Walk the Edge
Page 61
I flex my toes and, with my arms hugging my knees, I rock. “Does it change? When people get married? Your friend Oz, the one who graduated this past year—his mom works with my mom at the hospital. Would her husband talk to her with what you can’t talk to me about?”
He shakes his head no and my feet collapse to the ground. It all feels hopeless. How can you be with someone who won’t talk to you about the most important part of their lives?
“Are you saying I know everything about you?” he asks. “That even if we were married with ten kids, that you wouldn’t keep a secret your best friend swore you to protect?”
“That’s different.” I think of how I promised Addison I would never divulge to anyone that her father hurts her and her mother.
He hikes a skeptical brow. “Integrity’s integrity. Not too many ways you can split hairs on that subject.”
Though I don’t like it, I understand, then decide to let it go. “The club—it’s your family?”
“We’re fucked-up enough to be blood-related.”
I giggle, and he pushes me with his shoulder. “At the end of the day, the shit you take is worth being part of your family, right?”
My mind wanders to Clara and Liam and Zac and Paul. I reminisce about dishes and years of diapers and how I’m the outsider. “I love them, but I’m not sure I belong.” Or if they even believe I belong with them. “I’m not sure I belong anywhere.”
His eyes soften. “Maybe you belong with the Terror. Most people who join, they say the same thing—that they never felt like they belonged anywhere else, and when they found us, they found a home.”
His words hit a place too raw and I try to smile my way out of the ache. “I’m a girl, remember? You said only boys were allowed.”
His gaze travels my body and my cheeks burn hot. “Never forgotten for a second you’re a woman, but if you’re with me, you become a part of us.”
It’s like someone stabbed me with an EpiPen. Pure adrenaline shocks my system as I replay his words. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
My heart leaps.
“And no.”
A verbal slap across the face.
“I talked to you in public one time and you saw a fraction of the backlash this town will unleash if you’re with me. I like you, Breanna. More than like. We can do this and try to keep it on the down low, but someone is going to figure it out. I need to decide if I can live with being the person who puts you in the line of fire, and I want you to think long and hard about being the girl associated with the Terror.”
It makes logical sense, but it honestly hurts my heart. Because of how people gossip, my lone sin with Razor could be to hold his hand and kiss him good-night on the front porch steps, but the moment everyone sees me with him, I’ll be labeled biker trash for life.
“Plus you’ll need to come to the clubhouse. At least once. To see if you can handle some of what I’ll be around if you choose me.”
“What kind of stuff are you talking about?”
Razor picks up a stone and rolls it in his hand. “Drinking. Partying. Girls.” He shuts his mouth into a firm line, then opens it again. “I had sex for the first time last spring—the night I was patched in. Didn’t just have it once and I didn’t do it with the same girl. I was drunk and I was curious and I did it. Before that, I messed around with girls but never took it too far, and I haven’t taken it that far since. But...
“That night wasn’t right. Point is, if you’re around enough, you’re going to run into some of those girls. If you end up with me, someone will tell you the stories. They’ll tell you because we’re talking shit or because someone’s out to make you feel bad.”
My hand presses against my abdomen, as if someone had kicked me in the gut. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll never cheat,” he says in a tone that suggests I don’t question him. “I swear to God, if you’re with me, I’ll be faithful. I’m capable of a lot of things, but cheating’s not one of them.”
His eyes bore into mine and my head is swimming with so many thoughts and emotions. Even with the turbulence, there’s no doubt I can depend upon that promise like a life preserver.
“Do you kill people?” Because I can’t be with him if the answer is yes.
“No, and you watch too much TV. We’re a legit club. I won’t lie, I carry a weapon for my job. If some bastard shoots at me, by law, I’m allowed to shoot back. It’s called self-defense. But I only carry my gun when I’m working for the security company. When I’m off, it’s locked up tight in a safe at the club. I’m not interested in carrying any other time. A gun’s a heavy burden. I never forget that when I carry. Life means something to me and I don’t plan on stealing it from anyone else.”
My face practically twitches as I attempt to process that tidbit of information.
“Do you trust me?” Razor asks.
I survey the field and listen. The lack of people’s voices or the sound of traffic on the road confirms my answer. I’m already alone with him, so... “Yes. What do we do now? Take it one step at a time? Go from one day to the next until we get caught or decide to do something different?”
Razor cracks a grin. “Works for me. Especially if I get to kiss you.”
I laugh and my mind is hunting wildly for the logic, for the pattern. There’s a slow throb when I wind up chasing my tail. We’re a couple, but we’re not. We’re together, yet we’re supposed to be figuring out if we want to or should be together. We care for each other, yet we’re keeping it a secret.
He shakes his head no and my feet collapse to the ground. It all feels hopeless. How can you be with someone who won’t talk to you about the most important part of their lives?
“Are you saying I know everything about you?” he asks. “That even if we were married with ten kids, that you wouldn’t keep a secret your best friend swore you to protect?”
“That’s different.” I think of how I promised Addison I would never divulge to anyone that her father hurts her and her mother.
He hikes a skeptical brow. “Integrity’s integrity. Not too many ways you can split hairs on that subject.”
Though I don’t like it, I understand, then decide to let it go. “The club—it’s your family?”
“We’re fucked-up enough to be blood-related.”
I giggle, and he pushes me with his shoulder. “At the end of the day, the shit you take is worth being part of your family, right?”
My mind wanders to Clara and Liam and Zac and Paul. I reminisce about dishes and years of diapers and how I’m the outsider. “I love them, but I’m not sure I belong.” Or if they even believe I belong with them. “I’m not sure I belong anywhere.”
His eyes soften. “Maybe you belong with the Terror. Most people who join, they say the same thing—that they never felt like they belonged anywhere else, and when they found us, they found a home.”
His words hit a place too raw and I try to smile my way out of the ache. “I’m a girl, remember? You said only boys were allowed.”
His gaze travels my body and my cheeks burn hot. “Never forgotten for a second you’re a woman, but if you’re with me, you become a part of us.”
It’s like someone stabbed me with an EpiPen. Pure adrenaline shocks my system as I replay his words. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
My heart leaps.
“And no.”
A verbal slap across the face.
“I talked to you in public one time and you saw a fraction of the backlash this town will unleash if you’re with me. I like you, Breanna. More than like. We can do this and try to keep it on the down low, but someone is going to figure it out. I need to decide if I can live with being the person who puts you in the line of fire, and I want you to think long and hard about being the girl associated with the Terror.”
It makes logical sense, but it honestly hurts my heart. Because of how people gossip, my lone sin with Razor could be to hold his hand and kiss him good-night on the front porch steps, but the moment everyone sees me with him, I’ll be labeled biker trash for life.
“Plus you’ll need to come to the clubhouse. At least once. To see if you can handle some of what I’ll be around if you choose me.”
“What kind of stuff are you talking about?”
Razor picks up a stone and rolls it in his hand. “Drinking. Partying. Girls.” He shuts his mouth into a firm line, then opens it again. “I had sex for the first time last spring—the night I was patched in. Didn’t just have it once and I didn’t do it with the same girl. I was drunk and I was curious and I did it. Before that, I messed around with girls but never took it too far, and I haven’t taken it that far since. But...
“That night wasn’t right. Point is, if you’re around enough, you’re going to run into some of those girls. If you end up with me, someone will tell you the stories. They’ll tell you because we’re talking shit or because someone’s out to make you feel bad.”
My hand presses against my abdomen, as if someone had kicked me in the gut. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll never cheat,” he says in a tone that suggests I don’t question him. “I swear to God, if you’re with me, I’ll be faithful. I’m capable of a lot of things, but cheating’s not one of them.”
His eyes bore into mine and my head is swimming with so many thoughts and emotions. Even with the turbulence, there’s no doubt I can depend upon that promise like a life preserver.
“Do you kill people?” Because I can’t be with him if the answer is yes.
“No, and you watch too much TV. We’re a legit club. I won’t lie, I carry a weapon for my job. If some bastard shoots at me, by law, I’m allowed to shoot back. It’s called self-defense. But I only carry my gun when I’m working for the security company. When I’m off, it’s locked up tight in a safe at the club. I’m not interested in carrying any other time. A gun’s a heavy burden. I never forget that when I carry. Life means something to me and I don’t plan on stealing it from anyone else.”
My face practically twitches as I attempt to process that tidbit of information.
“Do you trust me?” Razor asks.
I survey the field and listen. The lack of people’s voices or the sound of traffic on the road confirms my answer. I’m already alone with him, so... “Yes. What do we do now? Take it one step at a time? Go from one day to the next until we get caught or decide to do something different?”
Razor cracks a grin. “Works for me. Especially if I get to kiss you.”
I laugh and my mind is hunting wildly for the logic, for the pattern. There’s a slow throb when I wind up chasing my tail. We’re a couple, but we’re not. We’re together, yet we’re supposed to be figuring out if we want to or should be together. We care for each other, yet we’re keeping it a secret.
