We’d agreed to handle it after the weekend, no one wanting to mess up Gram’s birthday.
I clenched my hands at my sides. We’d underestimated them, and had no idea how many of them were left to fuck with us.
“You couldn’t have known,” I repeated as Will’s eyes filled with tears and he turned his head away.
“Fuckin’ pain killers,” he mumbled, slowly reaching up to swipe at his eyes.
“Got nothin’ to hide with me,” I said softly, averting my eyes. “You know that.”
“Sorry about that shit in the forecourt,” he said suddenly. “I was bein’ a fuckin’ idiot.”
“You wanna kiss and make up?”
“Fuck you,” he snapped, a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth.
“All forgotten,” I said seriously, leaning back in my chair.
“Can’t believe Micky’s gone,” he mumbled softly after a few moments, his face screwed up in a grimace. “I mean, I saw it. I was right there, but fuck. I see Tommy and I automatically look over his shoulder for Mick.”
I didn’t reply. What was there to say? His baby brother was dead, shot down at fourteen in a war we’d barely known we were fighting.
“My mom’s still pretty out of it—they’re keeping her doped up. What the fuck is she gonna do when she realizes he’s gone? She’s gonna fuckin’ lose it, man.”
“Grease’ll take care of her.”
“Who’s takin’ care of him?”
“She will.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” he murmured tiredly.
I thought about the space between Trix and I. We weren’t taking care of each other. In my mind, I knew that’s what was supposed to be happening—her leaning on me and me leaning back. That’s what Casper and Farrah were doing. Holding each other up, even though with Lily in the hospital, it meant they only saw each other in passing. But Trix wasn’t doing shit for me, and she wouldn’t let me close enough to help her, either.
“You’ll get it when you find the woman you wanna be with,” I finally said.
“You and Trix okay?”
“Yeah, we’re fine.”
“Where is she?” he asked curiously, looking around the empty clubhouse.
“Over at Dragon’s with Leo.”
“He doin’ okay?”
“Best he can, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Will sighed and then pushed himself slowly to his feet. “Should probably get over there to see him.”
“You sure you can make it?” I asked, only half joking. The guy looked like he was going to fall over.
“Got my mom’s car. I’ll drive,” he replied ruefully before turning to walk away.
I stayed seated as he left, then dropped my head into my hands once I knew I was alone.
I was so fucking tired. So overwhelmed.
I’d been pretty good at tamping all of the shit down tight, getting things done that needed to be done and pushing everything else away. But the longer it went, the harder it was to keep the burn in my chest at a manageable level.
I knew what was going to happen. I was going to snap.
They didn’t call me Hulk for no reason. Poet gave me the nickname when I was just a prospect after a crazy fight I’d had. Another club had come to visit, men we’d been friendly with for longer than I’d been alive at the time. Everything had gone like normal at first. Parties and barbeques and shit, just spending time with guys who held the same beliefs as us.
But there was one fucker, I couldn’t even remember his name anymore, who had it in for me. I was used to getting fucked with—that was the name of the game during the club’s probation period—but that didn’t mean I had to take shit from someone who wasn’t a brother.
I’d kept my mouth shut every time he’d made a fucking mess just to fuck with me, or made comments about what a piece of shit I was. My dad and the other guys were clearly having a good time with the other club’s members, and I wasn’t going to tattle like a pussy. So, it had just built and built, my body growing tighter and tighter as I’d dealt with his shit, until the night he’d had the bitch who’d been sucking him off in the main room of the clubhouse spit his cum on the floor and had loudly ordered me to clean it up.
I beat the hell out of him.
And the two brothers that had tried to step in.
From then on, I was Hulk. Mild-mannered and quiet until I just couldn’t keep that shit locked down any longer.
And I was getting to that point. The point of no return.
I wasn’t going to cry like a baby. I wasn’t going to piss and moan about shit—it wouldn’t change anything.
But all that emotion had to go somewhere. It had to get out somehow. And I knew that soon, it was going to push to the surface. God help the fucker that set it free, because I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to.