Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
All of that was probably the worst thing he could say to her—especially since it aligned with the bullshit she had to deal with at her former organization—but that was the reason why he said it.
He knew how she felt about women not being treated as an equal, so he used that as the sharp knife to cut the ties cleanly instead of continuing to hack at it like he’d been doing.
At this point, he pretty much guaranteed his birthday dinner with his mother was fucked. If possible, he’d try to make it up to Fallon later but he wasn’t sure they’d ever recover from this moment.
She was leaving sooner or later, anyway, he told himself one more fucking time.
So, it didn’t matter.
It didn’t fuckin’ matter.
Protecting and taking care of her was what mattered and this was the best way for him to do so. Whether she knew it or not.
Whether if felt wrong as fuck or not.
He just needed to stay strong and not let her expression, not let the hurt in her eyes, not let anything she could say sway him to tell her the truth.
He needed to get her away from the club. Away from Manning Grove. Away from the Shirleys and away from the mess that was about to go down.
He knew her well enough now to know she would be horrified if she discovered what the club had planned.
But that didn’t make this any easier.
Her lips were pressed together when she slid her hands up his thighs. Before he could stop her, she had her hand dug deep into his front pocket. When she pulled it free he didn’t have to see what she held.
He knew.
This was it.
What he’d been dreading.
It was finally here.
The end.
But he asked it anyway. To continue with this fucking bullshit. “What’re you doin’?”
“Get off of Agnes.” Her tone was flat. Cold.
She was done. Right then. Right there. She wasn’t even going to wait until after dinner. She wasn’t going to bother to pretend everything was okay with his mother sitting across the table from them.
“Get off my bike.” This time she said it a little louder, a little stronger, with her spine straight, stiff. Her chin held high.
This was no weak woman, she was powerful in her own right.
He’d been a dick and she wouldn’t stand for it.
Exactly what he’d hoped. But exactly what he feared.
He’d done the unthinkable to her and did not treat her as an equal. A mortal fucking sin in her eyes.
But she’d be clean and clear of the mess that was coming. Especially if shit went sideways and there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t.
She grabbed her helmet and right before she pulled it on, she said, “Have your mother take you back. I’ll drop anything you left in my room at the office when I check out.”
Jesus fuck. “Fallon.”
She pulled her brain bucket on and secured the strap before throwing a leg over the seat and settling on it. She hit the starter, then flipped up her visor. “I don’t beg and I don’t like lies. And my internal bullshit detector is going off. I’m more disturbed by that than the fact you didn’t tell me about the party. If you were honest about it, it would’ve stung but that’s all. However, the lying cut me deep.” She leaned in and whispered just loud enough to be heard over her exhaust. “Please tell your mother I’m sorry and goodbye for me. Happy birthday, Whip.”
She smacked the visor down, heeled the kickstand up and twisted the throttle.
He remained standing in the now empty parking spot, in the dark, trying not to fall to his goddamn knees while watching Fallon ride away.
You knew this was coming, idiot. If not now, then later. She wasn’t even supposed to stay as long as she did. You had more time with her than you were supposed to.
This was for the best.
This was for the best.
For fuck’s sake, this was for the best.
Eventually he could no longer see her back, see her taillights, or hear her exhaust.
He pressed his fingers to his chest, over his heart, trying to relieve the stabbing pain.
He must have nicked himself with that knife when he was making that cut.
And, fuck him, did that wound sting.
Chapter Nineteen
With one knee bent and a boot propped against the vehicle lift’s post, Whip stood amongst his brothers. He had been the first one to arrive at Dutch’s Garage and unlock the doors since he hadn’t been able to sleep.
He’d slept like shit since Wednesday night.
The first night he’d slept alone in weeks. The first night he’d slept in his own bed for weeks.
The first night he hadn’t fallen asleep wrapped around Fallon. For fucking weeks.
He glanced around the garage trying to shake those thoughts free.
His brothers now gathered around the middle bay after staggering their arrivals on purpose. Those employed at the garage had parked out front like normal. The majority of the group parked around back in the fenced junkyard area so no one driving by would think some sort of meeting was going on. The less red flags flapping in the wind, the better.