She dropped her gaze to her shoes. “Hmm. Well, I can tell you that’s not the case anymore.”
“Yeah? Do lots of chicks chase after me?” The thought of having any woman I wanted made me chuckle.
“Sort of. Here in the club, patched members can have any kitten they want. Most of the bikers don’t date outside of the club. Of course, the married guys found their women elsewhere. A kitten isn’t the settling down type.”
“Is that right? You don’t want to get married and have a baby.”
She scrunched her nose. “No. I like sex and men. I’m not a one-man woman.”
“Hot damn.” I raked my gaze over her curvy body. “So we’ve been together, I take it?”
“Yes, but that was a long time ago. I told you. You’re totally devoted to Ava.”
“Ava.” I let her name roll off my tongue as I put the cup on the table. “She seems too sweet for me.”
Libby opened the door. “She is sweet, and you’re enamored with her, so don’t go fucking it up just because you don’t remember how much she means to you.” She pointed to the tray. “Take your meds and get some rest. Your girl will be in to check on you soon. Be nice to her.”
I issued her a weak salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
After the door closed, I took the pain pills and got comfortable in bed. There was a time in my life I wished I’d never wake up. I’d dream I was someone else who had a good life and was happy.
“Ava,” I whispered her name. “Ava.” It was a pretty name, perfect for a beautiful woman.
How did we get together? Why would someone like her be with a biker like me? We seemed to be from opposite sides of the tracks. The good girl and the bad boy, different in every way. I sensed her innocence. There was a vulnerability I didn’t want to know or understand.
My eyes closed, then opened. With each blink, they grew heavier. I’d bet my father would be shocked as hell to see me in a biker club with a gorgeous, devoted woman by my side. He never thought I’d amount to anything. I honestly hadn’t believed I would be much more than a fast-food worker, no thanks to him constantly beating me down.
I yawned and settled in to sleep. My old man was the last person I wanted to think about. I hoped the son of a bitch was six feet under. God knew he deserved to suffer in hell just as my mom and I had…
The slap of his belt registered in my brain before the sting. I’d trained myself to focus on the sound instead of the pain. I’d got what he’d called “a lashing” dozens of times by the age of fifteen, it didn’t hurt much anymore. Well, it sort of did, but the mean son of a bitch wouldn’t get my tears.
Slap, slap, slap.
I steeled myself to not flinch and bit my tongue. Any reaction would give him satisfaction.
He spewed cursed words and huffed like he’d been chopping wood for hours. Whipping a person was exhausting.
“You’ll never amount to anything. Ya, hear me, boy?” Slap, slap, slap. “You’re a waste of space. Only good for flipping burgers and pumping gas.”
I winced and eyed a black dot I’d put on the wall. When he would tell me to take my shirt off and face the wall, I knew what was coming. I’d put my hands up like a criminal and spread my legs. He’d tell me the offense and how many lashes I’d receive.
It was always stupid shit I’d done wrong or stuff he’d fabricated while drunk. The bastard loved to beat me and didn’t actually need a reason.
Slap, slap, slap.
If I were a little bigger, I might try to overtake him. But I was too chicken shit. One day I’d give my old man a dose of his own medicine.
Slap, slap, slap.
For now, I’d take my lashing while staring at the black dot. I’d hold onto the hatred seeping into the marrow of my bones. I’d never let go of the disdain I had for him. At least my mom didn’t have to endure his beatings anymore. She was in a better place, though her life had been cut far too short. Served her right, I guessed, for picking an abusive wife-killer like Jeb Rivers.
When he least expected it, I would end him.
“You’re a worthless piece of shit for a son.”
Slap, slap, slap.
Maybe I was. I was a Rivers, after all.