Page 58 of The Prez

At least I hope so. I feel a certain way that he didn’t talk to me about him and Christian. It makes me feel like I failed him as his president. I didn’t see that he was hurting so much, that he was feeling this loss so much more than the rest of us. Add Pete to the list of those I failed.

An hour later, just when my ass is screaming at me to move and get some blood flowing, Pete staggers out of the room, his face looking worse and his gait even more off than it usually is.

When he sees me sitting on the floor, he stops and stares. “Figured you’d have left by now,” he said is a sleep gravel voice.

“No, hermano. Come sit. We need to talk.”

He blows out a hard breath, but he lowers himself gently to the floor. He hisses when he bends his knee but waves me off when I move to help. “I’m okay, Prez. Someone just got a good shot in.”

“Who?” I growl.

Pete looks at me with red eyes and says, “I fight, Prez. Underground. Last night was a tough one and I got my ass beat when my opponent realized my knee was fucked up.”

I hiss. “Who is this guy?” I ask, wanting his name so I can fuck him up myself.

With a small smirk, Pete shakes his head. “I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. It was a fair fight.” I cross my arms over my chest. Pete grins at me. “It’s kind of weird to see you pout, Prez.”

“I’m not fucking pouting,” I snarl but he’s not buying it. “We gonna talk about the other thing or you gonna pretend you didn’t drop a bomb on me?”

Pete sighs, lying on his back on the floor. I do the same, staring up at the ceiling. It takes him a few minutes, but he finally starts speaking. “I don’t know how it happened. One day, we were just hanging out and drinking, the next, we’re together and in love.”

“How long were you together?”

“Almost a year.” He glances over at me. “Christian wanted to keep things quiet. Said he liked having me all to himself. And I agreed. Sneaking around was hot.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “But that meant every time we were together, it was behind closed doors. My biggest regret is never going on a date with Christian. Never showing the club and the world he was mine.”

“I’m sorry,” I say around a lump in my throat. “I’m sorry you lost him and I’m sorry I didn’t know. I should have.”

Pete chuckles sadly. “Nah. We were really fucking discreet. No one knew. I regret that now.”

“What do you need? Is there any way we can help? Any wayIcan help?”

He exhales. “Yeah. Don’t give me shit if you see me beat up? Fighting keeps my mind off shit. And I make pretty good money.”

I chuckle. “Maybe you need more training, brother.” I roll over and sit up on my knees. “If you’re going to do this, you need to keep me in the loop. Tell me when you fight and where it is. If you can’t do that, you can’t fight.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I talk over him. “Glad you agree. Let your face heal up and go back to physical therapy for your knee. It won’t be a fucking weak spot for your opponents if you work it out.”

Pete rolls his eyes, but nods, sitting up and mirroring my pose. “Your nanny, he’s yours, right?” I give a clipped nod, not sure where he’s going with that. “That’s good. It’s good that you claim him out loud. Don’t be like me, Prez. Don’t live your days with regrets by not living out in the open with him, looking for shirts that smell like him if he’s gone. Yeah?”

“Sí, hermano. I won’t. Come to me if you need anything. I know I fucked up by not knowing you were in pain. As your president, I should have known. It won’t happen again, entendido?”

Pete smiles sadly at me. “You’re the best president there is, Prez. I don’t blame you. You’re always there for us when we need you. I just need to remember Icanneed you.”

CHAPTER 16

RAFAEL

My conversationwith Pete runs through my head the whole way back to the clubhouse. I never would have guessed Christian was involved with anyone, let alone Pete. It shakes me that he didn’t think he could tell me about his relationship. He was my best friend. I hate that he was keeping something from me.

I don’t hold it against him, but it doesn’t stop the fissure from drifting into me, working on the frayed edges of my soul. I know Pete said they liked having the secret, but my brain doesn’t care about that. All it heard is I wasn’t trustworthy enough for the information. Like the two of them knew I was a failure and wouldn’t be able to handle keeping their secret.

When I pull up to the clubhouse, Jace is standing outside with a white guy with blond, almost white hair pulled into a bun on top of his head. He’s of middling height and build. He’s rubbing his hands together nervously, his eyes downcast as I park and dismount my bike.

Jace walks over, clapping hands with me. “Prez, this is Donovan. Donovan, this is Prez.”

Donovan steps forward, holding his hand out to me and says in a deep voice with a slight country twang, “Nice to meet you, Prez.”

I look down at his hand with a raised eyebrow. After a few beats, he lowers his hand, looking up at Jace. My vice president just smirks.

“Listen here, Donny,” I say and grin when I see him bristle at the nickname. “You don’t talk to me, you don’t look at me, you don’t get in my way unless I tell you, understand?”

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