Page 568 of Hell Hath No Fury
I barely get a chance to decode what the fuck that means when a reply from Delilah slides down over the top of my screen.
Haven’t seen either of them downstairs since this morning.
Fuck.
CHAPTER FIVE
Beth
The dull hum of voices in the parlor beneath me seeps into my consciousness as I stretch out my sore body and will my eyes to stay open. I crashed hard yesterday, even harder once I’d endured the nightmare that was washing Heather down the drain.
I still don’t know where they’ve taken her. All I can hope is that it’s not out in the worker’s cottage. She deserves more than to be taken care of in the same building our club disposes of those it despises.
The burn of the skin underneath my eyes reminds me that they’ll be swollen from my tears. My ribs ache from an evening spent sobbing by Dagne’s side while she stroked my hair back and reminded me everything runs its course. How is it she can remain so resilient when she was there too? She saw what I did—went through the same trauma.
I hate that it makes me feel weak, but maybe I am. Perhaps Crackers’ assumptions about me at the start were correct: I’m too soft for this life.
I slide a leg toward the other side of the bed, aware that it’s empty. My flesh hits the cool linen, and I jerk my foot back, seeking my warm pocket of bliss. Maybe Dagne’s already downstairs having breakfast. I should probably do the same, considering I skipped dinner last night. But I couldn’t stomach a goddamn thing and with the way my gut roils now, I guess nothing’s changed.
Another few minutes couldn’t hurt. Although, I slept more last night than I have in months. Plus, nature demands I get my ass out of bed anyway.Only one way to face the day, Beth.And that’s by hitting it head-on. Moping in bed might sound like a great idea, but all I do is delay the inevitable hurt when I head down to the first floor and find something key missing.
Or should I say, someone.
Whether I face it today or tomorrow, Heather will still be gone, and it’ll still hurt. The best thing I can do for myself right now is stomach the pain and take the first step to move past it. With a reluctant groan, I shuffle myself sideways across the bed and then propel toward the side until I melt onto the floor in a puddle. Ass on the floorboards and back against the mattress, I stare across the room at my pile of discarded clothes beside the wash basket. I should have just burned the fucking things last night, but I barely had the energy to drag my ass back to bed let alone think about starting a fire.
“You okay down there?”
I lift my head and find Dagne in the doorway, a small Ziploc bag in hand stuffed with the cosmetics Hooch bought her. “Where are you going?” She’s a drifter through and through. A free spirit with her wild hair and tanned skin. I’d just hoped he’d managed to lock her down.
“Not sure yet.” She shrugs and toys with the bag in her hands.
“How long?” I lean my weight on one hand and then push to my feet. “Is this, like, a few days kind of thing, or…”
Her lips flatten. “It’s or.”
“Dagne.” I drop my ass to the side of the bed, hands clasped between my knees. “Why?”
“I can’t stay if he won’t prioritize me at all.”
“They’re caught up in some messy shit—”
“I know.” She enters the room with a huff and dumps her baggie on the bureau. “But I’m not asking to be his main focus, Beth. I just wantsomeof his time.”
I grind my molars and study her with a sigh. We talked about this yesterday when the guys left, how Hooch has feelings for her. The guy has lived one messed up life, recently losing his father and baby sister within the space of days, then to think he would lose his only remaining sibling when the shit hit the fan last week. I honestly feared this would be one blow too many for the guy; we’d lose him to his addictions. But Dagne pulled him out. It was her love that meant he came home. That he faced his demons head-on and shared his fears with the club.
As he should have.
“Can you give him a little longer?” I ask gently.
“And then what?” She sighs, moving to sit beside me. “Something else comes up and I give him a little longer again, over and over until we’re stuck in this thing neither of us can see a way out of.”
Her observation hits a little hard, and I raise a hand to my throat to ease the constriction. Isn’t that what Crackers and I are stuck in? This dance we’ve done so many times that we can’t imagine ourselves as anything else.
He’s the VP of the club and I’m—what?—his favorite hooker?
I hate the term but renaming myself doesn’t distract from the fact I took my place in this house knowing that I’d pay my way using my body. Knowing it was the better option.
“If this is the right decision,” Dagne says, “then it’ll work itself out naturally.” She gives a half-smile. “If I’m meant to be here with Hooch, then the Universe will bring me back.”
