The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(26)

“What the hell, Prez?” Locks questions, looking at Bull like he’s stupid. “You ain’t thinking clearly. That boy is in love with her. He’ll say anything!” Locks yells to everyone at the table, his hand pointing at me. His tone is pissing me off, and I grit my teeth.

“She didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong, Locks. We did, by not trusting her. You better get that foot outta your ass and start showing her some damn respect right f*cking now!” Bull hollers, his voice rumbling through the room.

Locks gets up, slamming his chair against the wall. “Screw this shit,” he roars before leaving the room.

“I’ll go check on him,” Old Guy says, following him.

“I swear you got a bunch of pussies in this club. A bunch of women throwing temper tantrums,” Hawk gruffs, gaining a sigh from Bull.


Dani

I wake up grateful I have the day off; my feet hurt beyond belief. I slowly open the door to see if Shadow is asleep across the hall again but see an empty spot. In the inside I’m pouting, but in my mind I’m grateful. The less of Shadow the better until I can make my mind up about him. I make my way into the kitchen and come to a complete halt. Atop the counter sets a wooden wicker basket full of foot creams, ice packs, pain reliever and right in the midst, my iPod. I can’t help the smile, which creeps across my face at the gesture. I pick up the iPod and see a certain song paused, so I place the ear buds in my ears and hear “The Reason” by Hoobastank. I smile as I think of Shadow and me. God, how I miss him, and from this basket and this song, I think he misses me, too.

I spend most of my day sitting on the couch watching TV, using the care package Shadow left me to recuperate my feet. Not to mention, I’ve listened to the song Shadow left me on repeat nearly twenty times. Not eating much for breakfast or lunch, I decide to give the TV a rest and go make an actual meal.

I make my way to the kitchen as the door to the apartment opens and Shadow walks in. He’s carrying a pizza box in one arm and a two-liter of Pepsi tucked under the other.

“I brought dinner. Sit down,” he demands, placing the pizza box on the counter next to the Pepsi.

“That’s okay. I’ll make my own dinner,” I respond, bringing a pan down from the cabinet. It’s sweet he brought me dinner, but the last thing I need is for him to feel I depend on him.

“No, you won’t,” he replies, grabbing the pan and putting it back in its original place.

I huff at his controlling behavior. Jerk the pan back down and place it on the stovetop.

“Yes. I think I will,” I say, raising my voice.

Shadow lowers his head and growls. His eyes hood with anger as he grabs me by the hips, throwing me over his shoulder.

“Shadow, put me down!” I yell, my hands slapping at his back.

He plops me down on the couch and points at me. “Don’t get up or I’ll just carry your ass back in here. I brought you dinner so you could stay off your feet,” he states, opening the pizza box.

I groan in frustration and sit back on the couch.

He grabs a slice right out of the box and hands it to me. “Eat,” he demands.

“No plate?” I question.

Shadow looks at me as if I have lost my mind. “Plate? It’s finger food.”

I shrug and take a bite of the pizza. I never knew pizza was a finger food. My mother always made me get a plate for whatever we were eating, even if it was chips, which we had to put in a bowl.

“How are the feet?” he asks, chomping on his own slice of pizza.

I look down at them and notice they look better than they did.

“Better. Thank you,” I reply gratefully, avoiding eye contact. This is so awkward; there is so much which needs to be said but hasn’t.

“Why are you doing all this?” I wonder, finishing my slice of pizza.

“All of what?” Shadow asks, rubbing his greasy hands on his jeans.

“You want to play that game?” I stand up, peeved he won’t talk to me. I groan with frustration and walk toward the kitchen to get a cup but don’t make it past Shadow.

“Dani,” Shadow says, grabbing my forearm and stopping me. I look at him, waiting for him to explain why we have been broken and uncivilized toward one another. His face stares down at my legs before he slowly raises his gaze upwards.

He lets go of my arm and sighs, “I don’t even know where to start to make things right between us.”

My heart thuds against my chest, and my breathing quickens. I don’t know what to say to that. He just admitted he wanted things to become right between us. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to move on from the club or Shadow. As asinine as it sounds, I’m in love with the Devil and I can’t escape the hold he has on me, even if it crushes me.

“Try,” I urge, sitting back down on the couch.

Shadow sits on the coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees and sighing deeply, his back lifting as he inhales.

“The club has been my life before I ever knew you. They took me in and became my family when I had none,” he says, taking a long breath. “If the club didn’t believe you,” he pauses, “who knows what the order would have been. I couldn’t handle the thought of the club hurting you, and I couldn’t accept the thought that I might have chosen to go against my club to save you. Worst of all, who knows if I would have been handed the orders.”