Page 4

Blue

I left Jazzy’s, went to the MC, and grabbed my stuff from Blade’s room. Everything I owned fit into two saddlebags. And I still had more shit than Kiss. I had a few bucks from selling weed. I could grab her a change of clothes and girl things from the store. I’d ask Jazzy what she’d need because wearing Rogue’s shirt was one step away from wearing his cut.

Fuck that. Not happening.

By the time I returned to the house, Sully had set me up in a room and left a key to the back door on the counter. Before I headed out, I climbed the steps to Jazzy’s apartment.

I knocked, and Jazzy let me in. “She’s asleep.”

I sat in the chair across from her and braced my forearms on my knees. “I know you have questions. I have a few of my own. And before you start mothering me, I know I’m in over my head, but I can’t walk away.” I stared hard into her eyes. “I won’t leave her.”

“You can’t be here when she wakes up, so we need to talk fast.”

“Why you?”

“Because I’ve been through it. Not me, but people I care about. I know what to watch for and when to call for help. ”

“How bad is this going to be for her?” I hated the thought of her hurting. A medical detox would have kept her from suffering from the pain of withdrawal.

“I don’t know. A few days if she’s telling me the truth. She says she was using once or twice a day. Shooting and smoking. That’s not recreational. She’s going to have cravings for weeks, and she’ll fight the dragon for the rest of her life.”

I raked my fingers through my hair. “Fuck.”

“If you want to know if she’ll stay clean, I don’t know. You want stats, you can Google the numbers. They suck. Detoxing at home is a fast way to relapse, but treatment didn’t work for her, so maybe this is what she needs. Maybe you’re what she needs.”

“She was clean for a couple months, then I got hurt.”

Jazzy crossed her legs. “How do you even know her? Kiss hasn’t been at the MC for nearly a year.”

“A couple months ago, she came by Indulgence to talk to Bullet. I don’t know. We just clicked.” My jaw clenched. She’d been doing so well until that night, until she stepped back into the MC and had to face her demons. “I understand her.”

“She doesn’t want you to see her sick. Text me before you come up. And don’t get angry with her. She hates who she is on black, but she didn’t love the girl she was before either.”

I understood all too well what it was like to hate what you saw in the mirror.

“She needs clothes. What do I get her?”

Jazzy smirked. “Oh, I knew you were pissed. You didn’t like seeing your girl in Rogue’s shirt.”

“Fuck off.” I stood. “Text me what she needs. I’ll take care of it. You just take care of her. ”

Once on my bike, I rode over to Crew Custom Cycle. The old oil and lube center in the strip mall had been converted into a custom bike shop. Another unit had been converted to offices in the back and a showroom in the front. Romeo spent most of his time building café racers from old motorcycles.

Romeo and Dozer had a bike torn apart while Torch worked in the pit welding the frame.

“Is Rogue around?” I asked, sinking down on the worn leather couch in front of the glass windows.

“He’s down in the unit next to Hana,” Romeo said, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “Bullet is renting the space for his old lady. Sort of a wedding present. He and Rogue are putting in hardwood floors, mirrors, and benches. A place where Stormy can teach Lili and other little kids to dance.”

Torch came up the metal stairs. “Thought I heard your voice,” he said to me. “Rogue said you’re covering for Jazzy this week.”

“That’s the plan.” I glanced around the shop. Not only were there beautiful bikes in the showroom, but there had to be six or seven bikes in some state of repair. “Put me to work.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Dozer said, an unlit cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke. “Got a waiting list for custom rebuilds, and the repair work is steady.” He nodded toward the bike in the corner. “Hana put the custom paint on Sully’s ride. He brought it in with a rattle. Jazzy wanted to surprise him. I’m waiting on a sensor. Then she’s going to find a way to surprise him.”

“There’s a reason she’s her daddy’s princess.” I crossed to the bike. The tank had been airbrushed with Heller colors, smoke, and the flag .

Romeo laughed. “Only one she’s calling daddy is Rogue.”

That I already knew.

Dozer pulled his lighter from his pocket. “Jazzy handles deliveries, answers the phone, and works the showroom. But we can split duties if you wanted to work on bikes.”

“Cool.” I ran my hand over the tank. “This is fucking sick.”

Torch tossed a rag at me. “Get to work. The bike in the corner came in this morning. There’re gremlins in the electrical system. The battery won’t hold a charge. It could be faulty wiring.”

“I thought you worked on real bikes.” I laughed, checking out the cheap foreign cruiser.

“We call them Hardly a Davidsons, but they pay the bills.” Romeo pointed to the wall. “Overalls are on the pegs.”

Dozer and Romeo went back to the racer, Torch went back to the pit, and I got to work. Because no one questioned where Jazzy was, I wondered if Rogue had told them about Kiss.

Romeo laughed as Dozer couldn’t reach the screw he dropped into the bike. A string of curses mumbled around the cigarette clamped between his lips.

Kiss had told me some of the details about her relationship with Romeo. They hadn’t been good together, but they had a long history. He wasn’t her only issue. She hadn’t been a good friend to Levi. None of that seemed like a reason to run.

Maybe it was. Romeo and Levi were solid, but that didn’t mean there were unresolved issues between all three of them .

How would Romeo feel about her being back in the MC? Did it really matter? Kiss claimed she didn’t want Romeo. I believed her because she put out the vibe that she was into me. She’d get over it and lose interest once she figured out I couldn’t fuck her.

The psychiatrists said I had psychological issues. But according to the shrink, the abuse and childhood trauma never happened. Tell that to my dick. I remembered every fucking detail of the sick shit that supposedly never happened. But the psychiatrist claimed I had an unhealthy preoccupation with sex and created dangerous accusations regarding authority figures.

Fuck doctors.

I definitely hated authority, and I did have a preoccupation with sex. I wanted Kiss. I wanted her to touch me. I wanted her on her knees, with those blue eyes focused on me while I fucked her luscious red lips. Disturbed didn’t come close to how I wanted her.

If I could stay hard, I’d want to do filthy things to her. Shit I shouldn’t want. More of the fucked up programming in my brain that never happened .

I focused on the repairs, but my thoughts replayed Kiss on the back of my bike. Fuck, but I loved the feel of her hands on my abdomen when she was riding behind me. I could almost believe that fear wouldn’t slip like poison through my veins if I ran my hand along her thigh or wedged her hand between my legs to feel my cock.

I hardened at the images in my mind. This was the fucked up shit in my head. I could fuck my fist to thoughts of her, but if she touched my dick, I’d go soft.

My phone pinged with a text. I tossed the wrench to the side and opened the message .

Jazzy: She’s not keeping anything down. Can you bring her Gatorade at lunch? I always take at least an hour lunch, so don’t let the guys give you shit.

I smiled in spite of the purpose for the text. I hated this. I wanted to be there to hold her head while she puked and make her promises—promises only she could keep.

I’d promise that she’d get through it.

I’d promise the worst was over.

I’d promise that she was stronger than the dragon she was chasing.

As I spent the morning tearing apart the motorcycle, the phone rang, a customer dropped off their bike, and a few people came into check the inventory.

Rogue stopped in late-morning. “Take a walk?”

“Yeah.” I stepped outside with him, and he smoked a cigarette.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Good. No one has asked why I’m working at the shop.”

“I told them Jazzy had some things to do, and you were filling in. They don’t need to know anything else.”

We walked the length of the building, and I slid my hands into my pockets. “They’ll eventually find out.”

“No doubt. But I figured when is up to you and Kiss. I did talk to Bullet. He deserves to know what’s going on.”

I had mixed feelings about my friendship with Bullet. It came with conditions. I didn’t owe him my private business. Because he’d decided I didn’t need to know about his fucked up situation with Stormy, I’d nearly lost Kiss.

We took a few more steps. “Does he have a lecture for me? ”

“Yep.” He took a drag off his cigarette. “Same lecture I have for you.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You might not be feeling it now, but you’re our brother. I know you have something with Kiss. Have you thought about what happens if the MC is a bad influence on her?”

I had, and I hoped I never had to choose. My Harley and the MC were my lifelines. But I’d been without Kiss for six weeks, and somehow, she’d become my heroin. I needed to hear her laugh and feel her warm breath on my skin. I needed to know she was safe. I didn’t want anyone touching her. I’d fuck up anyone who tried.

With her in my life, I could breathe again. Light seeped into the black hole she’d left in my chest when she’d walked away from me. I couldn’t keep her from harming herself if she wasn’t with me. And I didn’t want to be without her.

After Rogue showed me the work he was doing on the dance studio, I went back to the shop, and keeping my eye on the clock, I finished pulling the wiring on the bike.

“Text Blade what you want for lunch. He’s picking up Jay Swings,” Torch hollered from the pit.

“Hey, do you guys mind if I bounce for lunch?” I shrugged out of the coveralls. I didn’t want a pub burger or fries. I wanted to see Kiss.

Dozer wiped his hand on a rag. “If you’re working Jazzy’s schedule, returning is optional.”

Squatting next to a motorcycle, Romeo laughed and adjusted the chain.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I hung the overalls on the peg, washed my hands, pulled my bike keys from my pocket, and headed out. On the way to Jazzy’s, I stopped by a supercenter store. Because my saddlebags were empty after unloading my stuff into the spare room at Sully’s, I was able to get the drinks along with a few other things.

I had to admit, I was a little concerned Kiss wouldn’t want to see me.

Blue: I’m here. Can I come up? My heart ratcheted up as I sent the text.

I grabbed the items from the saddlebag. Before I climbed the stairs to her apartment, I waited for her reply.

Jazzy: I’m coming down.

Fuck. I didn’t want to leave without seeing Kiss. Five minutes was all I needed to get my fix, to breathe in the scent of her, to feel the heat of her body, to know her heart was still beating.

A moment later, the door opened. Jazzy jogged down the steps, and I crossed the driveway.

“How is she?”

“Good.” She took one of the bags from my hands. “You can go up, but I wasn’t sure if you knew what to expect. She’s not really talkative. She hurts everywhere, and she has a headache. The girl is just riding it out. She hasn’t asked for anything—except you.”

Jazzy was right behind me as I took the steps two at a time.

Inside the apartment, Kiss curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket over her. A soft smile curved her mouth. This girl. All I wanted to do was chase the fear from her eyes.

I sat next to her. I didn’t need to ask her how she felt. Dark circles smudged under her eyes. Her lips were pale, and her blue eyes drained to a soft gray. I set the bag on the floor .

Jazzy finished putting the drinks in the fridge, then brought one to Kiss. “I can give you a minute alone,” she said. “I’ll go make my dad a tuna sandwich. Do you want one?”

Kiss shook her head.

“We’re good,” I said. “Thanks, Jazzy.”

She left, and Kiss released a heavy exhale. “Why is it harder this time? I can’t stop thinking about black. My head hurts, every muscle in my body hurts, and I’m sick.”

“Tell me what you need.”

She lowered her head. “Will you hold me?”

Jesus, the soft tone of her voice seeped into my chest and squeezed. “Yeah.” I tugged the laces on my boots, yanked them off, and then stood to take off my cut. Kiss scooted back into the couch to make room for me, but she seemed to flinch from the effort. “Change your shirt. I’m not snuggling up to Rogue.”

“I don’t have anything else.”

As she spoke, I pulled a pink oversized T-shirt from the bag. “I got you some stuff.”

She sat up. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re not wearing Rogue’s clothes.” I didn’t want her in Jazzy’s clothes either. Call me an ass. I didn’t care. Jazzy had her style, and it didn’t fit Kiss.

Kiss was jeans and tight T-shirts. Inked and pierced, Jazzy liked to show skin. She was a patched member of the MC. When hit, she hit back harder.

With Kiss, she would fight but fear every punch. The hits, both those she’d been given and those she’d taken, had left scars. Drugs gave her a way to cover them.

I handed her the bag. She sifted through the items. Another shirt, a pair of shorts. Her gaze snapped up. “ You bought me granny panties?” She held up the package.

“I wanted you to be comfortable.”

Her eyes brightened, and she covered her mouth with her hand as a laugh bubbled out of her.

I snatched the underwear from her and shoved them back into the bag. “I’ll give them to Jazzy for Christmas.”

“I’ll wear them. I just didn’t take you for a granny panties guy. Do you wear tighty whities?”

I dug in the bag and grabbed a small box. The prepaid flip phone was cheap, but it had unlimited talk and text and a small amount of data. “Not since I was a kid,” I said about her question of my underwear. “And they weren’t white.” I handed her the phone. “They had Batman on them.”

“I bet you were cute as a kid.” Her brows pinched. “You shouldn’t have gotten me a phone. I sold the last one.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t a smart phone. You’d only get ten bucks for it.” I laughed. “As for being a cute kid? Nah, I was a terror, and you still need to change the shirt. I can step outside to give you privacy.”

Her chuckle turned to silence. “I…I…”

“Or I can just turn around.” I gave her my back.

“I’ll need help.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

She held the shirt in her lap. “It hurts to move.”

“Fuck. Yeah. Okay.”

“I’m not wearing a bra.”

I paused. “Do you want me to get Jazzy?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to ask her to help me dress after everything else she’s doing for me. Can you help me? ”

I nodded, sat next to her again, and she leaned forward. Heat slipped through my veins as I lifted Rogue’s shirt over her head. My knuckles grazed her flesh. I stilled, feeling the softness of her skin.

Six weeks had taken a toll on her body. A little thin and fragile, her clavicle bones protruded from her skin, and I could see the ladder of her ribs. She still had hips and a peach of an ass.

Blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders and curled over her pretty pink nipples. She was still fucking perfect with breasts to fill my palm. The beat of her heart fluttered in the translucent flesh of her neck. I swallowed the extra spit in my mouth.

My hands trembled as I tugged the price tag from the new shirt and carefully lifted it over her head. She whimpered as she fit her arms through the holes. Then she shifted back on the couch. I stretched out next to her, and she curled into me. Facing each other, my arms wrapped around her, and I held her close.

Touching. Snuggling. I didn’t snuggle. Just taking a breath had fear piercing through the cage holding my heart.

Kiss needed me. I could fucking do this. Sweat trickled along my spine but had nothing to do with the heat of her body radiating into mine. As long as she lay still, I could handle the intimacy. I could touch her, but I just couldn’t have her hands on me.

“Is this okay?” she whispered. Her face rested against my chest, and she drew in a deep inhale.

“I told you, whatever you need.”

Her fingers plucked at my shirt, and her gaze lifted. “But I know you hate this.”

Even when she’d crashed at Indulgence, we’d lay next to each other, but we wouldn’t cuddle. I couldn’t have her spooning with me, her ass nestled against my groin.

“I’m good.” I tried to breathe through my anxiety. She wasn’t wrong, but she couldn’t understand. I hated what her touch did to me because my fear owned me.

“Did you go to the shop?” Her gaze lifted to mine. “I’ve been driven by it once, but we didn’t stop or anything.”

“I figured I’d be doing oil changes, tire repairs, and chain work. I can fix bikes, but I don’t have the experience of those guys. Dozer put me to work on a bike with electrical issues.”

“I don’t even know those guys anymore. I got out of treatment, went to the MC, and relapsed the next day.”

“What happened?” I combed her hair from her face, the delicate strands sifting through my fingers.

“I thought I’d come home, and everyone would be the same. Only everyone had changed—except me. I guess some things were still the same. I don’t know why you want to be my friend when I’m not very likeable.”

“I won’t deny you’re a pain in the ass.”

Her brows furrowed.

“I’m teasing. You’re very likeable.” More than likeable. Her strength had been forged from a fucked up life. I didn’t just like her. I was obsessed with her.

Long lashes fringed soft, blue eyes. Her mouth was a wet dream. Tension thickened between us. Quiet surrounded us. Whispers of breath floated over her slightly parted lips.

Blood rushed into my cock, leaving me emotionally unsteady. The moment stretched. I could close the space between our faces, press my lips to hers, and slide my tongue into her mouth. I could force my mind to focus on Kiss .

Anxiety coiled in my gut. Her hand slid onto my hip with a feathering touch. I inhaled a sharp shallow breath. Her fingers were gentle and feminine. But my body responded as if another’s hands were holding me down, whispering to me that I feel so good.

Shivers broke along my flesh. Oxygen froze in my lungs, yet fire scorched through my system while a black stew of hate and violence bubbled and gurgled in my guts.

Her gaze tried to hold me. She inched closer, her hand gliding onto my waist.

Panic constricted my throat. My heart pounded, sending the heavy thudding vibration through my body. My nerves had sweat instantly dampening under my arms and dripping down my back.

Warm breath touched my lips, suffocating and stealing my air. My balls retracted close to my body, and my dick deflated. I shifted away from her and jolted from the couch.

“Blue?”

“I need to pee.” I headed across the room, entered the bathroom, and used every ounce of willpower not to slam the door. I gasped for a breath, and the sharp, cutting pain of adrenaline knifed through me.

I rested my forehead against the door, breathed hard and fast, and tried to calm my rampant pulse. My hands balled into fists. I wanted out of my fucking head.

I remembered his lecherous stares and the sick feel of his hands on me, covering my mouth to keep me from crying. He’d rub himself against me. Never when anyone could see. Always with the promise of consequences if I made a sound, if I talked about our little secret, if I tried to resist.

If I told anyone .

At ten, with the first touches, I’d been petrified with fear. By twelve, he was jacking me off and telling me it was my fault. By the time I was thirteen, he wanted more, and the threats started. I believed him because he had receipts. He’d taken photos, both of what he’d done to me…and what he’d had me do to him.

I could still hear his voice.

“You can’t blame me, Brantley.” He locked the door to the boathouse. Because of him, I hated summers on the lake. I hated swimming even though I was good at it. I hated wearing a speedo and feeling exposed. “Competition swimmers can’t wear swim trunks,” he said.

I wasn’t at a meet. This was our family vacation. It didn’t matter.

“You have a beautiful body. Don’t be ashamed to show it to me. You’re young and strong. It feels good to touch and be touched.”

He ogled my long legs and my thin but muscular arms. And more. He liked my chest and stomach. Concave but I had a muscular core. I fucking swam every day.

“I know how hard it is to fight against this. It’s okay to be afraid because you don’t want anyone to know.” He closed the space between us. “I can keep your secret. I won’t tell anyone what you’re making me feel, what being around you is making me do. You’re special, Brantley. No one makes me feel the way you do. Only you.”

I wanted to puke.

“It’s okay that you’re inexperienced, and you’ve been told what we do is wrong. But I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want.” His fingers trailed down my chest, over my abs, and he grazed his knuckles along the V of my groin.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. Fear laced my blood, and unshed tears burned in my eyes. I was hot all over .

He slid his hand into my speedo. “If you didn’t want me to touch you, I wouldn’t be attracted to you.” He stroked me until I was hard. I got hard eating a peanut butter and jelly. Maybe that wasn’t the best analogy. I did want to eat a PB and J. But I didn’t want my best friend’s dad, and my own dad’s best friend to touch me. An arrogant smile curled his lips as my dick hardened in his fist. “Ah, see. I was right.” He dropped to his knees…

I shook from the memory, slamming my fist into the wall, splitting the skin. Blood smeared across my knuckles. I slammed it again and again, busting through the drywall. Carl Douglas ruined my fucking life.

Kiss

I stood in the kitchen. Jazzy wrapped her arms around me as I trembled. Blue was in the bathroom losing his shit. We didn’t need to be in there with him to realize he was punching the wall separating the bathroom from the bedroom.

“I keep hurting him,” I said. “I don’t even know when I’m doing something wrong.”

A loud curse echoed from behind the door, then it opened, and Blue stepped out with a bloody hand towel wrapped around his fist.

“Blue—”

“Stop, Jazzy. I’m not asking for your fortune cookie advice.”

She’d been sympathetic until he opened his mouth. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Drop the attitude. This is my fucking house. If I needed a remodel on my bathroom, I would’ve asked. What the fuck happened in there? ”

He stilled, then dipped his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll replace this,” he said of the towel. “And I, uh, I’ll come by after I finish at the shop to fix the wall.”

“No. You’ve done enough.” Jazzy stepped toward him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can’t handle your drama, too. This is my home. You don’t get to come in and start busting it up.”

Blue dropped his head, and he soaked up more blood from his hand with the towel. “You think I don’t know that?”

“There is something going on with you. If you need to punch something, Rogue will take you to the basement. Talk to him or Bullet or talk to Cruz, but you need to talk to someone.”

“I can handle my own shit,” he said, grabbed his cut, and shrugged it on.

Jazzy snorted. “Handle it somewhere else. You need to go. And maybe you should stay away a couple of days.”

Oh no, not that. Keeping Blue away meant I wouldn’t see him either.

“Blue, I love you, but your drama won’t help Kiss. “

He strode toward the door and paused with his hand on the knob. “I know.”

“Wait.” I rushed across the room. I didn’t touch him, afraid he’d pull away from me again. He stared into my eyes, and something inside me broke. “It was my fault.”

He touched my cheek. “You don’t get to own this one. I fucked up.” His hand fell away. He walked out the door and jogged down the steps.

Not even the pressure in my head could drown out the sound of his bike firing. The pipes roared, and he left. Emotions clawed up my chest and lodged in my throat. I tried to swallow around the lump .

I closed the door and turned to Jazzy. “It is my fault. I keep pushing him.”

Jazzy leaned against the kitchen counter. “Blue isn’t a fighter. This” —she wiggled her finger between me and the bathroom— “this isn’t Blue. He laughs, he jokes, he just doesn’t chase girls. Now, I find out he has a crazy fixation on you, and he’s punching holes in my bathroom wall.”

“I know what you’re thinking, but we’re not fucking. We’re close, but just friends.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. We were on the couch. Just talking.” I chewed on my lip. “Jazzy, he’s everything to me. Every. Fucking. Thing.” I tapped my chest with every word. “I think about him all the time. I know I’m a mess, but I wanted to kiss him. It seemed like he was going to kiss me, and then he just snapped.” I couldn’t keep tears from filling my eyes.

I grabbed the blanket, wrapped it around my shoulders, and curled into the corner of the couch to cry. Jazzy joined me.

“Listen, you have one focus, and that is getting clean. Whatever problem Blue has, you can’t make it your problem.”

Just because I understood where she was coming from, didn’t mean I agreed with her. For months, Blue had been there for me. Even if he didn’t feel the same about me, I would be there for him. If friendship was all I could have, it was more than enough and still more than I deserved.

While the new phone charged, I rested on the couch, and Jazzy worked on her laptop. My stomach seemed to calm down, and I ate some crackers.

I thought about black, and I worried about Blue .

“You said Blue doesn’t chase girls, but is he close to anyone at the MC?” He could feel about someone else the way I felt about him.

Jazzy glanced up from her computer. Her shoulders relaxed with a gentle exhale. “If I had to guess, I’d say he’s closest with me. He gives me shit, and I give him shit. He rides with Cruz most of the time.”

I glanced down at the phone in my hand.

She stood, came over, and sat next to me on the couch. “Kiss, I’m with Rogue. What I have with Blue is completely different. We tease and banter, and most of the time it’s completely inappropriate. But I can absolutely promise you that there is no sexual chemistry between us. He’s the same with all the girls.”

Over the months, Blue had rented me motel rooms when I didn’t have anywhere to stay. He never made a move.

We crashed at Indulgence. He never made a move.

I’d ridden on the back of his bike. Nothing.

I’d strutted around in a towel, flirted, and gave the sleepy come fuck me eyes. According to Jazzy, he friendzoned all the girls. Maybe there was more to his friendship with Cruz. Maybe Blue was lowkey vibing on him. “Is Blue gay?”

Jazzy didn’t immediately refute the idea. Her head tilted. “Honestly, I don’t know. Cruz is fucking crazy. I think he’d fuck anyone as long as it felt good. But I don’t get that vibe off Blue.”

I thought about the things Blue had said to me. About how he couldn’t get out of his head. Blue was like an open book with blank pages. He smiled, laughed, and did favors for friends. He didn’t seem to have enemies. Everyone liked him. But no one really knew him. No one knew his story .

“What about his family?”

She shrugged and stood from the couch. “He never talks about them.”

“He’s never told me about them, either.” But I’d shared everything about my mom and her addiction. Mine and Blade’s mom popped pills like Skittles.

At least Sherry stuck around for Blade. My mom chose drugs over me. Although Blade had a dick of a father. I had a good dad, but looking back, I couldn’t call him a good parent. I’d ditch school, and he’d tell me not to get caught. I smoked weed. He’d tell me to get it from Razor. Back then, Blade’s dad was prez of the Hellers. He might have been a dick, but he had all the good shit.

There had to be a reason Blue never talked about where he came from and about his family. After I told him my dad was dead, wouldn’t he have said something about his parents? If they were dead, he would have. They had to be estranged for a reason. Maybe he was gay and afraid to say anything. I didn’t know a Heller who didn’t talk about pussy…except Blue. No one in the MC would care, not with Blade as president and my former friends on the board. Sheesh, Jazzy was patched.

She returned to the table. “Give him a few days. This is obviously a lot for him to handle, too.”

“What about the holes in the wall?” We’d seen the bathroom. He’d left his mark. Rogue wasn’t known for keeping his composure with others. Blue getting upset and punching a wall was going to piss Rogue off. “I don’t want to cause Blue any more trouble, and it really was my fault.”

“Baby girl, you have enough of your own problems. You don’t need his, too. You kiss boys. Blue knows that. Besides Rogue will be more worried about Blue than the wall.” She checked her phone. “He should be here soon.”

“What about Blue? Can he still stay with Sully?”

Jazzy pivoted to me. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on you. He’s not helping in your recovery.”

Actually, he was. Without him, there wouldn’t be any recovery at all. If Jazzy needed to know where my head was at, I’d tell her. I wasn’t just getting clean, I was also coming clean. Lying was so much easier.

“I can’t stop thinking about black. I know I have to stay away from needles. I wouldn’t trust myself to be in a room with it even though, right now, I tell myself I’m not going to use. I just wish I didn’t feel like shit. My head hurts, but I know this is about getting through the worst. I feel like I have the flu.” Chills followed the sweats. I wasn’t feeling sick to my stomach, but I didn’t want to eat.

And now my stomach tumbled because I worried about Blue. Jazzy offered me a couple of Tylenol PMs. I popped two and snuggled into the couch. Sleeping away this horrible feeling sounded like a good idea to me.