Page 44 of Through The Woods

Chapter Thirteen

“Axel, do you know who Rae is?”

The prospect froze. “Where’d you hear that name?”

I shrugged and continued folding laundry on the couch, avoiding his stare. “I just heard someone mention it and I was curious. There are no women hiding out around here besides me, are there?”

I risked a glance from underneath my lashes and saw that he’d gone pale. He took several steps in one direction before turning back to me. “I wouldn’t mention that name again if I were you. Now, if you’re looking to make a friend, I’ve got just the person.”

With that, he promptly left me and the laundry, off to conjure up a friend for me.

Damn.

I’d thought that with him still being a prospect, he’d yet to take the oath to ‘keep Neve from knowing anything.’

In a river of tears, I was quickly and irrevocably being swept downstream in a swirl of emotions. It was moving beyond a simple crush; I was falling in love with Charm’s words and the passion that I saw displayed on every page. Like a firefly, I wanted to capture it and make it my own.

And I hated myself for it.

She loved him in ways I’d never be able to—they’d had decades together and with that came a familiarity that he’d never have with me. I was just some junkie they rescued and nursed back to health.

Like Bones, the dog.

And my demise would be much the same. My heart had led me into no man’s land—afraid to move forward due to uncertainty and unable to retreat. Instead, I remained stranded—paralyzed with fear.

Bobby came home today. He’s not the same man that left years ago—injured in combat, he’d been medically discharged and sent home. Gone is the prankster who rigged a little metal kitchen playset up to a generator, shocking the hell out of Rae when she touched the faucet.

In his place, is a ghost; a shell. He took shrapnel to the knee, ending his military career in an instant. He was lucky they said—his best friend came home in a pine box. Billy just said it was bad; he never told us the extent. I haven’t heard him speak once; he just hobbles around on the crutches, trying to avoid being near anyone for too long. I both hated and loved him simultaneously. He was a brother to me, but he’d fucked up everything by going after her.

She stood at the top of the stairs, watching him silently. He doesn’t know it yet, but she’s changed too. The club sank its claws into her and she has no desire to break free. Her heart hasn’t been mine for some time now; but, sitting here watching her, I know that he never left her. It was even more apparent when Bobby felt her stare. He stumbled back and looked up at her as if he was surprised that she was still here.

If that’s love, then I’m a novice.

I wanted to make her happy—to keep her safe. I patched in and worked my way up to officer to ensure that nobody laid a hand on her.

I thought I was the hero.

I was only the villain.

“Neve!” Axel called from the stairs and I hastily shoved the journal underneath my pillow, heart beating double-time, as his bootsteps approached my door.

“I’m in here. Just cleaning up a little.” These near misses were becoming quite the high for me.

Axel came in, closely followed by a woman I didn’t recognize. “Neve, this is Amber. Amber, Neve. Thought you two could keep each other company this afternoon.”

She tucked a strand of bleached blonde hair behind her ear and extended her hand toward me. “Hello.”

“Hi.” I took her hand in mine, grateful for the distraction. Axel left us and went back downstairs. “Does Charm know you’re here?”

Her blue eyes widened. “Absolutely. Axel wouldn’t do nothing without the Prez’s approval.”

I nodded, my mind working to come up with how she fit into this world. “And you know the club…” I trailed off, hoping she’d fill in the gaps.

Amber smiled widely, her blindingly white teeth on full display. “I’m a club whore.”

She announced it much like one would if they got all A’s for the semester; such pride in being a plaything to a bunch of bikers. Amber didn’t look like what I imagined a whore would look like. Her makeup was expertly done, giving the appearance that she wasn’t wearing any, and her clothes were modest—tasteful even. She could’ve blended in on any college campus in America. Her speech was the only indicator that she probably hadn’t completed anything beyond secondary.

“Oh,” I tried to choose my next words carefully, so that I didn’t offend her. “And you enjoy that, um, line of work?”

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