Page 131 of Tied to You

I’m not fully aware of the finer details.

Given no one has mentioned them and knowing that Travis killed some of them himself, clearly tells me all I need to know. No one will ever truly know what they did to them. And sometimes, not knowing is much easier to stomach.

Finding out Chopper was hanged and that Travis was the one who found him, explains why we still haven’t spoken since that night. He’s carrying far too much for one man to handle. Until he finds it in himself to talk to me—or anyone for that matter, he’ll continue to drown under the weight of it.

Watching it happen right in front of me is tearing me apart. Screaming at him doesn’t work. Shouting hasn’t helped either. All I can do is watch. It’s why, in part, I offered to help out here. Since Tanya took off right after the funeral, they’ve been understandably left short. It’s killing me working all day then coming here at night, but he just has to know I’m here. That I need him.

Dean was as equally thrown into a dark place he can’t find his way out from. He wouldn’t give me anything. I tried, I really did, but it’s a different kind of darkness with him. I’m not sure anyone will ever unlock it.

Using everything within my power to get him to talk, Rocco cracked and gave me small details when he could see what was happening around him. The guys have closed themselves off but are working around the clock, trying to carry on as normal. They’re burned out, on their last legs, but have no choice but to get shit done. They’ve come too far to let everything sail away now.

I haven’t yet been called to speak to any buyers, and quite frankly, I’m glad. I know Rocco trusts me enough to do so, but it would only create a bigger rift between Travis and me. Working behind the bar is one thing, watching your friends lose people due to club business, really is another.

Losing Chopper is proof that this life is fragile. One false move, and you lose everything. I get why Travis is scared. I understand his hesitation to let me back in. But he has to.

Whirlwind marriage or not, I saw the loss in Tanya’s eyes when she looked down at her bump, knowing the man she loved would never get to see his child. Every time I looked at Travis, his eyes were on me, gauging my reaction. They were the same as the ones watching me now, sitting from his place by the entrance.

Looking up, I make sure to let him know I see him watching.

Lifting his glass, his eyes never leave mine as he takes a sip, licking his lips when he’s done. The simple act makes my heart flutter. He looks hot. Wearing his black jeans and a long sleeve, black and white checkered shirt, his hat’s on, and he’s wearing it backwards.

Torture.

We haven’t touched each other properly since that night, either. It’s not felt right to try. Plus, apart from a few nights on the sofa, he hasn’t actually been around for me to get close to. The longer this goes on, the harder it’sbecoming to give him space.

Rocco coughs, and I look up. “What?”

He looks between me and Travis. “How’s he doing?” he asks me, like I should be the one to know.

“You tell me. He’s spent more time here than he has at home.”

Rocco clicks his teeth before taking another swig of his drink. He places the empty glass on the bar for another. “Fix it.”

My hand pauses, reaching for the bottle of Scotch. “Come again?”

“You have to fix it.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” He nods to the glass.

I pour with an unsteady hand. “I’ve tried.”

“You’re a smart girl. Try again.”

Twisting the lid on the bottle, I look at Travis. He’s talking to someone else, but he catches my eye. He watches, his lips still moving, then his eyes flit to Rocco who stands in my peripheral vision.

I look between them both, finally settling on Rocco.

“Fix it,” he says quietly, tapping the bar with his index finger. Then he picks up his glass and walks away to join Dean who’s just walked in.

He says it like it’s easy.

My eyes retrace their steps to Travis.

He stands, stretching his hands above his head, arching his back. There’s a small gap between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans. I see the dark trail of hair, and my bottom lip finds its way between my teeth.

Standing straight, he pulls at his shoulder, rotating it under his hand. It’s still hurting him. I’m not surprised. It’s not every day you get shot.