Page 161 of Property of Fang
“Then stop trying to romanticize our story,” she demands. “He’s a shit father, my mom’s dead, and I’m more an orphan than I’ve ever been. And I’m okay with that. I have to be.”
“You’re not alone, though.”
“Aren’t I?” Her arms band across herself protectively, and she looks away, evading my eye. “Darla and Kathy lost faith in me—and rightfully so. The Kid is a stranger, and I’ll never change that because what kind of hypocrite would that make me? My dad belongs six feet under, and my mom already is. The club that gives me sanctuary has run out of use for me, and the fucking patch tattooed on my father’s back ensures I’ll never be welcome anyway, despite what they might have said just now.” She tilts her head back, defiant and brave. “I’m alone, Fang. A fucking island in a red sea.”
“You didn’t mention me.” I take a step forward, and then ease her arms away from her middle. “I’m right here, Jenna. Last I understood, one plus one makes two, and two is a pair. A pair isn’t a single, and something that isn’t singular can’t be alone.”
She fights a small smile at my ramble.
“You aren’t alone.”
“But I’m not welcome, right?”
“You are,” I say gently. “For now.”
She stiffens.
“All you need to do to change that is prove to the remaining cynics that they’re wrong. Show us why you need this, where your soul rests. Explain why the picture on that mongrel’s back means nothing to you.”
“Why?” She says the word on a sigh. “Why do I have to keep fighting to defend my name when it wasn’t me who judged it?”
Little fucking woman just threw down a roadblock I have no hope of breaking through.She’s right.Why does she have to keep defending her name when it’s our prejudice that taints it?
“Am I wrong?” Jenna whispers.
I slide my hands to her hips and pull her close, resting my forehead atop hers. “No. You’re not.” I’ve got to figure out how to make the others see it that way, is all. “You’re right, Freckles. You’ve always been right.”
She sets her hands to my chest, measuring the rise and fall of my breaths.
The world continues around us, but I’m stuck in the moment with her, mind scrambling for an answer to all of this. She might have lied and done questionable things in the name of self-preservation, but she’s never been anything other than herself. As hard as that’s been to understand at times, Jenna has never willingly deceived us or created a false story.
She omitted the parts she knew would be hard to stomach.
And don’t we all do that from time to time?
Hide the parts of ourselves we know others won’t understand.
Jenna draws a deep breath before asking, “Is this going to work?”
I press a kiss to her head. “I’m not gonna let there be any other option.” I mean what I damn well said: she belongs here with me. She belongs here with all of us.
If Jenna hasn’t done enough yet to prove her loyalty toward our club, then what else will it take?
Her life?
That’s not something I’m willing to give.
“And Reno?” she tests. “Will that create more problems?”
“No more than what I’ve already had.” The woman doesn’t get a say in my happiness. And that’s what this is with Jenna—happiness. No matter how hard it’s been to reach.
I’m standing in the middle of our yard with my arms around the woman who pushed me hard enough to show me how wrong I’ve been. How ignorant. The woman who deserves more than she’s got in life, and the woman who thinks I can give her that. Stability. Love. Protection.
I can do all that.
I was always capable of doing all that.
Once I got out of my own way.
