Page 91 of Nothing to Lose: Lost Trilogy: Part 1
“She will learn to be,” Devereaux declares, then stands up. I guess our heart to heart is over, so I follow suit. “But you should probably know that Arlene’s youngest, Wyatt…” he pauses and walks around the desk. “He is my son. Emily’s brother.”
My eyebrows go up in surprise, but I don’t say anything. The biggest surprise was to hear that he and Arlene used to be a thing. The two of them having a baby together just seems to be the natural course of action.
“What do you want me to do if that fucker comes around Emily again?” I ask, referring to her former boyfriend, and changing the subject while at it.
“There is no if, Mr. Puck,” Devereaux assures me. “He will show up again. I don’t want him to talk to her, not alone at least.”
I nod on my way out. I am looking forward to kicking his ass anyway. It’ll give me something to do.
Without another word, I walk outside and run dead smack into Malone.
“Hey,” I lift my chin at him in greeting. I feel like I need a stiff drink. Something to get me high and calm my ass down would not go amiss either.
“You better take good care of my girl,” he grumbles my way. “She’s always just wanted to be happy,” he continues when I don’t say anything. “Get married, have a houseful of kids. For as long as I can remember, every time I asked her about her future, that was always the answer,” he chuckles.
“Yeah?” I look around the front yard of the Stewart residence. It resembles something out of a magazine. “Sounds like she was ready to have that with just about anyone.”
I am referring to this prick she was with for two fuckin’ years, and he knows it.
“Don’t hold that against her. She tends to be naïve sometimes,” he warns. “But that doesn’t mean she’s stupid.”
“We’ll see how it all goes.” I throw him a wave as I walk away.
I get to the truck and pause for a minute. I really miss having a motorcycle, which is really ironic considering how much I hated it for the first year or so that I was part of the club.
Now though, now I can appreciate the freedom it used to give me when I was out on the open road. The wind would hit my face, and I would squint in the sun even through my sunglasses. I wonder if I will ever get that feeling back again.
I sigh and get in the truck, then fish my cell phone out of my pocket to call Sully.
“’Sup?” he answers, and I swear I hear a kid’s voice in the background.
“Where are you, fucker?”
“Out,” is all he says. “You need anything?”
“To get drunk and high,” I cackle. “That would really put me in a good mood.”
“You don’t seem to be in that bad of a mood now, brother,” Sully points out. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I let out a heavy sigh. “Just this thing with Emily… I don’t know…”
“You not into her anymore? I thought that’s why we came to Montana,” Sully interrupts me.
“No, fuck, I think I’m in love with her,” I confess.
“What’s the problem then?”
I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s not even anything she necessarily said, just a hunch of sorts. And then, what if I say something, and I’m wrong in my assumptions?
“The fact that I was in the club came up,” I tell Sully when he gets impatient over the line. “She made some comments about Wreck and Becca, about her trying to help a criminal back in Dallas. I reminded her that I was one, too. That I, fuck,” I stumble over my own words, “that I killed people.”
“You did what you had to do, brother,” Sully’s comforting voice comes over the line. I can always count on him to calm my ass down when I get like this. Stress and lack of sleep is never a good combination. “We all did,” he reminds me.
“I hate this fuckin’ life, Blake.” I don’t realize I’m calling him by his first name, something none of us do. He is just Sully. “I hate that I am always thinking what my life could’ve been if I had different parents…”
“I hear that, brother,” Sully’s voice sounds understanding.
I know he knows what I mean. He grew up in the foster system after his mom died of cancer when he was little. I’m sure he sometimes wishes he had been dealt a different hand.
