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  Sydney wipes her cheek. “You can stop trying to make me feel better, Bo. I get it. I really do.”

  “This,” I say, gesturing between us, “isn’t real. It’s me getting hung up on the first girl I stuck my dick in after six years. You’re just into me because I don’t suck as much as every other guy in the club. Our standards are really low here.”

  Sydney nods, but the expression in her eyes kills me. “I like you, but I’m not dumb. I know what this was and I always knew you’d find someone that wasn’t tied to the club. You should find someone free of all the bullshit. Get a place of your own and a woman of your own. Maybe ditch the errand boy job and work on cars like you want. Fix the life they ruined.”

  Sydney gets it. I don’t have to defend myself. She knows what I need to be happy and won’t make me feel bad about it. Fuck her for being understanding. Now, I feel like shit.

  “We’re cool?” I ask, wanting away from her even while needing to distract her from her tears. I want to make her smile and laugh and come. We could return to the bedroom and forget about my date with some random chick I don’t care about. While I do care about Sydney, she belongs to the club and I need to get the hell away from those freaks.

  “We’re cool, but can I give you some advice about your date?”

  “Sure,” I mutter, pissed about her being so fucking nice about it.

  “Don’t be an asshole. Not every woman is as easily swayed by your good looks as I am. Some of them want a personality too, so fake it.”

  Grinning, I smack her on the ass. “Any woman who wants a piece of me will have to accept I’m an asshole. No fixing my flaws.”

  “How do you know? I bet you haven’t even tried.”

  “Yeah, but I’m lazy and stubborn. Two of my many flaws that keep me from changing my other flaws.”

  Sydney smiles, but her eyes are sad and wet. “Just try to be the guy you were before prison. Let her see that guy and you’ll have a chance.”

  I watch her clean a plate and set it to dry. She seems calm, but I feel her distance now.

  “We’re still cool, right?” I ask again, standing next to her.

  “Yeah. I’m not a dreamer and I never hoped for anything besides us having fun while you figured out your life. Now, you are and I’m happy for you.”

  I need to touch her to know she’s still real. Since I left prison, everything has felt fluid and there was nothing to hold onto except Sydney. Now, she is slipping through my fingers.

  “It’s just a date to make Cal happy,” I whisper as my fingers play with her damp ponytail. “I don’t even remember the chick’s name.”

  “If you forget it on the date, just call her babe. You’re really sexy when you say that.”

  My hands caress her waist and I want to go back to bed. Her acceptance of the date is bothering me. Making it more real, I guess. I’m hurting her too and I know in bed I can make her smile again.

  Sydney squirms away. “You shouldn’t fuck someone else before a date.”

  “I already fucked you this morning,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Ate you out too.”

  Sydney grins. “That’s roommate sex and doesn’t count.”

  “Then why would us fucking right now count?”

  Her gaze locks on mine and I don’t want her to answer. Things have changed. We might pretend to be roomies, but we’re more. She’s the only friend I have. The only person I trust. Now, I’m going out with some bitch. More than that, I’m telling the club that Sydney isn’t my favorite. She’s a club whore I’m shacking up with, but don’t plan to keep. I might as well post a “Pussy Is Open” sign out front.

  As I leave to run Johnny’s errands for the day, I have a weird feeling in my gut that I can’t place. Not until I drive past Chili’s later do I realize I’m scared of what happens next.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sydney

  Pep Talks for a Breaking Heart

  By the rules of the Grove, Bo isn’t mine. He is property of the club like me. One day, he’ll get rented out to a girlfriend or maybe even a wife. The club will always own him though.

  Even knowing this rationally, my heart hurts to think of him with someone else. Since he showed up at the trailer, Bo owns a part of me. He feels right in my bed like no guy’s ever come close. Bo both makes me laugh and drives me insane with his bullshit swagger. He’s both selfish and generous. When I see glimpses of the man he was before prison, my heart breaks at what he’s lost.

  At night as we sit on the couch and watch crappy sitcoms, Bo isn’t an ex-con and I’m not a club whore. Instead, he’s a young guy looking to build a new life and I’m the girl who can make him happy.

  None of those good feelings and easy moments matter when the club wants him out fucking other chicks. He needs to prove he isn’t whipped. Mostly, he needs to prove he understands I’m club property. This is why he’ll fuck another girl tonight while my evening involves laundry.

  I’m relieved when Dad arrives and I have company besides Romeo. From the kitchen, I see him struggling to get out of his car. Every day he seems weaker and I fear the morning I find him gone. My dad has been my life for so long and I can’t imagine being on my own.

  I don’t help Dad get inside though. He’s a proud man especially since his bad decisions sentenced me to the life as a club whore. Dad doesn’t want me coddling him, so I pretend not to notice how long it takes him to get in the trailer.

  Dad says hello to me then Romeo. After getting himself a glass of water and settling into his chair, he asks the question I’m dreading.

  “Where’s Bo?”

  “On a date,” I say lightly, faking the indifference I’ve practiced all day.

  “Why?”

  “Club wants him to fuck a hot chick and he’ll just have to suffer through it.”

  “I like him.”

  Frowning, I flop on the couch. “That’s your pep talk?”

  “Do you need one? He ain’t cheating with some girl he met. He’s doing what the club wants, just like you are. If he had a choice, I bet he’d be the bedroom with you. Afterwards, he’d order pizza and watch TV and practice with his phone. You two would sit outside and talk about nothing until the drunks got too loud then you’d return to bed. That’s what I think would happen if the club wasn’t pulling his strings.”

  I watch my dad flipping through channels. His pep talks aren’t great, but they do the trick. Bo needs to do whatever necessary to stay alive, just like I do to keep my dad safe. Bo hadn’t sounded happy to go on a date and I didn’t think he was ready to chase chicks. I make him happy. Not forever. Yet for now, I was what he wanted.

  “Did you eat?” I ask Dad who nods.

  Dad opens his mouth to say something until we hear an approaching Harley. I want to believe Bo’s returning early because the girl didn’t interest him. Or he fucked her quick so he could get back to me. I know the sound of his bike though and this isn’t it.

  Dad sees my face and understands. He struggles to his feet and starts for his room. I think to check my appearance, but don’t care if I look like crap. The guy at my door isn’t Bo and nothing else matters.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bo

  Tabloid Rags

  Pulling into Longhorn’s parking lot, I remember how this is where I ate steak for the first time with Sydney. This is the place where I first made her cry by being an asshole, yet someone managed to make her laugh afterwards. That evening, Sydney looked at me like I was her blessing and a curse. I want to see those big eyes watching me now, but instead I’m meeting Becks.

  I remember her vaguely from high school. She was a cheerleader and I never liked bouncing girls. Becks and her kind always reeked of high maintenance. While other guys had the patience for all the effort, I stuck to low drama girls. Sydney wasn’t high maintenance. She didn’t even freak out when I told her I was going out with a random chick. No, Sydney never loses her shit even when I deserve it.

  Becks still looks good. Her tan is
a bit too dark and I swear she’s got glitter on her tits that protrude from her tight shirt. She’s hot though. Dark hair like Sydney’s, but her eyes aren’t as wide or a pretty blue. I can’t look at Becks or hear her speak or watch her sip tequila without comparing her to the girl I left at home.

  “You look good, Bo,” Becks says, giving me a sexy smile. “Real good. Prison did you good.”

  That’s it. Done with this date before the appetizers arrive, I stand up.

  “I got the shits,” I tell her. “Must have ate something bad.”

  “Oh,” she mutters, startled by the change in my mood. “Do you want me to do something?”

  “About my diarrhea? No, only a toilet and maybe a magazine to read will help. You got one of those tabloid rags on you?”

  “No,” Becks says, looking around. “So you’re leaving?”

  “That or I’ll spend our whole date stinking up the restaurant.”

  I place a hundred dollars on the table. “Feel free to stay and eat on my dime. Or call a friend since this is more than enough to pay for two. Do whatever you need to do to make this right, but I better go before I crap my pants.”

  If Becks was Sydney, she would be laughing her ass off by now. Even if I was telling the truth, she would laugh because my girl finds humor in the most bizarre things. I love her laugh and how often she smiles at things others might ignore. She’s who I need to have dinner with and I’m not pretending otherwise, just to make Snake or Johnny happy. I especially won’t fake it with a girl horny at how I was locked up for six years like an animal.

  As I walk away, Becks dials up a girlfriend to join her for dinner. I know she’ll be fine. Even if she was bawling her eyes out, I wouldn’t stay. Becks isn’t my problem and her pain means nothing to me.

  When I arrive at the trailer, I find a Harley parked in front. A club guy is inside and he’s fucking what’s mine. Logically, I know Sydney is just a whore and she’s no more mine than anyone else. I don’t feel logical though. I feel like a raging beast as I tear open the screen door with enough ferocity to rip it loose.

  “What the fuck?” I yell.

  Sitting behind Jerry on the couch, Sydney massages his shoulders until I storm into the trailer. While the asshole flies off the couch, she cowers back. Her eyes are huge and I see myself for a moment the way she does. I’m a scary fuck and she’s terrified.

  “Hey, man,” Jerry mutters, hands up. “I thought you were on a date.”

  “Why are you fucking here?” I bellow and Romeo sprints out of the room. I sense Jerry wants to run too.

  “Like I said, I thought you were with some chick. My old lady is out of town and I figured I’d look up Sydney.”

  I struggle to control myself. My hands are in fists and I’m ready to tackle him. I want to bash his fucking face in, but Sydney’s expression keeps me from making the move. She’s so scared I think she’s lost the ability to breathe.

  “I’ll go,” Jerry says after we eye one another. “Be cool.”

  I say nothing as he passes by me. Standing perfectly still, I wait until his Harley speeds away to focus my gaze on a still panicked Sydney.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” I grunt, running my hands through my hair.

  Even nodding, she’s still staring like she might piss herself.

  “Did you fuck him?” I ask and she shakes her head.

  “Suck him off?”

  Sydney’s lower lip trembles and her eyes moisten. She shakes her head again.

  “I’m not going to hit you,” I say when she keep staring at me. “I don’t hit women. Fuck, I didn’t even hit that asshole.”

  Sydney blinks and a few tears roll down her cheeks.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” I say softer now.

  “What happened with your date?”

  “Did you want him here?”

  Sydney shakes her head and moves over when I join her on the couch.

  “You would have fucked him though.”

  “I have to,” she whispers, wiping her eyes.

  “If I stay here and want to fuck, you’ll only spread your legs because you have to.”

  “No.”

  “Why am I so special?”

  “Your brand of asshole is better than theirs.”

  I give her a little smile. “I know you’re not mine. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

  Sydney watches me and I know she’s going to fix my hair. I wait and she doesn’t disappoint. Her touch calms me and I feel like a fool.

  “I can’t believe I blew off my date and freaked out on Jerry because of a club whore.”

  Sydney presses my head against her chest and caresses my hair. “This is practice. You’re not ready for the real thing. Not after six years in jail. You need practice first. It’s why you don’t get a place of your own. You’re not ready for the real thing in a job, woman, or home.”

  “I wasn’t a kid when I went away.”

  “You were an eighteen year old guy. Essentially you were a stupid hormonal mess. You’re practicing right now. Like with your job. You don’t like having someone boss you around, but working in an auto shop means having a boss. Once you’re ready for the real deal, you can stop being an errand boy and start fixing cars. You’ll be ready for a place of your own and a woman too. This is just practice.”

  Glancing up at her, I hate Sydney for being so damn perfect. Tugging her into my lap, I press my forehead against hers.

  “That chick tonight was hot, but you’re hotter.”

  “Not bad for a club whore,” she whispers, nuzzling my cheek.

  “Not bad at all. I didn’t really want her. I’m not ready like you said. I don’t want to be nice. I don’t want to hear about her job or friends or how she likes to walk on beaches or some shit. I just want to be here with you. This place is a dump, but I like it anyway.”

  “You have the shittiest compliments.”

  Smiling, I do what I’ve wanted to do since I left her this morning. Her lips feel like home and her embrace welcomes me. I don’t care if she isn’t really mine.

  “I need a shower to wash off the feel of that chick,” I say, tugging Sydney to her feet.

  Looking tired, she smiles. “I’ll help. Let’s make it extra hot water too. I have stuff I want to wash off too.”

  For that night, she belongs to me and I know she wants it that way. With me, Sydney doesn’t have to pretend. Even with no way to prove her feelings are real, I refuse to believe otherwise. Of course, I’ve spent my whole life being a fucking sap. Why change now?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bo

  Oh, Mama

  That night, I dream of my mother. She was so beautiful and loving. Even when I was a teenager and didn’t want Mom babying me, she forced me into hugs. She said I would miss them one day. She was right too.

  Waking up to an empty bed, I look for Sydney. The thought of never seeing my mom again haunts me and I need my girl’s touch to soothe the pain.

  I find her crying outside on the stoop. Looking embarrassed when she sees me, Sydney wipes her eyes quickly, but still hiccups through her tears.

  “Bad dream?” I ask.

  Sydney nods, but she’s lying. Her exhaustion and the sadness prevent her from hiding from me. In her expression are the hints of secrets she’s keeping. Any other time, I would push for the answers, but I’m tired and upset too.

  “I dreamed of my mom,” I say as she leans her head against my bare chest. “She was the way I remembered, but all that shit was a lie. Mom wasn’t the woman I thought. She was more concerned with an asshole like Snake than her own kid.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She visited me in prison just the one fucking time. Even after she was sick and knew she might die, she didn’t come. She never even fucking said goodbye.”

  I wish I didn’t sound like a little kid, but six years of disappointment and resentment rise up inside me. She was my mom, but I wasn’t her son.

  “You don’t know why she
didn’t visit. You shouldn’t assume.”

  “Why not? She was an adult. She owned a car and could drive. She had a phone and could call. The bitch just didn’t care.”

  Sydney doesn’t shrink at my rage. She only wipes the single tear rolling down my cheek.

  “She was married to a killer. I doubt she owned her life anymore than we own ours. She was property of the club.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “Neither do you.”

  Frowning, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “It wasn’t only Wendi that makes me afraid to trust. Mom was the person I loved the most and she abandoned me. I didn’t even know she died until she was in the ground.”

  “She loved you, Bo,” Sydney says softly. “You wouldn’t have turned out the way you did if she didn’t love you. A man growing up unloved can’t feel the way you do. Trust me.”

  “You didn’t know her.”

  “Maybe you didn’t either. You knew your mom, but not the woman married to Snake. You can’t know what it’s like to have them in your bed. The way they make you feel small and weak. I know they own you, but it’s different for women.”

  Staring into her big eyes, I fight the urge to say shit I can’t take back when the sun comes up and my mood improves. I want to make promises I can’t keep. Give her vows that fall apart when reality sets in.

  “I didn’t want to go out with that chick,” I whisper instead of what I need to say.

  “I know.”

  “She isn’t what I want.”

  Sydney nods and I know she understands. It doesn’t change the fact that we’re stuck because she won’t run and I can’t go without her.

  “Let’s go back to bed,” she says, standing up, “and sleep until we can pretend we’re different people with different choices. Tomorrow, we’ll wake up and fuck and laugh and it’ll be a great lie we can believe. Tonight has too much truth to it.”

  I stand and take her hand. Entering the trailer, I feel the weight of the Gutters on my every breath. They stole six years from me. If Sydney’s right which she usually is, the club took my mom from me when she was dying. As much as they stole before, I know they weren’t done.