Keeping Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 2)

“I didn’t tell her shit about Lyla,” I snarl, pissed off. This is just a reminder of the secrets I’m keeping from Jasmine, and it’s clear, especially after tonight, that my Red isn’t the type of woman who likes secrets.

“Then what?” Ford presses and if I didn’t love my brother, I’d hate the fucker right now.

“I made the mistake of trying to tell her about Daisy.”

“Oh fuck, Grunt. I thought you were smarter than that,” Jonesy replies. I take a swig of my beer and hold my head down. Just that small movement hurts like fuck, but I ignore the pain.

“I did too.”

“Damn boy, what got a hold of you?” Sledge asks. Sledge is one of the original members. He and Ford started the club together. He sits in on votes and always attends church, but he retired from a position in the club years ago. Ford didn’t like it, but Sledge was dealing with personal shit, so no one questioned him. Craven took over as VP, but he and Ford are like oil and water sometimes. They both want the same things for the club, they just don’t agree on how to get it.

“His girlfriend,” Jonesy laughs.

“Holy shit. The girl has skills,” Sledge says and he’s not wrong. Someone trained Jasmine and trained her well. That makes me jealous, I’m not even going to bother denying it. “When do we get to meet her? I want to see this chick.”

“Never, judging by Grunt’s face,” Ford laughs.

“How’d you piss her off?” Sledge pushes. I grunt, refusing to answer again. I should have known Jonesy would answer for me.

“He tried to tell her about Daisy,” Jonesy answers.

Sledge frowns, and then he takes a drink of his whiskey, releasing a breath after he swallows it down.

“Women get particular sometimes,” he says, sagely.

“You mean pissy,” Ford laughs.

“That too. Good you found out what she’s like now, boy. You don’t need that kind of shit in your life. There’s too many women out there that’s willing to give you what you want and only use their mouth to suck your dick and not give you shit,” Sledge responds.

I scoot my seat back, the sound of it scraping against the concrete abnormally loud. I walk off, without saying a word.

I don’t want another woman.

I want Jasmine and I’m going to fucking have her. If she thinks this ended shit, she’s fooling herself. She’s not getting away from me.

Not now… Not ever.22Jasmine“You broke his nose,” Hawk laughs, sounding abnormally happy about that.

“And probably his dick,” Gabby adds, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering why I said anything.

“That’s my sis,” Hawk replies, definitely proud.

“Can we please change the subject? I pout, ignoring them both, and taking an over-filled spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

I’m curled up on Hawk’s sofa. Hawk is sitting beside me, spread out with his feet on the coffee table—boots and all. Gabby is on the floor across from us, sitting with her legs under her. I drove straight here from the dam and I cried myself to sleep.

My big plan consisted of hiding out here for a few days and trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life. It sounded good, except I forgot Gabby practically lives here and she showed up this morning. I kind of figured she would, but then this evening my frustration got worse. My dipshit brother—whom I normally adore, but not right now—decided to come here and add to my misery.

“Hey, you okay?” Hawk asks, and this time you can’t mistake the concern in his voice. My hand trembles. Mostly I want to cry and tell him that I’m not okay. I want to tell him that I feel like my world is ending. I want to confess that somehow, despite my past, I let my guard down and I’m hopelessly in love with Luke and he lied and I’m pretty sure, destroyed me.

“Sure. I’m always okay,” I fib.

“Bullshit,” Hawk murmurs and he doesn’t know the half of it, but I don’t reply.

“I love you guys, but do you think…just maybe, you could listen to me and drop the subject?”

“You liked him,” Gabby murmurs, her face sad. Maybe it’s because she knows what a broken heart feels like. Maybe she’s putting herself in my shoes and imagining Luke is Dom. Whatever it is, the sadness on her face is enough to cut open the wounds that I’m doing my best to bury in ice cream.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I mutter, slapping my bowl down on the table by the couch.

I try not to run, but I don’t think I achieved my goal. I slam the door with an echoing thud, and then slowly slide to the floor

I allow some of my tears to fall. I hate them almost as much as how much I want to hate Luke, but I still let them fall.