Losing Track (Living Heartwood #2)(38)

“Good girl,” he says. Then he leaves me with my muddled thoughts.

For Christ’s sake…

I slap a hand over my mouth, feeling the rage bubbling up inside me about to spew everywhere. I don’t know what angers me more: the fact that my dad’s best friend is more concerned about his prospect getting the boot over how I’m handling the death of my best friend, or that the MC have clearly put Jesse’s future in my hands.

It’s f*cking simple; if I become Jesse’s ol’ lady, then he’s innocent of Dar’s death. My acceptance will clear him in their eyes, and he’ll become a full-patch member. Shit f*ck. I was going to back him anyway…at least, I think. But I don’t like being told I have to do something. Least of all, forced into some twisted relationship for the benefit of the MC.

I know Tank means well. Hell, he’s like a second father to me. But my dad never would’ve put on the pressure like this. My dad would never have wanted me to settle with one of the MC, anyway. He made that clear a long time ago, and it’s a rule I’ve always stuck to. One of the only ones I’ve ever followed.

It’s a good one for a reason, too. And I don’t plan on breaking it for anyone, not even my dad’s best friend.

This sucks. Getting older and growing up and seeing people in a whole new light f*cking sucks.

People really are selfish *s.

I suck up my butthurt feelings and toss my head back, determined not to let them see me crumble. I’ll mourn Dar in private. I’ll do what I have to until I get my ride and can get the hell out of here. No one dictates my choices.

The scary thing; I didn’t know how much I depended on Dar for added backbone until this moment. I was stronger when I was with her, when I was looking out for her. I’m horrible at taking care of just me.





Melody

To the scentless air, free of blame



FIRST CHECK-IN WITH MY PO after being released from rehab and I’m already about to bolt. This Jacquie chick comes off more like a therapist than a parole officer, and I got enough of the head shrinking at Stoney.

One thing I will admit that I didn’t think was possible: I miss Nurse Bridge. Out of everyone there, she was real, she had grit. She didn’t sugarcoat anything and she always said what was on her mind. I miss her candid little quips. Her overbearing, big mama fortitude. And I just miss feeling like I wasn’t a complete loser for being me around her.

My PO looks too young, too innocent, and too sweet to be in charge of my freedom. But maybe this is a good thing. She won’t come down too hard on me when I slip. Because I won’t lie to myself and claim I’m going to stay off the white—that’s one thing I don’t do; lie to myself. I know there will be many temptations over the next months, and I’d be so full of it to think I’m not going to buckle once.

“Okay, Miss Lachlan, let’s continue,” she says, scanning over the file on her desk instead of looking at me. “Have you found a residence to reside at during your probation period?”

Yes…and no. Because Jesse has to stay in St. Augustine throughout the duration of his pretrial court stuff, the MC sprung for a small apartment for him. Tank footing most of the rent, I’m sure. Jesse made the offer the other night to let me stay with him until I could afford my own place.

This did not seem like a good idea. Especially since Jesse is far from clean. I might be honest about my dependence now—not addiction; there’s a difference—but I don’t need to topple on unnecessary temptation.

Besides, after the way Tank not-so-subtly hinted to me and Jesse becoming an MC item, I don’t want to encourage Jesse. I’m not sure if it’s Tank’s idea or his, or the whole of the MC pushing the idea—but it’s better not to encourage any of them. Jesse will do whatever the MC tells him to. If his mentor says he needs an ol’ lady to settle him, to keep him out of trouble, Jesse will follow instructions. I know he’d do anything at this point to earn his full patch.

I’m not MC property, though. And both Tank and Jesse know this. But that doesn’t mean they won’t try. I thought I’d made my intentions clear about that a long time ago, but maybe they’re just trying to look out for me. Thinking I need an ol’ man now that Dar is gone.

I’ve been tussling with this since the other night. I just don’t know what to believe. Or what I want to believe. That’s two very different things, there.

“Melody?”

Jacquie’s soft but firm voice draws me out of my musings. I sit forward. “Sorry. Yes, I have a residence.”

She poises her pen over the page. “And where is that?”

I rub the back of my neck, feeling stilted. “Someone from Stoney Creek hooked me up with a cheap apartment near here. Month-to-month lease. For now.” That would be big mama Nurse Bridge. On the day of my release, she told me that her daughter was going off to graduate school and vacating a cute little apartment. The timing worked out perfectly, and she drove me there that afternoon to sign the lease with the landlord and get moved in. My whole two boxes and all.

“That’s great. And have you been able to schedule your group meetings yet?”

Shit. “Uh, yeah.” I nod, even though no, I haven’t done that yet. But I’m sure Nurse Bridge can help me there, too. “Once a week, right?”