Page 36 of Porter (Dirty Misfits MC 2)
She scoffed. “What? You gonna throw out your sister because you don’t like who she’s with? I’d fight you on it, but it’s pretty on-brand with you right now—tossing away family because all you want to be is in control.”
And when Brooks didn’t respond, I knew we’d finally hit the bottom of the issue.
Astrid caught it, too. “That’s what this is about, right? Our lives spun so effortlessly out of control as kids that now you have to have a stronghold on everything around you? And everyone? You couldn't help Mom and you couldn’t bring back Dad, so you leave it all in the dust and control what and who’s around you, no matter what it does to your relationship with them? You want control over your life so badly that you’re willing to implode it just to get it? Is that what you’ve become? Just some weak-ass little man who needs to feel powerful through manipulating others?”
The words hung so heavily in the air that they almost choked me. The silence was damn near deafening, and the pointed way Astrid had with words robbed me of my breath. I mean, I knew how to string a sentence together when I was passionate about something. But she was on a completely different level.
I wonder if she writes her own material, too.
I wasn’t sure what went on in Brooks’ mind because I’d never seen him walk away from an issue that wasn’t resolved. But in that moment, he became Chops. He shot me one more glare before he walked toward his bike, his shoulders hunched and blood dripping down his fingertips.
“I could stitch you up, man!” Cole called out.
I rolled my eyes before I turned back to Astrid. “You okay?”
But the tears rolling down her neck gave me my answer.
“He’ll come back around,” I said as I walked over to her, “he just needs some time.”
She snickered. “Ever the loyal dog, huh?”
I paused. “What?”
She took a step away from me. “After everything he said and did, and you’re still willing to stick up for him after he’s shat on you. Really, Porter?”
I shook my head. “I’m just trying to keep spirits—”
She waved her hand in the air. “Tell it to someone who cares.”
I felt like shit as I watched her walk back to her car. I watched as she got in, drove away, and rode off into the horizon. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber filled the air as Brooks got onto his bike and skidded out of the parking lot, heading in the exact opposite direction as his sister.
I hated that I had done this to my best friend.
I hated that I had done this to his sister.
And I hated that Brooks was in a dark hole I couldn’t pull him out of.
He helped you, and you can’t even help him. What kind of friend are you?
“Seriously, everyone inside. You’re all going to get infections at this rate,” Cole said curtly.
But I didn’t follow anyone back inside. All I did was mull over what happened as I stood helplessly in the parking lot, struggling with what to do.
Did I go after my best friend—who was essentially my brother—and try to patch things up? Or did I go after the woman I loved?
Why the hell do I have to choose in the first place?
Eighteen
Astrid
I slammed my front door behind me. “That absolute fucking NUTJOB!”
I tore into the kitchen and picked up a mug from the table. “Why does he always do this to me!?”
I threw it against the wall and watched it shatter. “I fucking hate you, Brooks!”
“No, you really don’t.”
The sound of Porter’s voice caught me so off-guard that I screamed. I shrieked and I whipped around before my voice gave out completely. One second, I was alerting the entire city as to what just happened. And the next second, I couldn’t speak above a harsh whisper.
So, I walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
I tossed a bottle of water to Porter, but all it did was fall to the floor. The man didn’t even move to catch it, and that caught my attention.
“You okay?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed. “Does it look like I’m okay?”
I sighed, closing the refrigerator. “Look, I know things get heated between my brother and me. But—”
“He shoved you to the ground.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, he did.”
He finally moved to pick up his water bottle. “Take a few swigs. Get your voice back.”
I opened the bottle and started chugging. I gulped it down so quickly that I didn’t even register the sand I swallowed with it. It felt gritty going down the back of my throat. It burned and scraped its way down my most sensitive of skins, reminding me of what really happened.
Reminding me that my brother physically shoved me to the ground.
