Page 74 of Torch
“I can see this is hurting you too, Grace. Whatever it is, you can talk to me, or talk to Torch. We’re all here for you.”
“I wish… I wish I could. I love Torch, and I love being with him. I love the club, and even the clubhouse, with the noise, and the constant people everywhere. It was feeling like home.”
“Yet you feel the need to deprive yourself of that, Grace. I wish you’d trust me with your reasoning, so that you’re not shouldering this heavy burden alone. Consider this a session in my office. You know whatever you say is confidential.”
I stared at my coffee, fighting against the urge to just blurt it out.
“What if what I tell you changes how you feel about me as a person? What if I tell you and you judge me for it, or hate me? What if it’s something you can’t keep a secret, because of what it is?”
Lissa frowned then, gripping my hand tighter.
“You’re scaring me, Grace. What’s going on? Did someone hurt you? Did Torch hurt you? The only thing I’d ever tell is if you’re in danger, or someone else is. Your secrets are your business.”
“But it’s all my fault, and you’ll hate me too!”
Torch
Igotsofuckingdrunk last night, and the last thing I remembered was going to bed alone. I didn’t even successfully make it into the bed either, because I woke up on the floor beside it, partially wrapped in the covers, and nursing a hangover like you wouldn’t fucking believe.
Yesterday I lost my best friend and my girlfriend. The love of my fucking life. So much grief, and so much shit going on in my head, that alcohol was the only way I could shut it all up for a while, and get some peace.
I nearly took Ice’s old advice, and put enough powder up my nose to shut everything up for a while. I used to use now and then, and it definitely affected my thoughts and actions, but I didn’t even want that right now. I wanted to fucking understand how it had all happened. How I sat beside a fucking traitor day in and day out, and never realised. How I travelled with that fucker, and slept in the same room when we were out and about. How I fucking turned to him more and more, as Ryder and Has-Been got busier with their women.
He became my closest friend, a brother in arms. All this fucking time though, he was hating on me and the club, destroying it piece by piece, killing, assaulting, and I didn’t fucking realise. I’m that fucking oblivious that I just missed every sign.
And that’s why I stopped trying to reach Grace, because if she’d made her decision to stay away, and who could fucking blame her after all this shit, I shouldn’t keep hounding her. That was my decision last night. This morning, though? This morning, I wanted to hunt her down and fucking tie her to a bed, until she explained what the fuck she was doing running out on me.Also, I’m gonna puke, so I’ll do that first.
After I’d showered, and freshened up, and looked more presentable, I headed down to the bar for some proper coffee, because I couldn’t be bothered to fire up my old machine. Tommy was behind the bar, just like old times, even though one arm was still in a sling, and his face was covered in bruises, and one eye badly swollen.
“Jesus, man, you’re back to work already?”
He grinned at me. “The good coffee doesn’t make itself, man. It needs my magic touch. You want breakfast? I’ve got bacon, eggs, and some mushrooms I can whip up?”
There was no way I was letting this poor injured fucking guy cook for me, so I shook my head, even though that sounded pretty fucking awesome.
“How are you doing, man?” Tommy asked as he awkwardly moved my coffee from the machine to in front of me. He leaned his hip against the bar and sighed heavily.
“Doing this shit with one arm is a pain in the ass.”
“I bet. Uh… I’m doing pretty much how everyone’s doing. How about you? That was a fucking dick move of his, keeping you down there like that.” I didn’t need to elaborate, because we both knew I was talking about those fucking dank tunnels.
Reacher had said something about putting locked doors and full security on them, and I was in full agreement. An easy way out was also an easy way in, and security would be a fucking joke if we didn’t. Hell, look how it had worked out for us so far.
“Yeah, I was pissed at him, but a few things he said down there got me thinking. I mean, he was trying to avenge his dad, and at least that came from a good place, right?”
“A good place? Is that where raping and assaulting women came from too?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying I don’t think Micro was a monster as such. I think he was a young man hurting, and trying to fix something he perceived as wrong. I mean, it wasn’t and isn’t wrong, and he was a dick for the things he did, but I think it all started as a way to deal with the loss of his dad.”
Is this just how we’re all fucking processing what he did? We’re all starting to make justifications and allowances for a man who terrorised our club, brutalised members, and their old ladies, and nearly fucking destroyed us. When were we going to start holding him accountable, and being glad he was dead?
“I’m glad you can feel that close to forgiving him, Tommy, but I can still feel the fucking knife in my back,” I said finally, taking a gulp of my coffee, wishing I’d stayed in my room, and hadn’t been so lazy.
“I’m not saying that, man,” Tommy said earnestly, resting his one good arm against the counter, and sighing heavily.
“I’m just saying that it didn’t come out of nowhere, and I can respect being willing to die for your family.”
“You nearly did, and so did I. So did the Pres’s old lady. Jock did die. So did Chrissy. I get trying to be the bigger man, but it’s too fucking soon for me to hear it, okay? Right now I’m still processing the fact that he’s dead.”
