Shades (Evil Dead MC 3)

Cole released him with a violent shove. “That prospect cut mean anything to you?”

Shades straightened. “You know it does.”

“You were warned to stay away from her!”

Shades nodded, offering no excuse.

“You want that patch, you cut her loose. You hear me? You. Cut. Her. Loose.”

“It’s not what you think. She means something to me.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Prospect. I’m still your goddamned sponsor. I can rip that fucking prospect patch off your back. At my fucking discretion.”

“Cole, let

me explain, for Christ sake.”

“Fuck your bullshit explanations. Only two ways this is gonna go. You want that center patch, you cut her loose. You don’t, you’ll never fucking get my vote. You hear me?”

Shades spit a mouthful of blood on the ground and growled, “I hear you.”

Present day—

Shades lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he could go back now, would he have made a different decision that night. Would he have had the guts to rip his cut off and toss it at his sponsor’s feet? Would she have been his choice?

Cole had continued the beating that night, making sure his point was made. Shades hadn’t even fought back, knowing he deserved it for breaking the man’s trust. For lying to him. Hell, when Cole was done, Shades knew he couldn’t go home. There was no way in hell he’d be able to hide his battered face from Skylar. So he’d texted her that he had business taking him out of town and to get her own ride home. He’d avoided her all that week, partially to give his face time to heal and partially to put off doing what he knew he had to do. Break up with her. And break her fucking heart in the process.

An empty ache cut through him, and he swore to God, he’d never felt so alone. And the shit of it was, she was so close again, after all these years. So close and yet he knew, she was farther away than ever. In the arms of a goddamned brother.

Just within his grasp, and never to be in his grasp again.

Goddamn, it was like a fist squeezing his heart, squeezing the life out of him.

And he couldn’t do shit about it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Skylar wandered out onto the porch. The last few pink slashes of sunset were fading from the sky. She found Crash sitting on the porch steps. He turned and glanced over his shoulder at her a moment before turning his quiet gaze back to the horizon. He looked so despondent and lonely sitting there.

It had been several days since the party at the clubhouse, and she could sense a restlessness about him, like he was ready to move on. Skylar moved to sit on the step above him, and her arms encircled his neck from behind, her face close to his. “You okay?”

He responded softly, “Sure. Why?”

“You just seem sad.”

“Do I?”

“Are you missing California?”

He shrugged, his eyes still on the horizon. Fireflies began to make their appearance and crickets were the only sound in the quiet peacefulness. “I thought staying here for a while would help. I just felt I needed to be close to them somehow. Like I couldn’t just stick them in the ground and leave. But, there’s just so many memories here. Everywhere I go, you know?”

She nodded, resting her chin on his shoulder. “I know. There are a million memories of Letty and I everywhere, too.”

He reached up and ran his palm over one of her forearms that were looped around his neck. “You two were inseparable.”

She smiled. “I suppose.” They were quiet for a few minutes, each staring out over the pasture and hills in the distance. Remembering. Finally she asked what she’d been wondering, what she’d had a feeling about. “Are you thinking of going back?”

He was quiet a moment and then answered softly with a squeeze to her forearm. “Yeah.”