Vicious Cycle (Vicious Cycle #1)(92)



It seemed that neither Rev nor Bishop, sitting across from me, could eat either. Mama Beth cleared her throat, causing us all to glance up from staring at our plates. “Boys, you really need to eat. You’re going to need your strength today.”

It didn’t matter that her “boys” were grown men. She was still looking after us just like we were kids. And just like she said, I knew I needed my physical strength to try to get through the emotional hell that was going to be Case’s funeral.

To appease Mama Beth, I picked up a biscuit, sopped up some gravy, and then took a bite. She gave me an appreciative smile before turning her attention back to Rev. I knew he felt the burden extra hard today. After all, he was the new president. He had to somehow manage to lead the Raiders through the shitstorm of grief.

Since we hadn’t patched in another officer yet, Bishop would be keeping his role as road captain. That job became even more difficult today, as he had to coordinate the route from the funeral home to the cemetery with out-of-town charters as well as other clubs paying their respects. It was an awfully big job, but I knew he could do it.

After glancing at her watch, Mama Beth said, “You best go get the girls. They need to get ready.”

I nodded and rose from my chair. Alex and Willow’s ballet lessons had become almost therapeutic for them both, so I hadn’t been too surprised when they escaped down to the studio as soon as breakfast was over.

As I opened the basement door, classical music floated up to me. My boots pounded down the stairs, but when I got to the bottom, I paused. No matter how many times I saw Alexandra dancing, I couldn’t help feeling like I’d been kicked in the gut and in the balls. She had that much effect on me. Maybe it was the skimpy leotard she wore, or the way her body stretched into positions that made my dick pound against my zipper. Most of all, I couldn’t help feeling completely dumbstruck that this talented, courageous, and sexy-as-hell woman wanted to be my wife.

I wasn’t the only one mesmerized by Alex’s performance. In her pink leotard and pink tights, Willow stood stock-still with wide eyes as Alexandra danced on those shoes with the pointy toes. I knew in her mind she was dreaming of the day she could wear them, too. A smile tugged on my lips as I thought about the day I’d finally let her into the studio. She’d taken the basement stairs so fast I thought she was going to end up in a heap at the bottom. She had then proceeded to squeal so loud I thought the mirrors would shatter. After inspecting the barre and dancing around for a minute, she raced to my side, threw her arms around my waist, and squeezed me tight. “Thank you, Daddy,” she had said, sufficiently melting my heart.

After doing a final leap thing, Alex met my gaze in the mirror. Her cheeks warmed, and she ducked her head. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

Crossing the room to meet her, I reached out to grab her chin and tip her head to meet my eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I love watching you dance.”

She gave me a shy smile. “And I think I know the real reason why.”

While I laughed heartily, Willow’s brows furrowed. “Why?” she asked.

As Alexandra’s blush grew, I merely ruffled Willow’s hair. “Because I like to see her looking pretty.”

Willow seemed to buy my answer. “I look pretty when I dance, too. Don’t I, Daddy?” She twirled around for emphasis, causing me to smile.

“Yes, you look very, very pretty.” Jerking my chin toward the stairs, I said, “Go on and get cleaned up.”

“But I can’t get my dress on by myself,” Willow protested. Before Case’s death, she had never liked to be separated from Alexandra and me because she thought she might miss something. But now it was about so much more. She had become even clingier since she had returned from the mountains. In fact, she had slept in our bed the last two nights, which really dampened our continued reunion sex.

“Grandma Beth will help you,” I replied.

Always the softie of the two of us, Alex said, “We’ll be up in just a minute, baby.”

While that seemed to appease Willow a little, she still gave me her best pouty face before finally trudging over to the stairs.

Once the basement door closed behind her, Alex’s hand came up to cup my cheek. “Are you holding up okay?”

With a lump the size of a boulder in my throat, I could only nod. Since my mother’s murder before my eyes as a kid, I’d had insurmountable trouble with the death of those I loved. It was like I couldn’t bear to deal with the grief and pain. I just wanted to escape and ignore it.

Case had been more than my brother and club president—he had been a father figure to me. His death had shattered me. Not only did I mourn for him, but it brought back all the pain I’d tried to repress from Preacher Man’s death and my mother’s murder.

Sensing that I was hovering over an emotional cliff, Alexandra pressed herself against me. As her arms came around my neck, the comfort only she could bring washed over me. “Did you write down what you’re going to say?” she questioned softly.

I nodded. “I just hope I can say it all. You know, without punking out by crying like a f*cking pansy.”

She rubbed reassuring circles over my back. “No one is going to think less of you for shedding tears for Case. All your brothers loved him,” she reasoned.

“Babe, no offense, but that’s such a chick thing to say.”

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