Page 27 of Bullet
“Again, proving my point that you are acting like a fucking child.”
Hurt courses through me.
“Say whatever you want to say and get out,” I rasp.
He looks to the side as if he’s contemplating what to say. “You know what, fuck it.” He mutters before looking back at me. “Your mom’s accident might have been just that, an accident, but for a minute we didn’t think it was.”
I scoff. “Bullshit. It was raining. Are you seriously going to listen to the conspiracies of a drunk man?”
Claiming my mother’s death wasn’t an accident is one of my father’s favorite pastimes. He refuses to believe it was a case of bad luck during a storm.
“We know now it was a fluke of wrong place, wrong time, but that doesn’t mean the next time it won’t be an accident. Knowing your luck, you’ll be next,” he snaps.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You take drinks and drugs from people you don’t know. You give absolutely zero fucks about your life and have no survival skills. As of right now, you will be the idiot who willingly gets into the car and is killed by a serial killer, all in the name of trying to find a good time.”
“Fuck you, Jacob. You’ve gone too far,” I hiss at him.
“Clearly, I haven’t gone far enough if it hasn’t sunk into your thick skull yet,” he snaps.
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, well, I hate you too right now. I’m sick of you always playing victim. I’m sick of having to constantly keep you from putting yourself into danger. I’m sick of fucking saving you time and time again. I can’t keep doing this, Harlee. Between you and the club, I’m running on fucking fumes, and as my best friend, I think you would notice, but you don’t because your head is so far up your own ass that all you see is yourself. You don’t care about anyone else around you. You don’t care how badly you hurt those of us who are still here and that love you. I’m done. I’m so fucking done. If you want to keep being a selfish brat witha death wish, do it. I won’t stop you. You know where to find me when you’re ready to actually get help.”
Before I can say anything, he turns and stomps away.
As I listen to the front door slam, tears begin to fall.
I’ve well and truly done it now.
I’ve successfully pushed away the one person who might have actually given a damn about me.
Was he telling the truth, though? Am I really in danger? Not just because of my own actions but because of the club?
I can’t help but laugh. Talk about fucking karma.
My dad did everything he could to try and keep me away from the clubhouse. Don’t get me wrong, I always knew about the MC and would go for family days, but I was never allowed to hang out there. None of the other members had kids my age, so when I would go, I would have to hang out by myself. For a while, I stopped going at all.
Then, when I turned fifteen, I started coming around again.
Teenage girls love looking at the bad boys after all.
Then, once I saw Bullet when he was a prospect, I wanted to go every chance I got. My mom used to tease me about having a crush on him. Despite my crush, though, I knew nothing would ever happen between us. Bullet has too many morals to ever break his promise to my dad to stay away. Or at least stay away romantically.
Still, if Bullet says I’m in trouble, then I must be?
The question is, is the trouble based on my own actions or the actions of the club?
Goddamn Harlee.
Why does she have to be such a pain in the ass? Why can’t she do as she was told? Why can’t she keep her promises?
I’m fucking over it.
I wish that were the truth. Even as angry as I am, I know I won’t leave her alone. I’ll only have to be a little more sneaky about it.
A small part of me feels bad for the things I said, but at the same time, I’m not sorry. She needed to hear the truth.
