible. But then, Shell hadn’t told her friends the entire story. Copper’s devastated reaction was only one of the issues she’d be dealing with. Still, it appeared her reprieve was up, and she’d have no choice but to tell him soon.
“I think it’s a good plan. Don’t make any rash decisions, Shell. And when the time comes that you’re ready to tell Copper, we’ll have your back. I promise we’ll stand with you.” Toni placed a hand over Shell’s.
“Absofuckinglutely,” Izzy said.
A lump formed in Shell’s throat. “If it comes down to it, you have to remain loyal to the club. To your men.”
“You are the club, Shell.” Toni put her arms around Shell’s shoulders. “I refuse to believe anyone would make us choose. Besides, we’re sisters as much as the guys are brothers. Never forget that.”
“And,” Izzy said with a shrug. “Jig already thinks Rusty is a fuckwad. He’d never side with him over you.”
For the first time since the day she sat naked on her bathroom floor staring at a positive pregnancy test, the warmth of having someone in her corner eroded the icy blanket of loneliness she wore daily. She had friends, she had support, she had women who believed her and believed in her without even knowing the full story. Based solely on the power of her character.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to come out of this without new wounds on her heart.
But could she say the same for Copper?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SHELL WAS PULLING away. She’d tried a hundred flimsy excuses to get out of coming to Rusty’s party. Copper had shot down every one with ease, but even after agreeing to attend, she seemed reluctant.
Shit, maybe all she’d ever wanted from him was a half dozen or so orgasms. Nothing more. For years, his brothers ragged on him, telling him she wasn’t only hot for his dick, but head over heels in love with him, too.
Could they have been wrong? Was she satisfied now that he’d scratched her itch?
No. That was bullshit. She hadn’t been with a man in the year she’d been back. Might make him a stalker, but he was positive no one had touched her. Shell wasn’t the fuck for fucking’s sake kind of woman.
She has a child, supposedly with a man she fucked to get you off her brain.
To be honest, Copper wasn’t sure he believed that explanation. It was a little too pat. A little too easily wrapped up in a bow. Too out of character for the Shell he knew. Plus, it didn’t explain why Beth’s father was entirely out of the picture and Shell all but refused to speak of him. No, there was something else to the story. Something painful. Every time he thought of it, his gut churned, alerting him something was off. Over the years, he’d learned to trust his gut above all.
And someday, he was going to get the story out of her.
Of course, he’d have to get her to stop refusing him first. Over the past three days, she’d come up with bullshit reasons to avoid spending time alone with him. Not what he’d expected after she’d blown his mind Wednesday afternoon.
He was an idiot. Instead of complaining, he should be looking at her hesitancy as a gift from God. An easy out. Couple of hot fucks then done. Wasn’t that the perfect scenario? He wouldn’t have to extricate himself from the situation. He should jump on that train and get back to the way things were. He’d been tossing out reasons to stay away from her for years, yet he couldn’t just walk away.
Shell had secrets. Another reason to let this fizzle out. But he just couldn’t walk away. Though it didn’t seem to be a problem for her. The cold shoulder was pissing him the fuck off.
Especially right then when she looked like a combination of an angel and a biker’s wet dream. Rusty’s welcome home party was in full swing, and unlike Copper’s recent birthday event, this one was planned by the guys. That meant many, many, wasted women in barely-there clothing, brothers in various stages of fucking both behind closed doors and out in the open, and enough booze to float the entire clubhouse.
During church on Thursday, some of the single guys, Rusty included, had pleaded with him to ban ol’ ladies from the party. That earned Copper some seriously pissed off glares from the men who were shackled. Back in the day, it wasn’t uncommon for the club to have a party the ol’ ladies weren’t invited to. But back then, more of the men were unshackled. A lot had changed since Rusty’d last been around, namely the number of men in monogamous relationships.