Chapter 25

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

SPENCER

The motel is a comfort that I knew I needed.

Ophelia was at the counter, her shrewd gaze on me when we arrived yesterday. As soon as Gnaw walked away and Rim was set up at the front door, I locked myself inside, showered, and climbed into bed.

It didn’t take me long to fall asleep, mainly because I was crying. I should have bought myself a bottle of wine and drank myself to sleep. Crying until I passed out seems like an amateur move.

But I did it, and my eyes are scratchy and dry to prove it. I’m sure when I look in the mirror, I’ll regret the whole evening and my stupid feelings. Inhaling a deep breath, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and force myself to stand.

My legs feel shaky, like I worked out yesterday, but I know for a fact that I did not. All I did was have my heart shattered and my soul crushed. Maybe that makes your body hurt the way a five-mile run with a side of Pilates would. Because that’s what I feel like right now.

Starting the shower, I avoid the mirror. My reflection is just not something I’m mentally prepared to see right now. Maybe I’ll look and feel better after, although I’m expecting a lot from soap and water.

I try not to think about Evan as I shower, but I fail. I can’t not think of him. My stupid heart loves him. Wants him—always and forever, like some sappy love song. I don’t know if there will ever be a happily ever after here. That woman, this town, that club—that man. It’s all tainted. I should have never come back.

Before dressing, I finally face the woman in the mirror. She looks back at me, purple bruising beneath her eyes from lack of sleep. They’re also puffy. Puffy purple eyes. Gross. My eyeballs are bloodshot, which makes everything appear even worse.

I honestly don’t think makeup can fix any of this, so I’m just going to have to accept my face for what it is—which is a hot-ass mess. Pulling on some clothes, I don’t look at myself in the mirror again.

I need to see Ophelia.

In a few days, I’ll be able to see my brother, then I’ll charge up my car and get the hell out of here, hopefully before Evan comes back. If not, I’m going to have to try to be the bad bitch I know I can be and tell him to fuck himself.

Although, I don’t know if I’ll be able to actually tell him any of that. I’ll probably just be the doormat that I am and lie down. I’ll take what he gives me and allow him to walk all over me, then hate myself for it later.

Sounds like a good plan. What could go wrong with it?

Gathering my purse, I open the motel room door and smile at Guts standing just outside. His head whips to the side, his eyes finding mine, and he gives me a sad smile. I can tell he doesn’t want to be here, and he doesn’t want me here either.

“I’m going to talk to Ophelia,” I announce.

He clears his throat, and I pause for a moment, waiting to hear if he’s going to comment on that. But he doesn’t say anything. He dips his chin before jerking it toward Ophelia’s front desk.

I walk past him, and he silently moves behind me. I can feel his presence close, but he doesn’t speak. I don’t know why, but I have no doubt it’s because he disapproves of me moving out of Evan’s, but I don’t feel like asking him, so I don’t.

“You’re back,” Ophelia announces as soon as the little bell above the door rings and alerts her to my entering the room.

Letting out a sigh, I walk over to the free coffee, knowing it’s going to taste like shit. Then I dump in as much cream and sugar as I think my body can handle before I sink down onto the stool in front of the desk.

“I’m back,” I grunt.

Ophelia’s eyes narrow on me, she presses her lips together, then dips her chin. She wants to hear the tea so she can give me her opinion and advice simultaneously. I’ll love and hate her for it—simultaneously.

So, instead of mincing words, I tell her everything. Down to the shoes and nails that woman had, I spill it all. Then, when I’m finished, when I tell her how I demanded that Gnaw bring me here, I wait for her to judge me.

Ophelia doesn’t speak right away. She watches me, no doubt attempting to gather her thoughts and words. She sucks in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, her eyes focused on mine.

“I think the girls and Gnaw are right. You need to talk to him.”

“Who is she, Ophelia?” I demand.

I know she knows. I could give her a description as vague as the girl’s hair color, and she would know her name and where she lived. I’ve given her an extremely detailed description of her, so I know she knows exactly who she is.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.

Ophelia doesn’t whisper. “Ophelia,” I warn. “Who is she?”

I watch as the woman who bends for no one actually shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Arching a brow, I watch her and wait. Because she’s wrestling with something, and she’s going to tell me exactly what it is.

“I know who she is,” she murmurs.

I can tell she is supremely uncomfortable, and that causes me discomfort as well. I want to tell her never mind, but my curiosity knows no bounds. My heart is shattered, my soul crushed. So whatever she doesn’t want to say, not telling me in order to save me is useless.

I am unsavable—unsalvageable.

“Who is she, Ophelia?”

Ophelia nods her head once. “She was a dancer down at Sal’s.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I mutter.

“She didn’t lie about anything that I know. She and Brew have been off and on that long. I don’t think it was anything serious. Seeing him with you, the way he looks at you, it’s not the way he has ever been that I know of.”

That should comfort me, but it doesn’t. He kept this from me. I didn’t ask him specifically if he was with anyone, but I did make it clear that I wanted it to be just the two of us. And he did not disclose an ex-stripper at home waiting for him. A woman he’s taking care of in more ways than one.

That should have been said to me, some kind of warning. Something. Instead, I look like a completely foolish ass.

“I see,” I whisper. “Well, at least she’s not a liar.”

brEW

My phone rings, and instead of ignoring it the way I want to, I answer it. I only do because it’s Guts, and he’s called me half a dozen times and texted. All of those I ignored, but I’m not partying now. Instead, I just have a massive hangover.

“It better be a fucking emergency,” I grind out.

“Spencer has found out about Jasmine.”

His words come out deadpan. My heart stops in my chest. I hadn’t counted on Spencer ever finding out about Jasmine. In fact, I was hoping the woman would just vanish.

Although I know she’s not one who would ever do that. I was just hoping I could have had a little longer to fix the situation before it became a situation. Now it’s a goddamn tsunami, and I’m stuck in goddamn Virginia and can’t defuse the situation at all.

“Great,” I grind out.

“She doesn’t know everything, but what she knows is enough. She’s relocated to the motel. Right now, she’s inside talking to Ophelia.”

I’d like to think that talking to Ophelia will help my case, but I’m pretty sure it fucking won’t. There is a knock on my own hotel room door, and I let out a grunt as I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand.

“Keep her from leaving. I’ll deal with the rest,” I bark into the phone.

“And Jasmine?” Guts asks.

Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around the knob of the door and tug it open. King and Atomic are standing on the other side, both giving me the same barely-contained smirks. I know it’s because I’m bare-assed naked.

Jerking my chin, I turn around and walk back into my room. They come inside, closing the door behind them, waiting for me to finish my conversation.

“Keep an eye on her. Intercept her if she tries to get at Spencer again. Fuck,” I hiss. “Hopefully, we’ll be back soon.”

Guts agrees to do what I’ve asked, and I end the call. Grabbing my jeans from the floor, I pull them up my legs and zip them before I spin around to face the other two men in my room, their gazes searching mine in question.

“Jasmine gave Spencer a visit, and she’s moved out of the cabin,” I announce.

Atomic grunts, but he’s the first to speak, as he usually is, seeing as he’s my brother. “You haven’t told Spencer about her, I take it?”

“What am I supposed to say?” I ask.

Silence greets me as the immediate answer to my question. Then Atomic runs his fingers through his hair. It’s his tell, and I know he is not only uncomfortable, but he’s going to tell me something that I don’t like.

“The truth, Brew. You need to tell her the truth. Jasmine was a stripper you knocked up.”

“She didn’t have my kid,” I growl.

Atomic snorts. “She may not have, but she was pregnant with your kid. There is a bond there, and you lost a child together. A second bond. Spencer needs to know, especially since Jasmine has your balls in her hands.”

“She doesn’t,” I grind out. “We aren’t even serious. She does her shit, and I do mine.”

This time, instead of letting out a snort, he bursts out laughing. “I love you, Evan, but you are full of shit,” he says, using my first name. “That woman owns you. It’s been ten years, and you fuck her and pay her. Why, if she doesn’t have your balls in her hands?”

He’s right.

I’ve kept Jasmine out of my mind, pushed her away as far as I can to the depths of my thoughts, but my brother is correct. This woman has my balls. It’s not out of anything other than pity and sympathy. I hate that she lost a child. I equally hate that I lost one as well. Our baby would have been around nine right now.

Maybe because I’m a man, I shouldn’t think about those things, but I can’t help it. I may have never imagined myself with a woman of my own, having an old lady, or any of that shit. But I imagined having a baby. A son . Maybe even two or three… fuck, maybe a whole houseful.

And now that Spencer is in my bed, I want them with her. I want a whole household of wild boys who have her blonde hair, who have her determination, who have her fierce loyalty. Who are as tough as I am and also as soft as she is at the same time.

“I guess it’s time to cut that string,” I mutter.

“Snip fucking snip,” King says with a chuckle. “And tell your woman the truth because there is no way you’re getting out of any of this shit with half-truths.”

He’s right. I’m not. So I dip my chin in a nod, then make my way into the bathroom to take a quick shower.

I can hear them chuckle behind me. I know they aren’t laughing at me, but rather my situation, and I have to admit that if the tables were turned, I would be laughing my ass off right now.

Because the situation that I’m in, I put myself in it years ago. And I allowed it to go from bad to worse, to snowball into what it is today. Jasmine obviously believes that she has more power than she actually does when it comes to me. She also imagines that we’re together in some capacity.

That shit stops now.