Page 13 of Brooks (Dirty Misfits MC 1)
Don’t let that happen. Go after him.
I launched myself down the small hallway toward the front door before I paused. I saw a shadow beneath the door, and I held my breath, preparing myself for the moment. For years, I had conflicting thoughts about Brooks. For years, I wondered why he never made a move after the connection we felt that night in the bar across town where I’d first met him and Gage. I mean yes, Gage and I hit it off as well. Very well, in fact. But there was something about the way Brooks and I interacted that just… hit differently.
I wasn’t sure, even to this day, how to explain it.
It just simply was what it was.
Then, a knock finally came. Two big knocks and a slew of smaller knocks that set my heart thundering in my chest. My hands trembled as I reached out for the doorknob. I swallowed hard as the trembling fingertips from my other hand unlocked the door so I could open it.
However, when the door eased itself open, the smile quickly drained from my face.
Because it wasn’t Brooks standing on the other side of the door.
Seven
Brooks
I sat at the exit of Raven’s townhouse complex and waited for traffic to clear so I could ease myself back out onto the road. Normally, I’d blaze a trail of my own volition and give a bright, spanking-new middle finger to anyone who didn’t agree. But this time? I took my precious time. I had so many great memories in this place. Memories of picking up Gage before we went away for biker’s weekends. Memories of escorting the newly-wedded couple to and from their home while they packed up and went away on their honeymoon. Memories of toilet-papering Gage’s place the night before Halloween just to piss him off the next morning.
“Damn it, I miss my best friend,” I hissed.
After traffic finally cleared, though, I eased myself onto the road. Better to leave with the good memories than potentially make bad ones trying to force myself into a situation Raven didn’t want me in. I mean, it wasn’t like she ever responded to my letters. Or picked up the phone when I called from the prison. Or came to visit me, despite the fact that I put her name on the “welcomed people” list.
So, why the fuck was I showing up to her place anyway?
“She’s probably with someone else by now anyway,” I said with a snicker.
Not that it was important. Raven was a beautiful woman and she had lost her husband in one of the most tragic ways one could lose a husband. So, why wouldn’t she seek the comfort of another man during her time of grief? There wasn’t anything wrong with that. People did it all the time. Fucking around to get out the pain, anger, and sorrow was what we men in clubs like mine did best.
Hell, that was practically our weekly therapist appointment.
And Raven was beautiful. No, no, beyond beautiful. She was breathtaking in every way, and every time she walked into any sort of establishment, she turned the heads of single and married men alike. It used to always piss Gage off, men staring at his wife. But I always thought it was kind of funny. I always thought Gage should’ve been proud at the fact that he was about to show Raven off every chance he got, but that was neither here nor there.
The point was, the woman’s drop dead gorgeous and she probably already had someone cleaning out her pipes.
“For all I know, she’s completely forgotten about me,” I murmured to myself.
Five years could do a lot to someone. It did a lot to me. I always slept with one eye open, and I knew that trend would continue. I didn’t get along with people anymore like I once did, and I knew that trend would also continue, especially with Chops as president. I also didn’t trust people anymore, except for Porter.
So, who was to say Raven didn’t change in all sorts of ways over the years?
You made the right decision.
You know she saw you. She had it. It wasn’t like you were concealed.
The shadows had your back, bro. She didn’t see shit.
And if she did see you but you chose to leave anyway? What then? What will you tell her then?
That question gave me pause. So much pause that I didn’t realize the stoplight in front of me had changed from red to green. Some old woman behind me laid on her horn and I pulled off to the side of the road, giving myself a second to catch my breath.
Did she really see me?
Before I had a chance to answer that question myself, I heard a rumbling in the distance. I peered over my shoulder and tried to pinpoint where the noise came from, but then I felt it. I felt it beneath my feet as the tar of the street vibrated. I felt the whooshing of wind as bikes soared down the road, and it caused me to whip my head around. I watched three bikes fly past me at blazing speed, carving out a trail in traffic that caused people to blow their horns and hang out of their windows while cursing the drivers of those bikes.
