The Lies Between Us (The Devil's Dust #4)(58)

“Phillip, you better hit that damn baseball like a DeLuca!” my father shouted from the stands. I swallowed hard and pulled the rim of my baseball cap down. My father looked huge sitting in the bleachers with the rest of the parents. He had on blue jeans and a white fitted shirt that covered his strong torso firmly, and of course he had on his leather cut, displaying that he was an Outlaw to everyone sitting in the bleachers. The president of the Sin City Outlaws motorcycle club, to be exact. My father shoved his boot onto the seat in front of him and gave a firm nod, his tanned Italian skin shining with the sweat the sun caused. I took a big breath and turned on the base to face the pitcher, determined to hit this f*cking ball into the next field. I was going to prove to my father I was worth a damn, that I wasn’t the son he was ashamed of. My brother Zeek was my father’s pride and joy, always getting into trouble and getting caught in the traps of the law. My dad wanted me to be just like my brother, but I’m going to show my dad that I can shine in a way that doesn’t involve criminal activity.

The pitcher looked behind him at his other teammates before looking back toward me, a sly smirk across his face. Tommy Ricci. My father told me plenty of times how I needed to hang out with Tommy, let him rub off on me, that I could learn a thing two from him. But Tommy’s just a punk. He’s mean to the girls, and a f*cking ass-wipe to those who call him a friend. He steals, too; I caught him stealing from our teacher’s purse the other day. I, of course, didn’t say anything. I’m starting to think my father wants me to be bad, that it would make him love me more.

Tommy threw the ball, and I swung.

“Strike one!” Shit. I hit the baseball bat on the base and gripped the wooden bat. Tommy chuckled and threw the ball again. Another strike.

“Come on, boy,” my father sounded from behind me, his tone laced with humiliation.

Tommy lowered his head, his eyes digging into my insecurities. He threw the ball, and I closed my eyes and swung again.

“Strike three! You’re outta there!”

Fuck. I just let the other team win.

“Great job, Phillip,” one of my teammates slammed into my shoulder leaving the field. I dropped the bat and slowly turned, finding a fuming father. I strode off the field, and my father rose from the bleachers. He unfolded his large frame from them and stood above me. I shrank in his shadow. He gripped the back of my shirt and dragged me to the car.

“You are a disgrace to the DeLuca name. You don’t get your sense of failure from me, that’s for sure.” He tugged on my shirt and pushed me into the car. “You don’t even look Italian, for Christ’s sake.” He lowered his head and shook it, his boot kicking the rocks at his feet. I crossed my arms and tried my hardest not to cry in front of all the other kids and parents. Being ten years old was a tough age as it was, but having my father breathing down my neck was even harder.

“Let’s go, Phillip. See about getting you into some f*cking ballet classes or something.”

Screaming snaps me out of my childhood memory, and I continue toward the kitchen. I rub my eyes, burning from lack of sleep. I couldn’t stop watching Cherry last night. She’s f*cking beautiful. There is something about being free from the lies that I had to live with so long, being let go from the pressure the club bestowed on me. I see Cherry in a whole other light. She f*cking lied about having a kid; her defiance turns me on, yet pisses me off. I love how wild she is, how broken and against the wind she can be. It keeps me on my toes. I need a girl who stays interesting, who can bust my balls. It makes me want to tame her and stand proud that she’s mine. I tug my bottom lip between my teeth. It doesn’t make me less angry about her lying, though.

Addie runs into the kitchen, slamming the door into the wall.

“Jesus!” I yell as Zane shoves me out of the way.

“Welcome to breakfast,” Tom Cat states, thrusting a paper plate of scrambled eggs into my chest. I take hold of the plate and shake my head.

Dani shifts in her seat, bouncing her newest baby Delilah on her hip.

“Damn it, Zane, I said to stop chasing her!” Dani parents.

“He’s fine, Dani. He’s just being a kid,” Bull interjects, shoving a pile of eggs into his mouth.

“Ya know, I thought we were bad-ass bikers. When did this place turn into a playpen?” Tom Cat mutters.

The door slams open and Cherry walks in. The sight of her makes me choke on an egg. She’s wearing a black ripped-up tank top, her breasts nearly popping out, and some blue jean shorts that used to be jeans, frays and strings hanging out along her freckled skin.

“You all right there?” Tom Cat questions, slapping my back. I pound on my chest and take a deep breath to clear my air pipe.

“Yeah,” I croak. Watching Cherry’s ass as she walks to the stove, I have to turn and face the wall. My dick is growing at a fast rate inside my pants, and has no signs of dissipating. Her throwing a wall between us makes her that much more tempting. She’s like the forbidden fruit of the MC garden, and I want it. I want to break every rule, give into temptation and damn the consequences just so I can have her one last time. I want her without knowing in my head she’s a job. Just her and me, no lies between us. I want to explore the feelings I have slicing into my chest like a searing knife.

“Boys, let’s get to the chapel and work out this mess, shall we?” Bull stands from the table and wipes his mouth with a napkin.