Page 96 of Whiskey Throttle
Doesn't move.
He sits there like he's got every reason in the world to be pissed because he does. And yet, for one second, all I want is for him to look at me. Not with pure hate. Not wanting to murder me. But maybe with something that says we're still brothers beneath the blood-boiling betrayal. That somehow he'll forgive me, even if it takes time.
Even if it's a lie.
Even if it's already too late.
My heart, still thundering from screaming down the freeway, thrashes against my ribcage. Adrenaline spiking. Diego slows, tapping his front tire to Dom’s front tire. Casual but a greeting. Something he didn't always do. Yet I can't remember when or how it started. It seems isolating now. Another thing they share.
I feel more out of the loop than ever.
I was the bridge maker.
The one who brings the two sides together. Nothing gets between the twins, unless it's a shaved pussy with huge tits. Diego and Dom are now on the other side. I could be pushed out so easily. Friendships hanging by a thread. It's the last thing I want and need.
Diego rolls back, shoves his boot heel into his kickstand, and kills the engine. He drags his helmet off, sets it on his bars, and looks at me. I do the same, wondering if this is a set-up for both of us or if Dom agreed to meet me. To hear me out.
“Why the fuck is everyone doing a goddamn intervention?” Dom growls to the sky, vape escaping with his words.
Diego looks at me.
I look at him.
Both of us are confused.
Neither is willing to break the ice. Even if it's Diego's idea, he tends to be quieter. Not usually the first to talk, that's Em's role. But with two non-conversation starters looking out at the water, letting the tension grow, I take control.
“Dom—”
“Why the fuck did you bring him out here, Diego?” he cuts me off, blaming our friend who's acting as the substitute peacemaker. “Fuck, man. He's the reason I called you to ride.”
Diego cuts me a look. Then runs a hand through his hair as if equally stressed to be here.
“Because it's bullshit. Your bullshit. His bullshit.” His head shakes slowly, and his gaze shifts to the water again. “Everyone's bullshit. What happened to Em. What . . .”
He stops talking. Shakes his head and stares. Searching for words or answers. I don't know. But affected. Bothered in a way, I didn't see being too consumed with what he calls my bullshit. His gaze returns to us. Dom first. Then me. It's scathing in the darkening sky. Angry at us. It's surprised me. Makes me even more worried.
He clears his throat.
“What is happening to Em is what matters. Dude is struggling, fighting. And you, fucker, haven't been there.” He stabs a finger at Dom, who shifts uneasily. Drags another vape. “Like what the fuck, man?”
Dom doesn't answer. He scowls at me instead.
“I get Em rides your ass like a fucking donkey. But dammit, he's our brother. You can fight and carry on your shit another time, but you don't even show up to the hospital to see him because of this dickhead? We're a fucking family after all.”
His finger stabs me. The accusation stings, but what's more surprising is that Dom hasn't been back. I assumed he had in a carefully coordinated time when I wouldn't be there, but hearing he hasn't been there at all is fucked up.
“Why?”
My inquiry is soft, not blaming, just curious. Actually, more shocked.
“Don't you fucking act as if I'm the problem, Hollister. I'm not.”
His glare stabs me thousands of times, lingering on my black eye. But the daggers in his expression remain there when he turns to Diego.
“Yeah, so I haven't been fucking back to the place where my mother showed up with her lover in tow. Where I was stabbed in the back by two of the few people I trust. One who fucking raised me, and the other I considered my brother. So yeah, I'm fucking justified for not being there. It's not as if I haven't been talking to Massimo. At least he calls me when he has questions about Em’s neuro shit, what the doctors say, and wants my opinion.”
He places the blame on everyone else. Granted, I own a considerable part of it, but his words dig a path deeper for the guilt in my brain. But fuck not seeing Em at all. Only waiting for Massi to call him is messed up.
