Page 7 of Wild Side
His brows snap together. “You will be once you get sorted, but I don’t know what you need to do that.”
“Nothing,” I mutter. “Space.”
“Space is one thing I can’t give you, Chase.”
“Trent,” I rasp.
I love my brother, not in an incestuous way, or maybe there are some people who think that. But I love him. He’s part of me in ways that no other person could ever be. We have always been joined in a way that was likely deemed odd by everyone aroundus. Most brothers don’t fuck the same women. And that’s where this stems from.
I don’t want Goose to fuck Zadie. I don’t even want him to look at her. And sex with anyone else has felt like a chore, like a means to an end, an itch to scratch—with or without my brother. I’ve done both.
Nothing can satisfy me or even make me feel content. Nothing. There is nothingness. I haven’t felt emptiness in years. I don’t know how to describe it, how it makes me feel. And, honest to fuck, I don’t want to think about it, either.
“I’m calling this meeting to order,” Bullet announces, which shakes me out of my self-absorbed thoughts and brings me into this moment. “Today is short and sweet. I want to touch on two things. One, I need someone to go to Norfolk, Virginia, and deal with these fucks from the port authority. I need that shit fucking offloaded, and at this point, I’m ready to kill first and ask questions later.”
“I’ll go,” I state, raising my hand into the air.
Goose grunts beside me, but I ignore it. He hates doing shit like this. He doesn’t mind going to other clubs, or making a run, anything where he can go in and out without drama. He doesn’t like to be stuck at the shop unless necessary. I don’t blame him. I would rather be out, feel the wind in my face, and ride. But right now, I need to get away, and this accomplishes that task.
“And secondly, we need a vice president. It’s time. Do I have anyone who wants to nominate a member in good standing?” Bullet asks.
The room is silent for a moment. Everyone is in good standing, even Hogg, who is in prison for life.
Piggy lifts his hand before he stands slightly and speaks. “I nominate Razor,” he calls out
And before I realize what’s happening, it’s voted on and confirmed that Razor is the vice president of the original chapterof the Vicious Reapers MC. He’s got my vote. I know he’s one of the best men for the job. Really, Bullet was right when he said it could be anyone. I’ve never met a group of men who I could trust with my life other than these men.
They are my family.
ZADIE
His back is to me, the cut on full display in front of me. I have the entire thing memorized. Every single patch is seared into my brain. But the three most important ones are: Vicious Reapers MC. Rivara chapter. President.
“You wanted to talk to me, wanted me to come here to talk,” he says before he turns his head, looking back over his shoulder at me. “So, talk.”
Ever to the point, my father.
“A few months ago, Sable and I came down to the clubhouse when you guys were having a big party,” I begin.
I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. My dad doesn’t want these kinds of details. Really, I should have probably just run away and never looked back, maybe told my dad all of this after the baby was born.
I’m really freaking stupid.
Wringing my fingers together in my lap, I try to calm my breathing. Taking long inhales and exhales in an attempt to soothe myself so I don’t hyperventilate and pass out completely, because I feel like I could do that right about now.
“Continue,” he states, though I can hear the bite to his tone, and I don’t like it one bit. He knows something that he isn’t going to like is coming.
I do, but only because I opened this can of worms already. I shouldn’t have. I should have screwed the top of that can down and pretended it didn’t exist. But I’m fucked now. Deeply, truly, and royally fucked.
“Well, I met someone there and basically, well…” I’m unable to speak the words.
“Tell me,” my father grinds out.
“I’m pregnant.”
I lift my head, and the words just pour out of me, and as I look across the room at my father, who is now facing me, I wish I could take them back and stuff them down my throat. I wish I hadn’t said any of them.
“You’re… who the fuck did this?” he demands.
