It Happens (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 6)

I mean, once or twice taking your brother’s side in an argument, sure. That’s understandable. He’s your brother. But I wasn’t a wimp. I could handle my own. And for me to say something at all meant that it was really bad.

Which I’d tried to convey to Eitan multiple times. But there was only so much terrorizing one could handle before they had enough.

Consequently, that day had been the day that enough had been enough, and I’d left.

Unfortunately, all of them had followed, even my perfect sister who had stayed quiet just like she always did when Eitan and Ezekiel teamed up against me.

I hadn’t been in a very good mood, and that had shown the minute they’d all followed me outside in the pouring rain.

Thinking back now, I knew that being outside in that storm hadn’t been the best of ideas in the first place.

The storm itself had already been producing tornados all over the state from the moment that it’d appeared. By the time it’d reached us, the storm hadn’t abated in intensity, but grown.

The lightning was going crazy, and the sky was so dark that it appeared to be night even though it was four in the afternoon.

I felt my stomach start to churn just like it always did when I thought about that night.

My actions, at least peripherally, had caused two people to die. My sister and my boyfriend.

I didn’t think that there would ever come a time that I didn’t, at least a little bit, blame myself.

But I hadn’t been the one to stop me underneath the biggest goddamn tree in the neighborhood, Zee had.

“You blame me just as much as I blame you,” Zee pointed out. “Let’s just agree to disagree.”

I stopped swinging and allowed the heels of my black knee-high boots to drag in the soft dirt underneath the swings.

I didn’t reply to him, though.

What would be the point?

This was an old argument. One that served no purpose to bring up again.

But, since he was in the mood for it, I’d willingly offer him the fight he was so obviously searching for.

“Fine, I do blame you,” I blurted. “If you’d have just given me a fucking break, left me the hell alone, and not messed with me all the goddamn time, then I wouldn’t have had to tell Eitan that I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

Zee narrowed his eyes. “You’re blaming your breakup with my brother on me? Am I hearing that correctly?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m blaming it on you. If there was ever a time that Eitan had to choose—or Annmarie for that matter—they always chose you. Always. Why is that?”

He clenched his jaw tightly shut for a few long seconds before saying, “Because you were a bitter shrew.”

I laughed. “You’re so fucking full of it. I wasn’t a shrew. I was pissed that you always got them to be on your side. Do you know what that’s like? Not only did Annmarie always pick you, but so did Eitan. It was like I was a fourth wheel.”

He sighed. “You weren’t a fourth wheel. And they chose your side, too.”

I shook my head.

“No, they really didn’t,” I told him. “If there was a side to be had, yours always was the one chosen…by them. Our parents, though? They usually knew when it was me being bad or when it was you.”

“Whatever.” He snorted. “You’re making shit up now.”

I just shook my head, more than aware that the conversation would be degrading from here.

“Why are you talking to me, anyway?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” he admitted.

I stood up from my swing and started to head back to the mortuary. “Well, do me a favor. The next time you think you may want to—talk to me, that is—don’t.”

With that, I walked away and managed not to look back.Chapter 7How to have the perfect body while eating like a fat piece of shit.

-Books I wish someone would write

Jubilee

“Turner,” I whined. “This better be good!”

“Not Turner,” my father grumbled. “It’s me. I thought we were meeting for breakfast?”

I cursed and threw the covers off of my body and sat up on the side of the bed to catch my equilibrium.

“What time is it?” I asked through a yawn.

“It’s ten past when you said you’d meet us here,” he informed me. “Get a move on.”

Then he was gone, leaving me staring at my black bedroom wall and wondering if maybe I could skip just this one time.

A text came through moments later, letting me know that if I skipped, I’d regret it.

Snickering, I got up, slipped my feet into my black combat boots—thank God I got cold last night and wore clothes to bed—and headed to the bathroom.

Once I’d brushed my teeth and used the facilities, I was out the door and heading to our usual early morning dining spot.