Page 86 of All Your Firsts

“Who?”

“Razor and Tiny. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. When I saw how broken up you were when Razor died, I didn’t want to make anything worse. But shit’s coming out, and I didn’t want you to find out any other way.”

My mind is reeling. I spring up from my seat while my heart pounds in my chest. I need to get out of here and get some air.

“Whoa. Where are you going?” Julian asks.

“Bed.”

“You okay?” Marcus asks as he grabs my shoulder and squeezes.

“Never been better,” I manage to say, my voice quivering as I struggle to stay upright.

I walk back to my room in a daze, and the worst part isn’t Rosie’s father or idiot brother. It’s knowing Razor is the one who killed my parents.

From the moment I arrived to live at the club, he made me feel like I belonged, treating me as if I were his own. He taught me how to ride, fight, shoot, and kill. It’s a twisted irony that he assumed the role of my father when he’s the very person responsible for the death of my parents. Did he feel the weight of the guilt for turning me into an orphan? Is that why he spent so much time with me?

I press my palms against the rough edges of the doorframe, feeling the coolness seep into my hands as I rest my forehead against the solid oak door.

No matter what I know now, it can’t alter what has already happened. I can only hope that the future holds more compassion for me and that I can still discover fragments of happiness along the way.

I quietly turn the door handle and peer in to see Rosie lying on the far side of my bed. I quickly shed my clothes and slip in behind her. Unable to resist, I reach out and pull her against me. Relief and a sense of security settles in, which is weird after everything I’ve just learned.

I caress her cheek, needing to feel the softness under my fingers, but stop when I feel wetness instead.

Alarm bells ring in my head.

“Why are you crying, baby? Are you hurting?”

“I’m fine,” she says as she rubs the sheet across her face.

“The fuck you are. Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t,” she says as she sniffles.

“Look at me, Rosie.” Her emerald-green eyes swim with more tears, and I wipe them away with the pad of my thumb. “Everything will be okay. You’re safe.”

“I never told you about the bar. This is all my fault.”

“What about the bar?”

“That night, with that guy. He mentioned my father. I never told you.”

I think about that night. How she was white as a ghost while that fucker’s arm was around her. I thought it was because she was uncomfortable. I should have pressed her on it, but I wasn’t in my right mind that night.

Jealousy was at the top of my list, and I failed her because of it.

“That other guy came to the house, and I should’ve heeded the warning and kept better tabs on you,” I say with a sigh. “It seems we’re both keeping things from each other.”

“Never again. I’m so sorry,” she says as she cries harder, and it guts me for so many reasons.

I still have an enormous piece of the puzzle I’m keeping hidden from her, but I know she can’t handle my identity right now.

“Please, don’t cry.”

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