When she got in the car, I couldn’t ride off. I was already feeling like an ass for letting that all play out in public, in front of our friends. I wasn't going to let her break like that in front of them. When I walked to her car, smashed the window and took her in my arms, I felt the fight leave her. I knew I had fucked up and pushed her too far, so I held her in silence, unsure where to begin or how we would move past it. I knew she would have struggled with her decision to not tell me, but as the hours ticked by and I held her in my arms, that anger I was feeling turned into sadness, which turned into relief, which then ended with grief. It was a cycle, and every emotion pushed me to a new frame of mind.
So I left her in the middle of the night, driving the two hours to visit Keira. A part of me wishes I hadn’t left, hadn’t walked away, but I just couldn’t face her when I had no idea how I was feeling. Anger, grief, relief?
I never thought I’d become a dad again. After Keira’s death, I vowed that I wouldn’t allow myself to open my heart up like that again, to endure that love like no other with the risk of it being taken away. But now I don’t know how I feel. Having had a week to work through the emotions of Holly’s revelation, the thought that I was so close to having that again makes me want to snatch that vow back.
“You wanna get off your fucking phone and watch what you’re doing?” Beau grumbles beside me as we sit and wait for a phone call. We're about to move into our second recovery for this month. Jesse was meant to ride along with Beau tonight, but I agreed, needing to get out of the clubhouse.
“Fuck, Beau. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” I tease him and even I’m shocked for a moment.
“Fuck me, that text was from her?” he guesses, considering my reaction to his moody comment.
“It wasn’t.”
“Bullshit. One minute you’re sulking, the next you’re fucking teasing.”
“Whatever, asshole. It was Jesse.”
“Yeah? What did he want?” he asks, and I pause, not sure what to say; the bastard has me.
“I fucking knew it,” he sighs. “First Nix and now you.”
“Me what?”
“You, you’re fucking pussy whipped, lost in your head over some bitch.”
“Watch it,” I warn, not liking him call Holly a bitch, no matter what she has done.
“See,” he accuses, and he’s right. I’m a fucking goner.
“Whatever,” I shrug, hoping he lets it go. I don't want to talk about anything with him regarding Holly.
“Yeah, whatever,” he murmurs. Only his whatever comes across as disappointment. We sit in silence for a few more minutes both lost in our thoughts. I wonder why she came now? Tonight? The desperate need to know eats away at me. Until the phone vibrates on the dash.
“Yep?” Beau answers softly into the phone. “Okay, be there in five,” he hangs up and starts the truck. “You ready?” he asks, looking concerned.
“By the look on your face, no,” I say as we pull out of the parking lot. I need to prepare myself for what I see tonight; this is my third ride along and each time it gets worse. Seeing these women so beaten and scared fucks with me. I know this is Beau's thing, his passion, and I know what we are doing is the right thing. I just find it hard to stay calm when I witness what happens here.
“You know my sister died at the hands of men like this?” Beau breaks the silence a few minutes later as we head to the first safe house.
“Yeah,” I reply, unsure how to respond. Fuck, what do you say to that? I only found out about Beau’s sister last year. Jesse was talking about it one night and I had no fucking idea that’s what happened.
“Could have killed the fucker, too. Could have taken him out with my bare hands.” His voice becomes harsher with each word he speaks.
“Why didn’t you?” I know if I had a sister and her husband killed her with his fists, I wouldn't hesitate to fucking kill him.
“Because I wanted justice for my sister. The fucker would have gotten off easy.”
I nod, agreeing to some extent, but in my quest of redemption and letting go, I haven’t got to that point yet. “This is why you do this?” I ask, wondering why we slowly seem to be getting in deeper.
“Yeah, these women, if they don’t get out, they’re dead. I wish my sister had that option, a place to go.”
I don’t say anything, what is there to say? I wish he didn’t have to live with that. Wish we all didn’t have to live with some of the ugly shit from our pasts.
After a few more silent minutes, we pull up to an old dirt road and turn down it.
“We need in and out on this one; she’s been patched up, but she needs medical attention, fast,” he tells me as we come to a stop out the front of an old barn.
“Where are we gonna get that, Beau?” I ask, feeling uneasy again. Fuck, this is going to get out of hand. We’ve never had a pickup that needed medical attention before.
“Let's just see how bad she is. We need to get her out first.” He reverses the old truck we use for pick-ups, and slowly brings it closer to the entrance.
Leaving the engine running, we exit the truck and Beau heads to the back door, knocking while I make sure no one comes down the drive. The light outside the porch illuminates the inky night and then the back door opens.
“She’s not good,” a woman’s voice says and the fear in it puts me on edge.