Own the Wind (Chaos, #1)(59)

The brothers were about as pleased as Dad upon the news spreading that there was a Shy and me, and when those men got ticked off about something, they didn’t go gab with their psychologists about it. All hell broke loose.

So by the time I got Pete on the phone, I was over it.

Now I was totally over it.

Yes, okay, Shy was a brother, I was the president’s daughter, this had ripple effects on the family.

But, to coin Shy’s phrase, I was twenty-three years old, and I really did not have to report to my Dad, stepmom, and extended motorcycle family who I was f*cking.

Seriously!

So I was raring to go when, still wearing my scrubs, I stomped up the steps to the office and stormed right in.

Fortunately, I saw my little brothers Rider and Cutter weren’t there, like they often were, hanging with their mom while she worked.

This was the only good thing.

The bad thing was Tyra turning to the door with a smile then seeing it was me. Her face went blank, her mouth set, and she lifted a hand and announced, “Tabby, I was hoping you were getting the message when I didn’t pick up your calls. I need a few more days to process what you’ve done before I talk to you.”

She could not be serious.

She was talking to me like I was sixteen.

Uh-uh.

No way.

I stared at her in her cute little top and I knew she had a slim, smart but tight skirt and high heels on behind the desk that hid her. Even after years as the office manager of Ride, a garage run by bikers, she didn’t give up her professional sex-kitten look. I knew Dad (and all the other guys) totally dug it. I also knew, staring at her right then, that was a look I had once adopted. Another phase, the phase I was in when I was with Jason. A phase that was Tyra, not me.

I walked fully in, closing the door behind me, stopped a couple feet from her desk, and repeated, “You need a few more days to process what I’ve done?”

Her eyes narrowed on me and I knew she was pissed but I also knew I was more pissed.

“You heard me,” she replied.

“Oh yeah, I did. I just don’t understand you. What, exactly, have I done?”

Her head jerked with anger before her eyes got big and she stated, “You lied to your dad and me.”

“When did I do that?” I asked. I saw her nose scrunch, it was cute but it was also an indication of anger.

“Don’t be smart—you know lying by omission is the same thing as lying.”

“Okay, now that you’re talking to me, tell me, when did we go back in time, because as far as I know, I’m twenty-three, I have a college degree, a job, an apartment, a dead fiancé, and a man in my bed. So I kinda wanna know why you’re talking to me like I’m sixteen.”

Her voice got quiet when she warned, “Be careful, Tabby.”

“Fuck careful, Tyra.”

She blinked. I’d never talked to her like that. Heck, I didn’t know if I’d ever talked to anyone like that. Actually, I never thought I would, not to Tyra, we were that tight.

But in this instance, having had days to think on it (okay, stew on it), I knew she was in the wrong and I was in the right.

I didn’t respond to her surprise.

I kept going.

“How dare you?” I asked.

“Pardon?” she asked back, but quietly.

“How dare you think you deserve to know who I’m sleeping with when I want to keep that private, between him and me, be happy for a little while, just get used to him, the relationship we’re building, the life we’re going to share? How dare you think that is not my choice to make but it’s yours or Dad’s or anybody’s? How dare you not take my calls like you’re putting me in the naughty corner when Dad’s pissed, on a rampage, and something this important is on the line? And how dare you sit there and act like I owe you pieces of me that are not yours to own unless I deem them something I wish to share, like who’s in my bed?”

She stared up at me, lips parted.

I was so angry, I refused to register her hurt. I kept talking.

“You wanna know why we didn’t share?” I leaned toward her and threw out an arm in the direction of the Compound. “That’s why. We both knew that would happen, Tyra, and we were so f*cking happy, we wanted a piece of that before we had to face your judgment.”

“Tabby,” she started, standing from her chair and I was right—tight, smart, sex-kitten skirt. “Shy is—”

My hand shot up. “Stop right there,” I snapped. “I’ll warn you now not to say anything you’ll regret. Rush already spouted that shit to me, and the grudge he has to bear from me is currently scheduled to last years. You have no clue what Shy is. You know who knows?” I jerked my thumb toward my chest. “Me!”

“You’ve suffered a grave loss,” she reminded me quietly.

“Yeah, Tyra, a year ago. I had a grave loss a year ago. Now I’m found.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think—”

I cut her off again. “You don’t get to think. Dad doesn’t get to think. Big Petey. Dog. Brick. Boz. Natalie. All you all…” I lifted a hand and circled it in the air before I dropped it “… don’t get to think. I live my life, no matter how much you or Dad or anyone loves me, or how much I love all of you, you don’t get to live my life for me, tell me how to live it or judge me for the decisions I make. I know what I have with Shy. Shy knows what he has with me. If I thought I wouldn’t be facing this, right here, with you, explaining why I fell in love with the man I love, I would have shared with you while I was falling in love with the man I love. And, frankly, Tyra, you’re my stepmom but you’re also my friend, I thought a true friend who got me, and not only did I miss sharing that with you, it hurt when the time was forced on us to share and you wouldn’t let me.”