Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(55)
His nostrils flaring wildly, his jaw locked up tight, Cage looked every inch our father, the last person I wanted to be reminded of at the moment.
“I’ll figure it out,” he seethed. “Whoever it is, I'll figure it out.”
No, he wouldn’t. There was nothing left to figure out. Ripper was long gone.
“Are you seriously gonna keep yelling at me in front of an abortion clinic?” I asked. “Could we at least get in the truck?”
Cage let his head fall back as he sighed angrily. When he looked back at me, his expression had considerably softened.
“Coulda f*ckin’ told me, little sister,” he said quietly. “Woulda never let you go through all this shit by yourself.”
Grabbing my hand, he threaded his large fingers through mine and squeezed. “This is what big brothers are f*ckin’ here for,” he said, pulling me toward his truck. “To pick their little sisters up when they fall the f*ck down.”
I said nothing while he opened the passenger door, aiding me as I climbed inside.
“You need anything?” he asked.
I pulled my prescriptions out of my purse and handed them to him. “Just these,” I whispered.
Nodding, he shoved the papers in his pocket and closed the door.
I watched him walk around the front of the truck, big and broad, strong and tall, ready to take on the world if he had to.
I could tell him. I could trust someone with what had happened. I could finally unburden myself and my guilty conscience.
I just couldn’t trust him not to tell our father. Maybe he’d keep quiet about my relationship with Ripper, but what I’d done to Nikki…
He’d tell.
I wasn’t sure what my father’s reaction would be, but he would undoubtedly blame Ripper for the entire thing when it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I’d wrestled the gun away from her, I’d pulled the trigger, and I’d killed her.
As Cage climbed into the truck, I sank back into the seat and closed my eyes. I couldn’t tell a soul. I’d take the secret to my grave, even if it meant I’d have to bear the burden alone. Even if it meant my slow but certain, utter ruin
? ? ?
Gritting his teeth, Ripper lifted the tire and hefted it up onto the rim of the vehicle when his cell phone started vibrating. Turning around, he pulled his phone out of his coveralls pocket and saw it was Deuce calling him.
Jesus Christ.
Why wouldn’t they stop?
Why couldn’t they just leave him the f*ck alone?
His phone beeped, signaling a voice mail. Blowing out a heavy breath, Ripper stalked through the garage and headed outside.
“Jacobs!” Phil Marinetti, the auto body shop’s owner bellowed. “Where the f*ck you goin’?”
“Break!” he shouted and kicked open the door.
Lighting a cigarette, he leaned against the wall, pulled out his phone, and listened to his pileup of messages.
“Ripper, it’s Deuce. Got a bead on Jimmy. Word is he’s out in Cali. So, brother, the job’s there if ya want it. Gimme a call.”
And…
“Yo, Ripper, it’s Cox, just wanted to know where the f*ck you’re at, brother.”
And…
“Hey, *. Hawk here. Just checkin’ the f*ck in, makin’ sure you’re still breathin’.”
And before he knew what was happening, his phone started playing his saved messages. All from Danny.
“Please, please call me back. I can’t breathe, Ripper, I can’t think straight and I can’t eat or sleep and everything is all screwed up. I miss you so much…why did you leave?”
He quickly hit end and shoved his phone back in his pocket. Finished with his cigarette, he stalked back inside the shop and back to the old Chevy he was working on.
Ripper had been home in Cali for several months now, cleaning out his parents’ old house, selling their shit, working at Marinetti’s Garage. He’d put away his cut, shaved his head, put his bike in the garage, and after fixing it up, he’d been driving around his old man’s pickup.
He’d stopped f*cking blondes that reminded him of Danny.
He was trying to move the f*ck on.
But none of those motherf*ckers back in Montana were letting him.
And Danny…
Jesus Christ.
She was killing him. The voice mails were getting worse. She was getting worse.
Twice now, after listening to her messages, hearing the raw pain in her voice, hearing her tears, the violent switch of emotions, he’d almost gone back. Almost.
But he couldn’t.
Eventually, she’d get over him. She had to. That was the whole f*cking point of this bullshit.
Him leaving so she’d move past what had happened with Nikki, pull herself together and meet a nice guy, one who didn’t have a past worthy of a horror movie, one who could give her everything she deserved. A guy who would look good next to her, look like he f*cking deserved a woman as beautiful as she was, inside and out.
A shudder rippled through him.
Fuck him, but he didn’t want anybody else giving her jack shit.
He really had to get a new phone number.
It would get easier, he promised himself. Eventually, after enough time had passed, she’d let it go. Then he wouldn’t be in a constant state of anxiety, ready to haul ass back to Montana every time she called him. Hopefully.