Craving Trix (The Aces' Sons 1)

“Ready?” Casper asked, wrapping a bandana over his flattened Mohawk. Mom must have cut his hair the night before.

“Yup.” I started up my bike.

Thank Christ it was almost over. Trix looked like she was going to fall over at any second. She was barely eating and she hadn’t slept in days, beyond a few naps at her parents’ house. She barely spoke to me.

She barely spoke to anyone.

I hadn’t been able to corner her, there was too much shit happening, too much to get ready and plan for. There hadn’t been time to make her talk to me.

I cracked my neck and slid my helmet on.

After this fucked up day was over, I was going to sit on a couch and drink until I couldn’t stand up again. Then tomorrow, I was going to figure out what the fuck was going on with my woman.

This shit had to stop, one way or another.

Chapter 20

Trix

I glanced across the crowded clubhouse and took a deep breath. I’d been mingling for over two hours and my feet were beginning to hurt in the shoes I’d borrowed from my mom. I hadn’t had anything to wear to a funeral—I hadn’t even been to one since I was a kid. If it had just been Slider and Vera, I would have felt comfortable in a nice pair of jeans and a tank top, but for Gram, I’d known I had to do better than that. Unfortunately, the only summer dress I’d had was getting too tight in the chest and belly, so I’d felt like I was wrapped in sausage casing all day.

I was ready to change into one of Cam’s t-shirts and get off my feet.

My family had taken a little time alone at my parents’ house to unwind after we’d finished burying Vera, Slider and Gram, but eventually we’d had to make our way back to the clubhouse. The reception—if you could call it that—was just as important as the procession of hundreds of bikers had been. It was a celebration of life, and Slider wouldn’t have wanted any other type of sendoff.

I’d also spent quite a bit of time with Cam that day. It was odd, his presence soothed me as much as it hurt. I was so jumbled up inside that I wanted him close, but the minute he got too close, all I wanted was for him to leave. I hadn’t told him that I was moving in with my parents yet. I didn’t want to deal with the fight that I knew it would cause, especially right before the funerals.

Everything hurt, from my eyelids to the tips of my toes. I felt so worn down, so overwhelmingly tired. When I tried to sleep, I had unbearable nightmares, but when I stayed awake, I was so weary I could cry. The lack of sleep made the flashbacks even clearer during the day, almost like hallucinations that I couldn’t seem to stop. I wondered if anyone else was dealing with the aftereffects of the attack like I was. If they were, they weren’t admitting it.

I swept my eyes around the room one more time, but I couldn’t see Cam anywhere. I wasn’t really surprised. There were so many people in the room that they brushed up against me constantly. My parents and Leo were over by the pool table, beers in hand. Leo wouldn’t be old enough to drink legally for years still, but I think my mom was giving him a pass for the day.

He’d been shot in the face—drinking beer seemed so insignificant in comparison.

Gramps and Nan were sitting a few bar stools down from where I was standing, and I caught Nan’s eye as I made my way toward them.

“I’m beat,” I told her quietly, leaning in for a hug. “I think I’m going to go lay down for a while.”

“Okay, baby,” she murmured back, looking closely into my eyes. “Get some rest, huh?”

“I’ll try.”

I pushed my way into the back hallway, and finally had some room to move. While the clubhouse was open for visiting members and friends, the hallway to the bedrooms was off-limits. A prospect that had been a few years behind me in high school stood guard.

When I reached Cam’s bedroom, I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a little quiet.

I pushed open the door and closed it behind me without turning on the light, cocooning me in darkness.

“You comin’ to bed?” a voice slurred, making me jump.

“Cam,” I sighed after a moment.

“Who’d you think it was?” he asked, and I could hear the sheets rustling underneath him.

“Why are you in here?” I replied without answering his question.

“Needed a couple minutes by myself,” he mumbled.

“Oh, I’ll just—”

“Don’t open that fucking door,” he snapped, making me freeze in my tracks.

“What’s your problem?” The hair on the back of my neck stood up, the darkness making his harsh words seem almost threatening.