Page 43 of Rox

“I’m in this club, Rox.” His voice is small, and the feeling of defeat radiates off him.

“Max,” I sigh. I know what I’m about to say is going to piss him off even more, but I can’t reveal what happened to Manda or the others. There’s so much history inside the Nameless Order. My mother and I are only a tiny piece of the puzzle. “If they wanted you to know, they would have told you.” The hurt in his eyes matches his voice from earlier.

Before I can say anything more, he places his hand over the one I have on his face. He presses his face into my palm, holding it there. I want to bring him closer to kiss away the hurt and the sting of this possible betrayal. I open my mouth to say morewhen he lightly pushes me back, breaking the connection we’ve created.

My heart cracks more, and my resolve is shaken—begging me to tell him more when he finally speaks again.

Twenty One

Mimic

“I’m in love with you,” I don’t even recognize my voice as I tell her the truth I’ve held within me for years now. “I love you so much that I ripped out my soul and laid it at your feet, but I can’t even get the same courtesy.”

“Our lives and our stories are not the same, Max. Mine is intertwined with other people—the mother chapter and here. It’s complicated.” Rox’s voice finds strength when I walk away.

I feel weak. I feel as if I won’t be able to get over this. A moment ago, I relished in her touch. The strength I felt as her hand held my face, it was as if a power surge coursed through me via her, but now, it’s gone. There’s nothing except for the sadness that consumes me. Could I rid myself of this pain if I accept I’m being kept in the dark? I’m sure it’s for a good reason, or they all believe it is, but it revolves around the woman whom I am rebuilding my life with. She’s the center of everything.

But I can’t get my mind to listen to my heart or my heart to listen to my mind. Nothing of what she said comes off as a valid reason. Stories overlap. Nothing is one-sided. And if it’ssomething involving this club, I have the right to know. I’m not just a member who is doing this for fun. I’m an officer of this club. If something happened in the mother chapter of the club, it’s not something we shouldn’t know about. How can I protect her if whatever it was comes back if I don’t know what it is?

“It can’t be that complicated. Do you want to know what complicated is? My literal life. The one I was born into, the ones I stole. I told you I killed people. I confessed to murder. My history is beyond fucked up. I’m so many stolen identities deep that I almost can’t remember who I really am.That’scomplicated. You keeping me in the dark about your life, that’s not complicated. That’s selfish.” There’s a rasp of hurt behind my words.

She is the only person I show this level of honesty to.

My heart tells me she’s the person I love and care for, but my mind is trying to get me to see facts showing she’s lying to me. Our past is filled with deception, and when the truth comes out, we are forced to move on again. I don’t want to have to leave here, a place that finally feels like home and not a stop on my journey.

I can’t tell her anything else. I don’t want hateful words from a place of hurt to hang between us. I break the distance between us. My large gait closes the distance in just one step. I cradle her face in my hands. I look her in the eyes before I kiss her deeply. Putting everything I am in the brutal press of my mouth to hers. Her hands come up and hold my elbows, trying to press her body to mine, and that’s when I step back. When I pull away from her, the hurt I see on her face brings up a small amount of rage within me.

She can solve this by talking to me—telling me the truth, bearing her soul to match mine. “I love you,” I grit out because, at the end of the day, I really do, “but I need to leave.”

I hear her call out as I make my way out the door. I slam it so hard that I hear the windows rattle. I look back at the house as I get on my bike. I send a quick message to Kraken letting him know I’m leaving, so he will need to keep watch. Then, I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I text her mom.

Me: Rox might need a shoulder to cry on tonight.

Queen Bee: What do you mean?

Queen Bee: What did you do?

Queen Bee: Mimic!

Queen Bee: Answer me!

Reaching behind me, I put my phone in the saddle bag as it is flooded with, I assume, texts and calls from Meg. Do I think she will tell Prez about this before talking to Rox? Maybe, but probably not. Meg has been on my side with most of the shit going on, but right now, I don’t know what to think anymore.

I feel the rumble of power beneath me as I start the bike and take off. I let instinct lead me to somewhere I can clear my head. I think about the beach, but it’s been tainted with memories of Rox and our time together. Everything screams of our time together. Everywhere but one.

Pulling up to the clubhouse, I see a few of the brothers’ bikes, which gives me pause before going in. I need to forget for a bit. More than anything, I need to numb the pain my internal battle about Rox is causing me. And I don’t want to remember there are secrets and a hidden past about the Nameless Order. Why was another chapter needed so far from the mother chapter?

I need to shut my brain off and drink myself stupid. I need to do this away from Rox for fear I would say something I couldn’t come back from.She knows this is your process. But knowing and accepting are two very different things.

I need to be here. I want to be with her, but a part of protecting her is stepping away when I need to protect her from me. Miscommunication is something I’ve always avoided, butwith her, it’s harder because I don’t want to break her heart with my words or my actions, but with my mind a gigantic fucking mess at the moment, I know that no matter what I do, I’m causing her pain. It’s killing me.

But I know, regardless if I can never understand the reason why she won’t tell me things, I will always make sure she’s safe, protected, and loved because, goddamn, I love that girl.

I walk into the club, not even looking around at anyone. I sit on a stool, catching Burrito’s attention. He fills up a shot glass of Johnny Walker Red but when he turns to put the bottle back, I shoot the shot back slamming down the glass.

“Leave the bottle.” I don’t even recognize my voice at this point. I don’t wait to see if he stays or leaves. I just start pouring shot after shot until I begin to feel nothing but the warm liquid pooling in my belly.

“I’m guessing the conversation didn’t go as well as you thought,” Burrito says, startling me a little. I can’t help the drunken giggle that bubbles from me.

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