Page 97 of Misguided

I tip my head her way and smile at the cheeky smirk she gives me. “You won’t let up, huh?”

“Nope. Hooch always did say I was a stubborn bitch.”

I focus on the flames, on the shades of orange as they flicker. “Shouldn’t we be talkin’ about you?”

“Nope.” She’s resolved in her answer, staring into the fire also. “I think we’ve done enough of sorting me out, don’t you?”

Fair enough. “He didn’t always hate me,” I admit.

She doesn’t say anything, and I stare down at my hands as I twist the skull ring on my right middle finger in circles. There’s no real reason why I feel comfortable opening up to her. Shit, I don’t. Giving her that one line has me tensed, on edge as though my whole lie is about to be unraveled and laid out for the whole club to dissect.

“Why now, then? Can you change it?”

“I don’t think so.”

The night breathes around us as we sit in silence, the odd creak of a branch stirred by the breeze, the rustle as something small scurries the undergrowth in search of food.

Mel leans forward and stirs one of the tins, bringing some out to test on the tip of her fork. I watch the way the light dances over her face as she—using the makeshift tongs same as I did—brings our dinner to us.

“I’d garnish it, make it seem real fancy, but you know.”

I chuckle, using the hem of my T-shirt to hold the tin. The stew is welcome, warming me in the places Mel hasn’t already. She eats carefully beside me, seeming to dig through the mix for the select parts, before finishing the rest off in greedy mouthfuls.

“Hungry?”

Her eyes light up, catching the flicker of the flames as they start to die. “I forgot how good simple meat and veggies can taste.”

“What did you eat while you were out there?”

“Fruit, sometimes processed meats like salami and ham, and dry goods.” She groans, tipping her head back. “Lots of rice and pasta. Like, way too much.” She giggles as she pats her thigh with a free hand. “Probably the only reason I didn’t waste away; all those carbs.”

“I can’t believe they left you out there all alone for so long.” I frown as I recognize the tension in my chest: sympathy. I feel sorry for this woman, for what she went through.

“Not much choice, really. Visiting was too risky. Hooch told me that they tried jacking up some other place for me to go a few months after I went away, but something went down—he won’t say what—and they decided the risk was too high to move me when I was already hidden.”

“Yeah, that shit with Carlos was real messy.”

“Were you there for it?”

“Part of it.” I lift the tin and drink the last of the gravy. “Not the worst of it though.”

That honor was reserved for the lifers, the guys who’ve been with the club the longest, dealt with the shit the most and knew what they were headed into. I never crossed paths with the drug lord, but from what I’d heard of Carlos from the other guys, that was a good thing.

“Were you worried?” I ask her. “Did you think he’d find you?”

She nods, scraping the sides of her tin with the fork. “I swear I lost twenty pounds the first month from stress alone.” She huffs, smirking. “The guy who dropped supplies for me at the end of the road would do it different times of the day to change it up, you know? So I’d have to walk down there at least twice a day to check if anything was there. He wouldn’t come all the way down to me in case he was being followed, so I figured I wouldn’t grab it right after he’d dropped it for the same reason.” She turns, shuffling her cute little butt until she faces me. “I’d get down there and see the box shoved in the bushes, and I’d wait. Sit there for ten minutes, or some days an hour, just making sure nobody else was watching.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like.” Second-guessing your every move, casting suspicion every second of the day. “When did you settle?”

She shrugs, setting the tin down and reaching for the pack. “I don’t know if I did or if being on alert the whole time just became normal.” Mel pulls two bottles of water out and points toward the tree line with the one in her right hand. “Even now, I’m watching the shadows, making a mental map of where the color change in the trees is so if anything were to change I’d notice it.”

The threat changed her life. Her impromptu getaway into the wilderness for a year wasn’t a holiday; it was a soul-shaping exercise. The woman before me, no matter how much she might resemble the one she was before, will never be the same. She’s forever altered because of one selfish tyrant.

“Fuck I wish I’d been there now.”

“Where?” Mel passes my bottle over.

“In the room when Sawyer finished him off. Would have thrown a few extra in for you.”

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