Truly, Madly, Whiskey(25)
“Wait. Jesus. First, your mother?”
“I know. Please, let’s not talk about her.”
“Okay, but, sugar, nothing happened to the guy? Didn’t you go to the police?” His voice rose with anger, but she knew it wasn’t aimed at her.
“No. I didn’t go to the police. I didn’t even know his real name. His friends called him Cas, but I heard one of them say it was for Casanova. All I wanted was to move on and to never, ever think about it again, which was ridiculous. I knew it even then, but at least I’ve done a damn good job of starting over.”
Anger burned in her chest with the memories of how hard starting over had been. She’d spent weeks vacillating between bawling, screaming, and making it through each day like an automaton. She’d hated herself for being too weak to stick around and finish out her studies, but she’d been in no shape for classes. The fear she’d felt walking into David’s office for the first time had been paralyzing. But the weight that had lifted from her when she’d finally told him the truth about the attack, her parents, and Jed’s stealing had been equally healing.
“What about Jed?” he asked gruffly. “Did he do something to the guy?”
She felt his muscles tensing up. “He doesn’t know.”
“So this *, this motherf*cker,” he said through gritted teeth, “is still out there? He’s never been punished for what he did?”
“Bear, listen to me, please. You have to let that anger go. You can’t seek revenge. I want to have a normal life. I need to have a normal life. And I can’t do that if I get all caught up in him again.”
“Caught up in him?” he growled. “I’m going to make sure that you never feel unsafe again. I’m going to find that f*cker and tear him apart.”
She pushed back, anxiety climbing her spine. “No. I’m not one of the kids you can help by intimidating a bully. I’m a grown woman, and I’ve moved past that time of my life. I’ve got a new life—a good life—”
Bear shifted rage-filled eyes away.
“Look at me.” She grabbed his face, pulling it back toward hers, and forced the calmest voice she could, which wasn’t very calm at all. “I know you want revenge, or justice, but this is not about that. There is no revenge for what he did. Between losing my dad, my mom’s alcoholism, and what happened, I don’t have a pretty past. I’ve had no one to turn to since I was nine, and there was so much shit on my plate, I felt myself crumbling under the weight of it all. I made a choice. Rather than crash and burn, I left and I started over. I had to. I know there are people who will never understand my not going to the police. But they aren’t me. I had no one I trusted enough to turn to. Not my parent, not a best friend, not a counselor. And by the time I met David and we’d worked through enough of the issues that I could have considered going to the police, it was too late. There were no witnesses, and honestly, I wanted to move on. I made the decision that was right for me, and I stand behind it. And now that’s all in the past and none of it can be fixed with revenge. There’s only what happened and how I’ve moved past it. And”—she softened her tone—“how I want to have a relationship with you. Please don’t let your anger about what happened come between us, because it will.”
“Fuck.” He closed his eyes. Then he took her face in his hands, restrained rage present in the hard press of his fingers. “You’re asking me to go against everything I believe. You’re asking me to let a rapist walk free.”
“Yes, I am. It was more than four years ago, Bear. There is no evidence. You said you would be what I needed. This is what I need.”
BEAR ROLLED INTO the parking lot of Whiskey Bro’s around midnight, surprised to see his father’s car parked among the typical lineup of motorcycles and trucks. His father came by the bar often, but he didn’t usually stick around that late. Bear checked his phone to see if he had missed a call from Bullet asking him to take a shift. He was scheduled to bartend Wednesday night, but sometimes they called him on the spur of the moment if the bar got busy. He’d been so blown away by what Crystal had told him, it wouldn’t have surprised him if he had missed a text. Luckily, there were no missed messages from his brother.
To a passerby, the wooden building with rough, marred pillars, frequented by bikers and avoided by most others, didn’t look like much more than a shady dive. The Dark Knights clubhouse, located behind the bar, was equally unimpressive. But to Bear, who’d practically been raised in the bar, walking into Whiskey’s was like coming home, and with the way his insides were roiling and his mind was waging a full-on war, he needed as much stability as he could get.
He stepped into the bar, inhaling the scents of leather and alcohol, comfort and stability. There were only a handful of customers sitting at tables and around the bar, nodding their greeting as Bear walked past. His father was sitting at a table with two guys from the club, and Bear made a beeline behind the bar, where Bullet was engrossed in something on his phone.
“What’s up?” Bullet didn’t look up from his phone. His thick dark brows were drawn down in concentration. At six five, he was the most intimidating of Bear’s siblings. Bullet had a warrior inside him. The deadly kind that could kill a man with a single punch. Bear had seen his eldest brother get the most formidable of challengers to back down with nothing more than the lethal stare he’d mastered during his years in the Special Forces. But Bear had also seen him bring women to their knees when those ice-cold, coal-black eyes smoldered with seduction.