“No. Fuck no.” A cold drop of doubt extinguishes a few flames of my curiosity. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“Then what’s your end goal here? What’s with the questions?”
What am I hoping to accomplish? Grinder’s been through enough heartache. Why am I trying to poke at his scars? “I want to know how you handled it. How you stopped the regret from eating you alive. How you regained control and made sense of it.”
“I just told you, dipshit.” He slices his hand through the air in front of him. “Look forward to the future. Leave the past where it belongs.” His gaze shifts to the side. “I want to focus on my girl and make a life with her.”
My mouth quirks and I quickly glance down. No fucking kidding he moved fast with Serena. But I’ve said enough shitty stuff tonight. So, I manage to bite back the joke threatening to leap off my tongue. He seems at peace around her. That’s all that should matter.
“Speaking of,” he continues, “you got a beautiful firecracker you’re engaged to. I’m looking forward to attending my first post-incarceration Lost Kings’ wedding. Why the fuck you dragging your feet?”
I’ve held back as long as I can. “We can’t all sprint to the altar as fast as you’re trying to do, Grandpa.”
“Altar,” he grumbles. “Ain’t quite there, yet.”
“We all see it coming a mile away.”
He rolls his eyes instead of throat-punching me. Considering all the muscle he’s put on since he got out, it’s a good thing he keeps his fists clenched at his sides instead of launching one at my jaw.
“We were talking about your wedding,” Grinder prompts. “Come on. Entertain me.”
“I’m not dragging my feet. She’s planning things the way she wants them.” Sure. Keep telling yourself that.
“You’re dragging your feet in other areas, though, aren’t you?” he asks in a low voice.
I cast a quick glance around.
“No one’s listening to us. I might seem like an insensitive asshole, but I get why you’re hanging onto this one, Marcel.”
“Do you? Because I don’t.” That’s one truth I wasn’t able to voice to Rock. “I’m not ashamed, if that’s what you’re thinking. Well, not of him. My mother, yeah.”
“She was a kid too, don’t forget.”
I glare at him. “Not that much of a kid.”
He grunts in disagreement. “What are you so worried about? Club won’t care if you’re blood related. None of their fuckin’ business anyway.”
I’m not so sure I agree with that. The club members could start examining each interaction, assignment, or punishment differently once they know I’m the president’s son. But that’s far down on my list of concerns.
“I don’t know what it will do to Heidi and me.” I search the shadowy area. Between two pine trees, I make out the shape of Blake and Heidi’s tent. They can’t hear us from way over there.
“Or you and Blake?” Grinder asks in a low rumble.
“I—yeah, I guess.” I keep telling myself he won’t care and it won’t change anything. But that’s a lie.
“The longer you drag it out, the more it’s gonna hurt.” He follows my gaze. “The greater the risk of losing both of them.”
That’s one truth I can’t escape or mitigate.
“Trust me, son.” He claps a large hand over my shoulder, a warm contrast to the cool night air. “There’s no prison lonelier than the one you create for yourself.”