Page 35 of Ripper's Redemption

Fuck, how am I supposed to answer that?

I swallow hard, “Yeah, I think we’re getting there.”

The truth is, I like Tara. I like her a whole lot. The only issue is our relationship isn’t really a relationship—it’s just sex. At least, that’s what I’ve convinced myself and her of.

Bama takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke rings into the chilly evening air.

His eyes flick over to me, “So, Ripper, you excited for tonight?”

“What’s tonight?” I don’t know about anything going on tonight.

“Tara’s surprise birthday party, man,” Stiletto replies, elbowing me lightly. “You know, Gears’ daughter? The one you’re dating.”

I shrug, playing it cool. “No one told me about a surprise party for her, so what’s up with that?”

“Come on, don’t give me that.” Stiletto laughs. "Everyone knows you pay attention to whatever the ladies are talkin’ about in the club. We’ve been hush hush when she’s around, but we had to plan somethin’ for her.”

I scoff, “I believe you’re mistaking me for Bolt, Tex, and Dracus—the resident gossipers.”

Stiletto and Bama both burst out into laughter.

Stiletto continues, “I can tell you really like her, Ripper. And her too. Every time I see her lookin’ at you, it’s like you’re her entire world.”

Fuck, I wish.

Tara’s only selling the fact she’s into me. That’s all her longing looks can be.

“Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it.

Truth is, thinking about Tara does something to me.

Makes my chest feel tight in a way that’s not altogether unpleasant.

She’s got this energy, this lightness about her that makes me feel... different.

Like maybe there’s more outside of the club life that I can experience, like there are light parts in life that she could be a part of.

“She’s good for you,” Bama says quietly, surprising me. He’s not usually one to weigh in on personal matters. “Maybe you should let her in.”

“Yeah,” I mutter.

Letting someone in isn’t exactly my style. But with Tara, I might just consider it.

She makes me think of things I’d thought were long buried—hope, redemption, a place where I actually belong—shit, she makes me think of family, and I haven’t had one of those in a while.

Not since my little sister died.

My dad left because he couldn’t deal with the way my mom was afterwards, which led me to taking care of her during depressive episodes.

Only, it turned from depression into addiction and then I was dealing with something else entirely.

After a while, it began sucking the soul out of me and I had to get away—which is how I ended up prospecting for the Reapers Rejects MC.

“Anyway,” Stiletto continues, flicking ash from her cigarette, “tonight should be a blast. We put so much work into this. You better show up.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I missed my girl’s party?” I reply, though my mind’s already drifting to other things.

I could easily work on some shit in the garage, but I want to see what the club’s done for Tara and the smile I know she’ll have on her face.

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