Page 5 of In It for the Long Ride

I’d faced worse than death more than a few times in my life, what was that little lady gonna do to me?

“I’m. Not. Going. To. Lose. Him. Too,” she grounded out.

I studied her for a moment and nodded in understanding, “No. We’re done losing people.”

Her hand shot out, jabbing me in the chest. The other one flew up and exploded against the side of my face. I tried to jerk my head back, but the ends of her fingers still landed solid enough to sting and leave a burn that had my eyes lighting up with adrenaline.

“Fuck you! Don’t make me promises you can’t keep. I’ve heard enough of them out of you to last a lifetime, Carl!” she roared.

It wasn’t the first time she’d cursed me, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Even so, I’d never understood the anger that had grown in my absence. I’d spent decades wracking my brain, replaying every moment between us that I could recall. I never had figured out what seeds of pain or hate I could have planted in that girl that could have grown into this.

Woman.

She wasn’t a girl anymore. Fuck, she’d owned her own business before she decided to raise Easy and Anthony. She’d aged like fine wine, too. Her brown eyes still cut like glass when she wanted them to, and her tail was the type that would always be worthy of a second glance. She was a little on the short side, but she was the perfect size for me. I wasn’t a giant like Oak or Easy.

“What the fuck did I do to you, Daisy?” I asked, not for the first time in the past few years.

She stared at me like she hoped it was my last breath and then scoffed and looked away.

“Don’t be that way. Talk to me,”

“You want to have a long heart-to-heart call that club piece you keep upstairs. Hm?”

I jerked my head back and squinted. She’d never been petty toward the women I kept company with, having made it plain long ago that she couldn’t think of a man that disgusted her more than I did.

“All I want to know out of you is how you’re going to fuckin’ fix all this, Carl,” she whispered, cutting those dark eyes on me.

They were glistening with pain and rage, and that much I could understand. She’d paid a hefty price to the Disciples. I was a part of that pain, like it or not. I couldn’t deny it. The patch on my fuckin’ chest read Chaplain and it always would.

“Daisy, it ain’t for me to fix. This is a conversation you should probably be having with Oak. He’s our pres–” Her abrupt, manic laughter cut me off and the way she looked at me sent my heart to my asshole.

She patted my chest like I was the cutest kid in the candy store and smiled up at me.

“You’re the president,” she whispered, her hand curling into my kutte. “Do you hear me, Carl?”

I shook my head at her mad talk.

“I ain’t never been president of nothing, don’t intend to start now.” My hands ghosted around her.

I wanted to hold her until the madness settled, but I was terrified the slightest touch would send her off again.

She huffed, not taking her eyes off mine. Those dark pools clouded with tears once more, and her smile quivered.

“Tell me the truth…” I begged, my voice cracking. “Did… Did you hurt Oak?”

I wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell me, and I wanted to help her. God, help me. Whatever she did, I’d make it better for her. I loved Oakland like a nephew, but if it came down to standing in the corner of a marine or the woman I loved and broke, I’d choose Daisy.

Every fucking time. No matter what.

I just wish she knew it.

How she could go all these years and not comprehend that, I didn’t know. It didn’t matter what was upstairs or how many had been in between…

My heart had always been hers.

“I didn’t do anything.” She stepped back, blinking away the tears and darting her gaze around the shop, clearly trying to compose herself. “I need to leave.”

When she shifted to go, something in me snapped. The fear, confusion, and years of bottled-up feelings for her erupted.

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