Page 10 of Broken Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #7)

Chapter Nine

JD

S he’s quiet as I walk with her down the steps. Once we’re back in the little room I built for myself, she finally speaks.

“The friend you spoke of. Is she Kelsie’s mother?”

I sit down beside her on the bed. “She is.”

“Do you think she would do anything for her daughter?”

I nod, wondering where she is going with this.

She stares at the open door. “I don’t know how to continue on after everything that’s happened.”

“You don’t have to continue. You start over.”

“Again, you make it sound so easy.”

“Think back to when you were happy. If there was a time when you were truly happy. Start there. Or just completely start over. Forget all that shit in your past. The way I look at it, you have a clean slate.”

“I’m too infected with the bad shit to forget it.”

“Okay, so maybe you’re right. We can’t forget, but you sure as hell can purge yourself from some of it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve done it.” I stand up. “I’ll talk to you at supper.”

Her hand shoots off her leg, as if she’s going to reach out and stop me from leaving, but she lets it slowly fall back to her lap.

When I return later on, with her meal, I anxiously wait for her to speak to me first. She doesn’t disappoint.

“I was happy the day you stopped me from jumping off the edge of that cliff.”

I laugh at this, because it makes me happier than I’ll admit that she’s talking to me. Women don’t like to talk to me much. I mean, I’m handsome enough, I guess, but my looks don’t override my peculiarity.

“Strange way to show it.” I light up a cigarette, blowing smoke over my head.

“I was.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No. I do. I don’t think you’re a liar.”

“Well, you’d be the first.”

I remain quiet, because I’m letting her lead the conversation.

“What do you think I am?” she finally asks.

I flick my lighter, staring into the flame. I debate with myself how far to push this conversation. “I think you’re a woman who’s been protecting what’s hers.”

And that is where our conversation ends.

I wait for about an hour before walking up the stairs, leaving her alone in the dark.

Before going to bed, I water my mom’s plants. “I think she’s the best broken thing I’ve ever collected,” I tell them. Or my mom.

Whoever is listening.