Page 12 of Trusting Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #8)

Chapter Ten

Lexie

N ot another package …

I roll my eyes and sit down beside Raffe.

“Jesse thought you could use some rest. She let you sleep in,” he tells me.

“Where are they?”

“They went for a walk.”

Good. I reach for the box, hoping I can be done with this part of the day before they get back. My heart breaks when I read his letter.

Lexie,

I’m sorry, but I don’t think I have a letter in me this week. It’s been tough. I thought I had come to terms with the things I’ve done, but I’m learning it’s the things I had to walk away from that keep me up at night. The women and children I wasn’t allowed to help.

Anyway, I kind of cheated on this week’s whittling project. You told me about your collection of hair pins one night when you were drunk and sad. It broke my heart. I hope this one becomes your prized piece, and a bigger part hopes it reminds you of me.

Ash

P.S. I handed you a pin that night, hoping you might show me. You didn’t disappoint. It took everything in me not to reach out and touch you there. The place you keep hidden behind your hair. Next time I’m not going to stop myself.

My body instantly ignites at the mere thought of him touching me there. It confuses me. It’s such an innocent place. My hands tremble as I twist my hair, pinning it up with my new favorite pin. It’s a perfectly polished piece of imperfect wood with a leaf carved at one end.

I trail the tips of my fingers over the back of my neck, branding this memory into the core of my brain. It feels like a turning point. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned anything about wanting to touch me. I had myself convinced I repulsed him. A bigger part of me still believes it.

Raffe compliments me, breaking my train of thought. “Very pretty.”

I cover my face with my hands, not believing him. “Whatever. Believe it or not, I did look in the mirror this morning.”

He tsks, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Jesse’s right. You’re always tearing yourself down.”

“If I had a little makeup on, maybe I’d feel better about myself.”

“I know about the hang up you have over your makeup.”

“I’m not hung up.”

He sighs loudly.

“Let’s just get into it. Why did they bring you here?” I sit up straight, ready to be done with this talk or whatever this is.

He smiles, and I see why all the women of the club swoon over him. Jackson’s dad is a very attractive man.

“Because you and I have something in common.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I run a sharp edge on my nail over my jeans, focusing on that in an attempt to ease the uncomfortableness of the conversation.

“A high body count.”

My face instantly flames, and my hands still.

“For me it was the control. If I gave it up, no one could take it from me.”

“That’s not why I do it. Most of the time it just happens, okay?” I pull the pin from my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders.

My thumb rubs over it like a talisman, hoping it might whisk me away from this awkward conversation. The last thing I want to do is have a sex talk with Jackson’s dad.

He watches me quietly. “Before I came up here, I went over your school records.”

I shrug. “I’m done with school, but good to know they’re protecting my privacy.”

This makes him laugh. “I know you finished school. I was at your graduation party.”

“I heard it was a blast.”

He leans forward and raps a little tune over the table with his knuckles. “You had straight A’s. Perfect attendance. Involved in quite a few activities.”

“Are you done eating?” I grab his plate when he nods, and I head to the kitchen to clean up. Unfortunately, he follows me.

“I’m wondering how someone who has the discipline to handle all that on her own, with no help from her family, still ends up in her own vomit most mornings.”

I shrug, because I’ve got no answer for him. “I don’t know. Elizabeth thinks it’s because I’m trying to hurt myself.”

He leans against the counter, watching me do the dishes. His ringed fingers tap over his mouth. “Yeah, I can see that. But I think we give people access to our bodies for many reasons. I don’t think it’s just one.”

“It doesn’t really matter why, does it?”

“It does if you want to get to the root of it and stop.”

And that right there is the kicker. Do I want to stop? I always go out with the intention of hooking up with someone. If it doesn’t happen, the night feels like a failure, and I go home more depressed than ever. I don’t think my brain is capable of overriding those thoughts.

He continues to assess me quietly as I finish the morning chores. When I’m done, I glance around, looking for something else to do to distract me from his looming presence.

“Can I give you a hug?” he asks suddenly.

My hands pause, and the dishcloth I was holding falls softly to the counter. “What?”

“Can I hug you?”

What a weird question to ask, but as with anything, I rarely deny people access to my body. “Yeah, sure.”

Raffe cautiously wraps his arms around me, careful to keep his hands high across my shoulder blades. When I don’t protest, he pulls me close.

My eyes fall closed, and my body breathes an instant sigh of relief. Because while I don’t know him very well, his intentions feel innocent, not icky.

It’s nice. Safe.

When I hear Jesse and Dirk walk in, I quickly back away from him.

I don’t want them to get the wrong idea. Really, I wasn’t trying to entice him.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Jesse says, picking up the hair pin from the table. “I’ve never been able to figure these damn things out.”

“It’s easy,” I tell her, stepping toward the table, thankful for her interruption. “My nanny taught me.”

She takes a seat, and I pull her long silver black strands into my hands. I twist and pin, admiring how soft her hair is. It’s very pretty. “I have a pin at home that would look beautiful in your hair.” My words fall flat, imagining all of my things being packed away by strangers.

Jesse heads to the bathroom to check out my handiwork. When she comes back out, she pulls it from her hair. “You’re a magician. There’s no way I’d be able to recreate that on my own.” She hands it back to me. “Let me watch you do it.”

I stand in front of her, reaching behind me and pulling my hair through the palm of my hand. I go slow, showing her just how my nanny showed me.

She pats my shoulder. “I love it. You look good with your hair up.”

I’m about to open my mouth that I look terrible with my hair up when I catch Raffe’s eye. His jaw clenches, and I know he’s getting ready to call me out for talking down to myself.

I force a smile on my face. “Thank you. I think I’m going to go outside for a bit,” I tell her as I back out of the room. I grab my pen and journal and scurry out the door.

Raffe gives me about an hour reprieve before interrupting me. He hovers over my shoulder. “You’re not hiding out here, are you?”

I snap the book closed. He doesn’t need to know that I’ve been out here doing nothing more than doodling.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins.

It makes me laugh lightly. “You’ll never figure me out, Raffe. You’ll think yourself right into insanity.”

He ignores my remark. “Why don’t you ever come on to anyone at the club?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“You had a perfect opportunity to make a move on me today, and you didn’t,” he continues.

“No offense, but you’re old.” I glance away, knowing damn well I’ve slept with men older than him.

He laughs. “I’ve looked at myself in the mirror, hun. I know I’ve still got it.”

“Whatever you want to tell yourself.” But he’s not lying. The man is fine as fuck. “Besides, how do you know I haven’t come on to anyone at the club?”

My mind races to find an example, but nobody comes to mind. He’s right. I can’t even remember a time I considered it. Surely I’ve at least flirted with one of them.

“Have you?” he asks.

“No,” I say, my brain still searching, not believing the results of its own conclusion.

“Why?”

It makes me angry that he’s trying to make me think about all of this stuff. “Maybe because you’re all a bunch of dicks.” Which is the biggest lie I’ve ever told, and I feel terrible for even saying it out loud.

Raffe doesn’t take offense. His head falls back and he laughs loudly, scaring a group of starlings from a nearby tree.

“I think you target men you know will use you.”

“I don’t target men, and why would I do that?”

He leans back, taking in the view. “Because then you won’t feel as bad for using them.”

“I’m not using them.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“You’re wrong.”

When he remains quiet, I get angry. “I let them use me. I’m not getting anything from them.”

“But you are, or you wouldn’t be doing it.”

“They get off, not me!” I shout, not even thinking about what I’m saying.

His silence infuriates me further.

“I don’t care what you think of me. It’s simple.

It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean a goddamn thing.

” I jump to my feet, screaming at him. “I get bored, okay? It’s something to do!

” I start to walk down a path that leads from the cabin, still yelling.

“There’s nothing to psychoanalyze. My parents don’t care, and neither should you! ”

I stumble, making me even more upset.

“I’m just stupid,” I mumble quietly to myself as I continue to walk away from him.

He follows. Jesus Christ, why can’t they just leave me alone?

“Go away.”

“I think …” he begins to say.

I stop abruptly, spinning on him. “Again with the thinking. Well, I think you’re wasting your time on me.”

“So, let me get this straight. You think you’re a waste of time unless you’re being fucked?” he asks calmly.

A little puff of air leaves my lungs as I struggle to hide my anger and shame. He’s purposely pushed me to my boiling point.

He sits down, leaning against a tree. “It feels good to have someone want you. Especially when you’re starving for connection.

But when you keep letting people take a piece of you without leaving something in return, it eventually leaves you empty again.

So, you reach for other things to fill the void. Drugs, alcohol.”

His hand runs through his hair. “What initially felt good begins to feel wrong. You start to dissociate, staring at the wall while some dude rails you from behind. And I don’t mean you. I’m talking about myself here.”

The way his voice cracks has me lowering myself to the ground to stare at him from across the path.

The longing that’s always lodged in the pit of my stomach eases.

His words dig deep with a shared familiarity that embeds itself in my heart.

My soul takes a heavy breath, filling the emptiness of the dark cavernous space in my chest.

His face softens in relief. He knows he’s finally got my attention. Not that I hadn’t been listening, I just refused to hear.

He’s just told me something so intimate, so incredibly personal, so real …

“Soon it becomes your whole persona. It’s how the world views you.

You begin to think it’s the only thing you’re good for.

The shame begins to eat at your soul, and you try to escape it by owning your promiscuity.

Because no one can think more badly of you than you.

Eventually the connection you were initially looking for begins to fade into something unrecognizable, and you’re left wondering how it all began. ”

Tears begin to fill my eyes, letting him know I not only understand but feel every word he’s saying.

“I promise you it’s not too late, Lexie. You’re not tarnished.”

I swipe at my eyes. “I don’t want Ash to be embarrassed by my past.”

He doesn’t argue with me. “I felt the same way with my wife, but I came to realize that I was the one projecting embarrassment onto her. Rachel accepted me without shame. Over time, I grasped that I could do the same.” His gaze narrows on me. “You have to let go of the shame, Lexie.”

“You act like I can just stop.”

“You can. Find that little girl inside you who was lonely. You find her and you bring her back here. Show her you survived. Show her you’ve found your people. Be her fucking hero, because you’re the only one who can be.”

He stands and pulls my sobbing, snotty self to my feet.

His thumbs brush my tears away. “We’re not bad people just because we looked for connection in the wrong places.

I know the road you’re on has become familiar, but you can’t stay on it, Lexie.

I know it’s scary, but you’ve got to make a turn. I promise it will be worth it.”

I push his hands away, ordering myself to stop crying. I’m trying so hard to hold onto my annoyance with him. How dare he give me hope for something more. “I don’t see any turn.”

“It’s just up ahead.” He takes the journal in my hand and presses it to my chest. “You’ll want to lighten your load before you get there.”

Frozen with indecision, I clutch the journal against my heart as my eyes follow his retreating figure down the path.

A little crow lands at my feet, pulling my attention away from him. He’s carrying something in his beak. I bend to pick it up after he drops it on the ground. He hops away but stays as if he’s making sure I retrieve it. It’s just a piece of asphalt.

I straighten and hold it up to the light. The little bits of gravel sparkle as pretty as stars against an inky night sky.

“I don’t see any turn.”

“It’s just up ahead.”

When I look back at the crow, he’s gone.