Lawless (King #3)(25)

With all the shit I had going on and with the need to run coursing through my very being, I was surprised that a picture of all things had me at a pause. I ran my fingers across the faces of the three boys and wondered if they knew what kind of men they would eventually become.

I found myself jealous of the easy friendship that radiated through the photo.

Socially awkward was an understatement, but after Jesse died and I took on more and more at the grove, friends were no longer an issue because I didn’t have time for them. Between my part-time job at the Stop-n-Go and trying not to fold under the pressure, school dances and first kisses were never a priority.

They were never even a consideration.

I did have one friend.

Buck. I called him Bucky. He was the only one who no matter how many times I told him I couldn’t hang out, he always made time to come to the grove to check up on me. Bring me lunch. He was the only one who amongst a sea of adults realized that I had taken on more than what any normal teenager ever could or should.

Buck was the deputy sheriff. He and Sheriff Buckingham were the only law in Jessep, maybe if I got to Bucky first then he could help me convince the sheriff of the truth? That this was all just a horrible, horrible tragic accident.

I couldn’t go to jail. Not that I thought jail or thinking of being there took any precedence over what had happened to my parents. But because I couldn’t sit there day in and day out and stew over what I had done. What I could have done differently. That my entire family was dead.

I wouldn’t survive.

The thought of survival brought me back to the present and my task at hand. Setting down the picture, I went to the kitchen where the drawers and cabinets were all bare. Growing frustrated with each passing second I made a decision. I walked over to the samurai swords and removed one from the hooks, unsheathing it slowly so I wouldn’t accidentally cut myself on the blade.

I may not be able to unlock the door.

But I can chop the f*cking knob off.

And so I did.

With a guttural roar I severed the knob from the door with the sword, revealing the silver mechanism underneath. I pushed my fingers into the small space and pinched the two ends of the small metal bar together, unlatching the bolt.

The mid-morning sun blinded me as I walked out from the cover of the garage apartment and into the light of day. After my eyes adjusted, I followed the driveway past a three story stilt home. I wasn’t sure where I was until I got to the bottom of the narrow driveway and spotted the causeway to my right and knew right away that I was still in Logan’s Beach and that if I took a left I’d eventually find my way back to the highway.

I wish I had my dad’s truck or my bike.

There was no way I’d take a chance of going back to the MC to get it. I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge what had happened to me there. Not yet anyway.

One horrible event at a time.

One tragedy to focus my grief and anger on.

Someday I would allow myself to be upset and angry at the MC, at Chop. I would curse the world for what he did to me, or TRIED to do to me, but not today. I started off down the road. Toward Jessep. Toward home. The injuries caused by Chop and his thumb made each step more excruciatingly cringeworthy.

With newly found determination, I limped forward.

Today was for my parents.

Today was for my dad.

And today I would be strong, for them. For him.

Tomorrow, tomorrow I would cry.

Not today.

Just not today.

*

Bear

We were turning back into King’s driveway when his phone rang. “Pup,” he said. There was a short pause. “You see what direction she went?”

I spotted a figure limping down the road and instantly recognized the wild pink hair.

“Never mind, we see her,” he said, ending the call.

“Where the f*ck does she think she’s going?” I muttered, leaning over the steering wheel. I brought the truck to a stop with a squeal of the brakes and considerable effort to throw the shifter on the steering wheel into park.

“I’ll take it back up to the garage while you deal with that,” King offered. I nodded and hopped down onto the road, quickly catching up to Thia, who was moving a lot faster than her limp should allow. She was wearing a plain black t-shirt.

MY t-shirt.

It was so big and bulky on her I couldn’t tell if she was wearing anything underneath until the breeze picked up the hem, revealing the same blood stained shorts she’d worn the night before.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” I pointed and grunted, matching her furious pace. It wasn’t the shirt that was bothering me, but leave it to me to point out something trivial when my blood was boiling because she didn’t stay put like I told her to.

“I’ll send it back to you,” she said bitterly, focusing her eyes on the road in front of her.

“Where the f*ck do you think you’re going?” I asked, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her toward me. “I told you to stay. Shit, I locked you in. How the f*ck did you get out?”

“I’m not some animal you can cage in! I’m going home! Don’t worry I won’t burden you anymore. I’m going to tell the sheriff what happened, which I should have done in the first place. You won’t ever have to think about me again. You’re off the hook.” She tried to wriggle from my grasp but there was no way in f*ck that was going to happen. The more she spoke, the angrier I got and the more my fingers bit into her arms.