Page 13 of Love Gamble

I take a quick look in the side mirror, careful not to alert Julianna of what I suspect and grateful that we’re almost back to the clubhouse.

“Your mother?” Julianna asks in a whisper.

“Yeah. She used to work on the Strip. She met a man, fell hard, got pregnant with me. Same old story. He made her a lot of promises, but he had a wife. So my mother was a kept woman and was fine with it. He took care of her and me, I guess. But he was in business with typical bad people. Loan sharks, mobsters, cartels. I think he laundered money for them. When I was about ten, some drama went down with his wife and my mother, and he moved us to another location, a less safe location. You know the story. Someone found out where we were, and when I was at school one day, they got to her.”

I look over to Julianna, who has a hand over her mouth. My story is tragic, which she already kind of knew, but what can I do about it? My mother chose love because she thought love was all you need. I know better. She had terrible taste in men, and in the end, it caught up to her.

“You’re scared, I get it,” she declares. “But Damon, you can’t let fear dictate who you love.”

I go quiet once again. I feel kind of relieved to actually tell someone about how I’ve been feeling, to get it off my chest.

“So you’re just going to let her think you’re still seeing Melinda?” she presses, shaking her head. “And what happens if Corey moves on and starts dating someone? Then what?”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I don’t understand why you’re both resisting, yet secretly want each other. Or maybe not so secretly, because I think we all know.”

“I don’t know,” is all I have to say. “See, it’s complicated with Corey. And it’s not with anyone else. I don’t want any added drama in my life.”

“That’s because you don’t care about anyone else like you do her,” she replies in a gentle tone. “Good things aren’t easy. And look, I know you’re worried about putting her in danger, and I know River is difficult, and they are valid points, but you’re using that as an excuse. We all make it work somehow. And the drama? Look at what just happened. That was drama.”

“There’s just a lot on my plate right now,” I conclude. “And the safety of the club comes first.”

There’s definitely something between Corey and me. But am I ready for it?

And more importantly, is she?

“I can see that,” she mutters, reaching out and touching my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, though. You’ll both figure it out.”

She sounds sure.

I’m glad someone is.

And when I still see the car following us, I know that right now is not the fucking time to start a relationship.

Chapter Six

Corey

I’m in the shower the next morning, staring at the scars on my wrist. When I lost my brother, I was at my lowest, and the scars are proof of that.

I don’t hate them, though. They show me how far I’ve come since then, and they are evidence that I can survive anything. I’m strong. I’ve hit rock bottom and climbed out of that pit all on my own. Well, with the help of my therapist. No one knows about that part. If they knew...they’d think there was something wrong with me. That I need the help. And while I do, I don’t want anyone to know about it. I know they would be supportive, but I don’t want them to know that I’m a fucking mess. They’ll start to coddle me and that’s the last thing I want.

And it wasn’t just losing Matthew that put me there. I got no support from my mom, who blamed me for my brother being murdered, because I was with him when it happened, and because he was defending me from the men who ended up beating him to death. I know it wasn’t my fault, but I still felt guilty, and kept wondering about the what-ifs.

What if we had gone home earlier that day?

What if I wasn’t at the bar at all? I shouldn’t have been there. I’m not even old enough to drink. But I wanted to be included. I wanted to be an adult.

Maybe the outcome would have changed.

Maybe my brother would still be here.

Every time I see a big blue butterfly, I always think it’s him.

And I’ve seen a few recently.

My thumb runs along my wrist absently, and I get lost in my thoughts. Grief is a slippery slope, and one thing I’m learning is that it never truly goes away, you just learn how to deal with it better. I have been better, though. I don’t talk about it every single time I have a session with my therapist anymore.

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