Page 21 of Penn

She laughs. “But you won’t tell me what those terrible things are, will you?”

“Can’t. Sorry. It’s like Fight Club. The first rule is that you don’t talk about it.”

This earns me another giggle, and I feel like I could walk on water. “That’s kind of a bastardization of the quote.”

“You got the point, so what does it matter?” I ask. “And sometimes you need to have everything fall apart before you can rebuild something even better. To get rid of your old life and embrace the new one.”

“I wish I believed that,” Dixie whispers.

“Well, I believe it, and we both know my confidence is enough for at least three people. So I believe it for more than just us. Probably five people, at least.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I have rarely met a more confident man… when it comes to things he knows he can’t have.”

“What can I say? I am who I am,” I say. “Now, close your eyes.”

She doesn’t argue this time, and her lids flutter shut. Her breathing evens out by the time I release her hand, and I just stay there, crouched, watching her.

I need to figure out how to make her see she deserves only the good things in life. Because she does. No matter what kind of hell she’s lived through to believe otherwise.

Chapter 9

Dixie

I’ve been living in Penn’s guest room for a few months now, and I’m slowly beginning to feel like there’s permanence in my situation. Well, temporary permanence. It’s all just temporary, after all.

The bar is relatively quiet for a Thursday night, and the wind has picked up outside. Penn’s away on a run, and I worry about him on his bike in this wind. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, but I can’t imagine inclement weather makes it easy to ride.

Before he left, he’d told me to stay put and let his brothers look out for me. Then he kissed my forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world. Something he does before leaving on every run, and I still don’t know what to think about it.

Even now, as I stand wiping the same spot on the counter that isn’t really that dirty, I feel the kiss on my forehead. His warm lips on my skin. The way his short beard felt brushing against my skin. The warm hand on the back of my head as he pulled us together.

It’s making me second-guess every single defense mechanism.

“You’re going to wear a hole through the counter if you keep that up,” Lainey says, leaning onto the counter with her elbows.

She stands there chewing gum in the way I hate. The way she knows I hate and still does it anyway. And it’s peppermint, not spearmint, which makes my stomach churn a bit.

There’s a knowing smirk that appears as she tracks my movements with her eyes. The sharp, knowing look she always gets when she thinks she’s figured someone out.

I stop, realizing I’m not really helping myself if I continue to do what she just called me out on. If anything, it gives her a reason to believe whatever crazy idea she already has. And considering she’s fucking the son of her father’s rival club, I’d say Lainey’s the craziest person alive.

“Just trying to keep busy. If I sit still for too long, my brain starts running laps.”

“Penn?”

“What?” I say, giving a very unconvincing laugh that even makes me cringe internally. “I’m pregnant, homeless, and a bartender. I have a thousand things on my mind at any given time.”

Smacking her gum, she narrows her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

“Lainey, I’m serious.”

“He’s been gone thirty-six hours, and you already look like a ghost. It’s how you always look when he’s gone, by the way. That pining gaze.”

I feel a hot flush creep up my neck, and I turn my back to her, reaching for a new bottle of vodka to replace the nearly empty one under the bar. “I’m not pining. I’m pregnant, tired, and my house is a pile of ashes. I have more to worry about than a six-foot biker with too many tattoos.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that,” she says, smacking her gum again and making me want to smack her.

“You chew that gum like a cow, you know that, right?” I snap.