Page 44 of Reaper's Claim

“What’s wrong, Drake?”

He lowered himself into the armchair across from me. “After last night, I didn’t think we would see each other for a while and…” he gestured his glass towards me. “You just turn up like nothing happened.”

“What do you want me to say?” I pulled my legs off the chair and twisted to face him full on. “Come on, Drake. I was drunk, you were drunk. Two plus two equals us fighting.”

Drake dropped his head to the side, studying me. “How many times do I have to push you away till you see it?”

To see that we were the worst possible match ever? I already knew that. I had already seen that. But here I sat on his couch, reading a romance novel, acting like he hadn’t cheated on me the night before.

“My dad and his sidekick rocked up this morning. I had to leave the house, and once they are gone, I will leave. Promise.” I snatched the novel up from the couch and got up. “Don’t worry, Drake, I haven’t forgotten what happened.” How could I? Even with a fuzzy memory, I still classed it as a fight we wouldn’t be coming back from.

“We’re still friends, Abby.” He got up, grabbing my wrist just before I was about to walk away. “Nothing can change that, so you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

Friends. We were never friends to begin with.

“Sure.” I gave him a tight smile. “I guess the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing never worked out. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that we never really became boyfriend and girlfriend.” We had skipped every step and went straight to the fighting and the sex. “I’m going to go have a nap; didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“No, you didn’t.” He gave me a half smile. “You know, Abby, I think we would work together better as friends. No messy stuff to cause our fights, yeah?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Sure, Drake.”

I didn’t really feel anything about us openly admitting we weren’t going back to that fighting, messed-up couple. A part of me, a large part, just didn’t care anymore. I suppose I really didn’t care about anything.

“Oh, and Abby?”

“Yep?” I spun on my heel, now at the bottom of the stairs.

“Just so you know. Hard and mean doesn’t really suit you.”

“You haven’t known a different side to me,” I pointed out.

“Please. I still remember the girl who wouldn’t let me leave the house without eating first.”

“Maybe I was just worried you would end up skinny.” I shot him a wink and started to walk up the stairs.

Maybe I had gotten hard. Maybe I had lost my ‘good’ side.

I sighed and closed the door of Drake’s guest room behind me. Perhaps I needed to snap my life back into focus, but I just didn’t see how I could do that, not when Dad was in town with the bloody Reaper.

I dropped the book on the floor and pushed down my jeans, climbing into bed. Maybe I just needed a good few hours’ sleep.

Reaper

“Don’t like what I’m hearing, brother.” Roach put his glass down on the table, sitting directly across from me. He had his judgment eyes on and a cold expression to match. “You either start explaining or hand the vest over.”

He wanted answers? Well, I didn’t feel like giving any. I stared down blankly at the can of beer.All because of fucking Abby Harrison. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be answering to him. I should have never given up my President patch.

“Shit had to be sorted. I sorted it.” I glanced at him. “Family is family, Roach; can’t turn my back on them.”

“The club is family.”

“The club is the club.” I swallowed the rest of my can and crushed it in my hand and tossed it in the side bin. “He’s all the family I have, and I’m not turning my back on him.”

“I’m not asking you to! I’m just making it clear that you stepped over a line and their shit is their shit, and you got no right getting involved in their shit when you’re wearing that vest.” He gestured to my club vest. “What youdoaffects the club. What youbelieveaffects the club, and getting involved with that brother of yours affects the club.”

I didn’t have the best temper control, and I felt what little control I had slipping away with every word he said. There is a difference between a club brother and a blood brother. I’d never really seen that until now, but I guess no one ever dared to tell me otherwise.

“Not gonna apologize for what I did, Roach.” My eyes were sharp as I looked at him. “I’d do it again; ain’t gonna pretend like I wouldn’t.”

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