Defying Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC Series Book 3) (7 page)

When Harlow finally turns her face back toward us, I can see a handprint, clear as day and red as can be, on her face. And it looks like her lip was split open a little bit, because there are a few drops of blood on her bottom lip.

I feel like I need to do something, anything, to stop what’s going on right now, but I’m so shocked that I just stand there and watch two of the three women I care about in my life standoff toe to toe.

The first to break the silence is Dani. “I have had enough. You walk around like the world has wronged you and that you’re all alone, but you’re not, Harlow. We’ve been here from the very beginning, but you don’t get that, do you? We are
family
!”

“I don’t have a family—” Harlow starts to say, but she’s cut off.

“Yes you do!” Dani yells. “From the first day you started working here, you became our family and we became yours. But you walked away from us—not even telling us what happened, where you were going, and when you’d be back—
if
you’d be back. For all we knew, you fucking died, Harlow! How the hell were we to know, huh? But then you come back, and we were so fucking happy that you did. But what you’re doing, the way you’re acting and treating those around you, it needs to fucking stop. I’ve stayed quiet because I thought you’d snap out of it, or shit, at least talk to me about what’s been going on. Whatever chip you have on your shoulder, share it with us. We’ll help you carry it, honey. That’s what family does—we will be there for you and help you walk those hard roads so you aren’t alone. So,
please
, just tell us what is going on, Low. We love you and just want to be there for you.”

I watched Harlow’s eyes the whole time Dani said her piece, and with every word Dani spoke, it was like I was watching a little piece of Harlow leave her body, until there was nothing left. There is now nothing in her eyes—no hurt, no anger, no confusion, no love. Just nothing. She’s completely broken. Void of anything that resembled the girl we once knew.

I take a step toward her to take her in my arms, but my movement snaps her out of wherever she just was. A little bit of clarity touches her eyes, and then she’s gone. She turns around on her heels and runs out of the shop. But this time, I won’t let her get away.

I briefly glance down at Dani to make sure she’s all right. She nods. “Go get her. Bring our girl back, Louie.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m out the door in two seconds and chasing after the girl that got away once before, but I won’t let her run a second time. This time, she’s gonna face what’s happened, whatever it may be, but she’ll have me this time. She’ll have all of us. Because Dani was right—we’re fucking
family
.

Chapter 6

Harlow

After running out the door, I walk at a fast pace down the street, trying not to draw unwanted attention.

I have no idea where I’m going, but I don’t want to stay here. I wish I could just hail a cab and book it out of this town—out of this state, for that matter—but something inside is stopping me. As much as I want to run and never look back, I can’t do that again. I won’t. I know I need to face everyone here and explain, it’s just harder than I thought it would be. I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes or for them to say it’s okay when it’s not. I just need to get away for a while, even if it’s only a few blocks. I want to be alone and figure out what just happened and why I reacted the way I did.

I honestly don’t know what overcame me. I mean, I know Dani doesn’t feel that way for Louie—she never did. It’s always been Blaze for her. But seeing her in Louie’s arms like that hurt. It cut me so deep that I had to cut back. I wanted them both to feel even a fraction of what I’ve been feeling for the past two years. Pain. Anger. Hate. But fuck, that slap across my face hurt, even though I deserved it and probably so much more.

Licking my lip, I taste blood. I figured it broke open because it stung like a bitch, and tasting the blood only confirms it.

Since I got the news two years ago, I haven’t been thinking rationally about anything. Not like I’ve ever really made good decisions, but it’s even worse now. I know that if they only knew what I was going through or what happened, that things would be different, that they could and would help me. But I’m not ready to share that with them, I don’t know if I ever will be able to. Their pity would just be too much and they won’t understand. Sure, they’ve all been dealt a shitty hand in life in their own way, but nothing like what happened to me. It’s just not the same. There’s no way they will be able to understand.

A few minutes later, I come up to an old playground. It looks like it hasn’t seen any playtime from a child in ages. It’s all rundown and broken—just like me.

Something pulls me closer and makes me stop at the swings. I feel a connection to this place, or at least to a
memory
of a place like this, but I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about coming here with my brother or the feelings of being carefree, loved, and not alone. And I sure as shit don’t want to think about how it makes me feel now that all of that is gone. I just want to sit down and forget everything, if only for a few minutes.

Taking a seat on one of the swings, I close my eyes and give myself a little push until I start to gently swing. It’s peaceful sitting here alone. With the outside world shut out.

But then the memories take hold and I can picture myself years ago—as a little girl, begging to go higher. I wanted to touch the sky, but as soon as I got that extra push I needed, I was so scared, crying, begging to stop. I didn’t want to fall, but there was always a voice saying, “You won’t fall, Princess, I’ll never let you go.”

In the quiet of the night, I can almost hear it now.

“Harlow?” Hearing my name snaps me back to the here and now, where I’m once again alone. Where I feel the pain and anger and hatred.

I don’t need to open my eyes to know who’s here with me. It should shock me that he followed me, but deep down I think I knew he would. That I needed him to.

Louie won’t let me go far, at least until we talk about what happened all those years ago, the night before my world ended. I should have pulled him aside as soon as I was back and got it out of the way, that way nothing would hold me here anymore, but I suppose I was afraid. Afraid to end whatever it is that’s going on, afraid to not have anyone again, even if I don’t really have him in the first place. But mostly, I think I was afraid to end the one thing holding me here.
Him
.

“Come to scold me for what I said at the shop?” I calmly ask, needing to keep the edge in my voice. I pray it will push him away, but dread it at the same time.

And there’s also a part of me that knows I deserve his scolding
and
his anger. I deserve that and so much more. He should
hate
me. I
want
him to hate me. It would make this so much easier. I only wish I could convince myself that it wouldn’t crush me, that I don’t care if he never wanted to speak to me again after tonight. But I do.

“No.”

“Then you’ve come to talk about what happened with us before I left?” I ask the next question with a little more heat, but also with hesitancy because as much as I know we need to talk about it, I don’t want to. I just don’t have it in me to fight anymore though, so I guess it’s gonna happen whether I want to or not.

“Nope,” he says, which makes me open my eyes to look at him.

Once he sees my eyes on his, he adds, “Not yet, anyway.”

Well, at least he’s honest. Just not sure what it is he
does
want to talk about. If not what happened at the shop and it’s not what happened with us years ago when he took my virginity, then what?

Closing my eyes again, I ask, “Well, what is it you
do
want, then?”

He’s quiet so long, that after what feels like hours, I open my eyes again and see that he’s sitting on the swing next to me, staring right at me.

“Why did you leave?” he asks quietly. I know what he’s referring to, but I try to delay it as long as I can.

“Does it matter? I left and now I’m back. Let’s just leave it at that,” I say before digging my feet in the dirt to stop the swing and get up. Not waiting for him to either say something or stop me, I start walking back toward the shop, wanting to get away from Louie and desperately needing to quiet the chaos inside my head. Stopping at this park was a mistake. It made me
feel
. Feel everything, but mostly it made me feel the loss and heartache. And now with him here, trying to dig deep inside my head for answers I don’t want to give, I’m desperate to flee. I’m desperate to drown out the voices inside my head and the aching hole inside my chest. I think I have a bottle of something that will do the trick.

I don’t make it even five steps before Louie grabs me by my arm and hauls me around to face him. “It just does. Now tell me. Why the fuck did you leave? Why then? Was what we did really that bad? Do you regret it that fucking much?” He’s angry now, but not as angry as I am that he won’t let it go.

“And if I
do
regret it?” I say through clenched teeth.

I don’t regret what happened, at least not in the way he may think. But since he’s bringing it up and making me dredge up all these memories—memories of not only the way he made me feel, but what happened after. How after I gave myself to him, I was left with nothing—I want to piss him off and make him think that I do. I want him to hurt like I hurt.

He just stares at me, searching for the truth, but I won’t let him find it. I can’t, because if he knows what happened, then it makes it real. And if it’s real, then that would mean that it’s over. If it’s over, then that means I need to forget, and dammit, I can’t fucking forget it. It’s carved on my skin, it’s in my soul. It fucking haunts me while I’m sleeping and even while I’m awake.

Finally, he speaks. “I don’t believe that. Not for one fucking second. It may have happened at the wrong time and you may want to regret it, but you don’t.”

The way that he seems so sure, like there’s not a doubt in his mind that I don’t feel that way, makes me even angrier.
How fucking dare he!
He doesn’t know what I think! He doesn’t have the right to stand there and judge me or tell me how I feel.

“You don’t know jack fucking shit! I wish that night with you never fucking happened! If it didn’t, then he’d still fucking be here! He’d still be a part of my life and the past two years of feeling worthless and like I was to blame wouldn’t have fucking happened either. I wouldn’t be standing here right now feeling like all the air in my lungs were gone. I wouldn’t feel like I died and am now living in a constant state of agony. If I would have never let you fuck me, he’d still be here! But it did fucking happen, and now he’s gone.”

I swear, if I could shoot fire out of my mouth or lasers out of my eyes, I would have, that’s how fucking heated and pissed I am, though I’m taking it out on the wrong person. I know that—God, do I fucking know that, but it doesn’t stop me.

“He was always my rock, my every-fucking-thing. He told me that I was better than this and to not throw my life away on any man. Not unless he deserved me. Hendrix always thought I was a good girl, and that no one would ever be worthy of me. But you know what?
I’m
the one who isn’t worthy and I
did
give it all away. I threw it all away for you.
You!
And because of that, I’m being punished. Because of that, he’s
gone
.”

My breathing is rapid and my heart is racing so fast, you probably can’t even hear the separate beats anymore. It would sound like one long, loud beat that goes on forever.

I can feel myself getting lightheaded and almost sick to my stomach thinking about what happened, but now I can’t stop. I can’t stop seeing his face, hearing his voice telling me I fucked up, and the last time I saw him and the vacant look in his eyes. He’s gone and I can’t fucking stand it, it hurts so bad it burns me from the inside out. Burns me with rage and despair.

In my head, I see his face, and I can hear his laugh. He was so full of life and love for me. But it’s all gone. I’ll never see his smile or be able to listen to him tell me he loves me. I’ll never have the opportunity to hug him or tell him how much I love him or how much he meant to me. He’s just
gone
.

I feel tears running down my face and it’s all too much. I can’t handle this. I just want it all to go away—the anger, the guilt, and the pain.

Suddenly, Louie grabs my shoulders and shakes me—literally shakes me. “Harlow, what the fuck are you talking about?”

There’s a hard edge to his voice and I let it fuel my rage. I let it breath inside of me to allow me to tell him what happened.

“He’s dead,” I yell. “He’s gone and it’s all your fault!”

I start to hit his chest with my fists, doing everything in my power to take it out on him. And he lets me.

He’s the one who made me feel like I was worthy and that the feelings I felt for him were real. He’s the one who I wanted to give myself to and I wanted it. I wanted it! But all it left me with was emptiness. It left me alone.

And I start to break inside. The pieces of concrete around my emotions start to falter that allows the tears to fall.

Louie sees I’m breaking, and just when I think there will be nothing left of me, he wraps his strong arms around me and holds me together. But it’s so much more than just holding me together—it’s like he’s mending what’s broken, little by little, just by holding me.

“He’s dead,” I say on a broken whisper.

Instead of letting me go, shocked and uncertain, he continues to hold me, rubbing my back. “Who, Harlow?” he whispers back.

Without thinking, I just let it all out. “My brother. My
twin
brother. That’s why I left. He’s dead.”

There was a part of me that thought after saying the words out loud, the pain would go away. That it would help me to finally start healing, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel
worse
.

Louie pulls back far enough so he can look down at me, but I can’t look at him. It will just add to the whirlwind of feelings that are tearing their way through my body. If I look at him, I’ll be pushed over the ledge and I don’t think I’ll be able to come back from that.

“What happened?” he asks after a silent moment.

His question forces me to finally look into his eyes. I see nothing but concern and pity, which pours more fuel on my anger. I don’t need his fucking pity. I don’t need
anything
from him!

“You know what? I’m not doing this. Not with you, not with
anyone
,” I say, then struggle to release myself from his tight hold, but it’s no use. “Let me go!” I yell.

“No. You’re going to tell me what happened. You
need
to let it out, Harlow. Keeping it all bottled up inside isn’t helping you. It will fester and boil until there’s nothing left. Do you understand me? There will be nothing left of you! And I won’t fucking let that happen.”

“Why the fuck do you care so much about what happens to me? You have it all—you have the friends, the family, and the job. You have everything!” I spit, suddenly not only angry at my brother for what he did, but at Louie, at the world. For everything they could ever dream of having while I’m left with nothing.

Louie shakes me again, this time hard enough that I can feel my teeth clash together. “I care because it’s
you
! I care because I can’t stand to see you in pain. And I can’t go another day without you in my life. Before you left, I
finally
felt like I did have everything. I felt I had that because of
you
. It didn’t matter if I had the club or my job, it only mattered that I got to see you every day. That I got to talk to you and make you laugh that beautiful laugh. And it only mattered when I had you in my arms. It killed me when you left. I had no idea where you were or when you’d be back, or if you even
would
come back. I didn’t know if it was because of me or if something happened. I died inside the day you left. Can’t you see? You matter. You mean more to me than anything has in a very long time.”