Page 41 of Porter (Dirty Misfits MC 2)
I grinned. “Raven tell you that, too?”
Raven yelled from the background. “I told him a lot, thank you very much!”
I barked with laughter and even Brooks chuckled a bit.
“She’s a good woman,” I said.
“I know.”
“And so is your sister.”
He sighed. “I know that, too.”
“Then, why in the world don’t you treat her better, man? I mean, you shoved her to the ground.”
And to my surprise, he sniffled. “I can’t believe I put my hands on my little sister.”
I gave him some space to sniffle away his tears before I cleared my throat. “You know what I think, though?”
He cleared his throat in kind. “What’s that?”
“I think that Chops had way too much of a smirk on his face when I left to go after Astrid. I think he’s happy we’re all fighting, and I think we should at least keep up the facade that we still are.”
He paused. “I think you’re right on that one. Let him keep thinking we’re fighting and at odds. It’ll make him feel like he’s got the upper hand—”
“—and that means he’s more likely to start getting sloppy.”
He sighed. “You’re a manipulative bastard, you know that?”
I chuckled. “Not like Finn. Finn could psychologically break down gods if you let him.”
“But trust me when I tell you that if I ever find out you’re hurting or manipulating my sister in any way, I’ll gladly to back to prison for murder.”
A car pulled up in the driveway. “I think she’s back.”
“Did you hear me?”
I nodded. “Yes, I heard you. And I promise you I’m never going to hurt her.”
“None of us are done talking about this. But I’m good with keeping some distance until cooler heads prevail.”
“And until then, I keep guarding your sister?”
Her footsteps came up to the porch as Brooks groaned.
“Yeah, yeah. You can keep protecting her,” he said. “But don’t get distracted. Don’t let her distract you from what’s happening around us.”
Good enough for me. “Trust me, if anything, keeping her safe from all that bullshit will keep me focused.”
“Anyway, we’ll talk more later.”
I nodded. “Talk soon, man. And thanks.”
He scoffed. “Don’t thank me yet.”
I smirked as I hung up the phone, and the second the door opened, I braced myself for her beauty. Only, Astrid wasn’t the one that came through the doorway.
“Josie?” I asked.
She eyed me up and down. “Wow, Porter. You grew up.”
I peered out the window. “Where’s Astrid?”
“She wanted me to come over and tell you that she’s going to be hanging out with me tonight. She’ll come by your place in the morning, but she doesn’t know where you live so she sent me to retrieve your address.”
I blinked. “She sent you to retrieve it.”
“Yep.”
“Because she doesn’t want to see me?”
She sighed. “Because she’s still angry. And I told her that until she could calm down, talking isn’t going to solve anything.”
My heart sank to my toes. “Yeah, hand me your phone. I’ll give you my info.”
And after typing my number as well as my address into her phone, I told her to lock the door behind her and I headed back to my bike.
Before blazing a fiery trail home.
Everything happened in such a blur that I didn’t process it until the burn rushed down the back of my throat. I didn’t remember the ride home or storming through my door. I didn’t remember the knob of the door punching a hole into the wall, or my neighbors above me yelling at me to keep it down. I didn’t register anything until the staunch, powerful scent of booze wafted up my nostrils as I chugged it.
And chugged it.
And chugged it.
Until the bottle was empty the burn so great that I justified my tears of hurt as tears of pain.
“Oh, yeah. Missed ya, buddy,” I growled.
I tossed the empty beer can into the sink and gathered the rest of the alcohol out my fridge. I set seven cans of beer and two wine coolers on the counter before pulling out half a bottle of tequila, a full bottle of bourbon, and a barely-there bottle of scotch out of the freezer. I’d been fighting the craving and the need for so long, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I wasn't sure if I’d ever get Astrid back. For all I knew, my friendship with Brooks would end over all of this. And if that was the case, I’d have to take a leave of absence from the crew just to screw my head back on straight.
Everything was fucked up, and I wanted to be, too.
Here we go.
I cranked open another beer and chugged. The foam poured over the edges of my mouth and ran down my throat, comforting me in the familiar warmth my gut had missed. I tore through all of them before cracking open the last of the scotch and shaking the bottle into my mouth. I uncorked the tequila and rummaged around for limes. But when I couldn’t find any, I decided to take the last of the orange juice I had, pour it into the tequila bottle, and shake.
