The Possibility of Trey (24 page)

By trying to separate my Trey from his lifestyle, I'd only been lying to myself. Hiding my oh-so-careful head in the damn sand.

Two blocks away, I implemented my first step away by calling Mr. Kettering's office voice mail to detail I was taking my accrued vacation and sick time, effective immediately. I told him I wouldn't be in for a while and that I was sorry but I had family business to take care of that had to be done right away. With what Trey had listed for me, I'd checked with Rita and found I had almost ten weeks of time-off available. Two and a half months.

Would that be long enough for things to blow over, to get him out of my heart and my life? I wasn't going to quit. Not with all the time I had invested, nor could I give up the good pay and unbelievable benefits HC offered.

I drove another few blocks and figured out step number two before pulling over to call my mom's doctor. Citing our recent attacks at the house, I told him that we needed my mother released that night, not the next day as he'd planned. It took some convincing, but something in my shaky voice must have swayed him because he said he'd take care of it without delay.

So far so good
, I thought with what little of my mind that wasn't still caught up in the vision of Trey with another girl. Of him kissing and fondling one of the parrots. It was on continuous loop in my brain, one image after another and with every mental picture another piece of me died or shattered into such small pieces I could've called them dust.

I don't remember the remaining drive to the hospital, but I was in its parking lot when the second concussion slammed into me. Arriving so fierce and strong, I had to press my both hands to my chest and found myself hunched over from the pain. As it finally began to back off, again with a powerful undertow, I had only seconds to wrench my truck door open in order to lose the contents of my stomach. I cleaned myself up as best I could but there was no way to put color back in my cheeks or to take the haunted look out of the eyes I saw staring back at me in the visor's mirror. I did, however, have the presence of mind to move my truck into another parking space.

I knew my folks would see it straight away. And, even if they didn't, they'd feel the emotions that surrounded me. The swirling mass that coated my outsides in such a way it pushed other people from my trajectory as I went to my mom's room.

"What's wrong, Lally?" my mother cried as soon as I cleared her door. "The doctor said I'm being released tonight instead of tomorrow."

"Did something else happen?" my dad pressed.

"No, it's all good. I just thought I'd get us settled tonight is all and the doctor agreed."

I turned my face away from my mom's questing gaze and began to pack her stuff in one of the bags. When that was done, I got dad's stuff together which kept me busy until we got her signed out and had her new meds. It wasn't until I was pulling out of the parking lot that the questions started again.

"This isn't the way to our house." Mom's eyes flew to both side windows. "Aren't we going home?"

"Now, Mary. I explained about the house. We can't go there yet. I'm sure Trey and Dallas have someplace else for us." I felt my stomach clench at my dad's assurance and at the sound of Trey's name, wondering if I was going to have to pull over and lose the battle with my stomach one more time.

"We're going to that place on the north side, the one with the little efficiency apartments," I explained, working to keep my voice calm and steady. Because I wanted to scream, to yell and to bellow at the top of my goddamn lungs. I was clamoring to throw punches, kicks even as my body demanded I run as far and for as long as my legs would hold up.

Most of all, I wanted to do the girlie thing and cry my fucking eyes out.

But I didn't have time for any of that.

There was too much to do.

We were in luck and were able to get two rooms side by side. The swarmy guy at the desk gave me a discount for paying for two weeks in advance. I paid extra to have housekeeping service twice a week.

The apartments were clean and had small kitchenettes that I knew would work for us. I got my folks settled in their room before I went to mine to begin my lists. Lists of where to go and what to buy to see us through. Lists of how to hide and stay hidden. Lists that included doodles of knives, lightning bolts and headstones.

It was after eleven when I finally got back to my room after running the errands that couldn't be put off until the next day. I put all the groceries in my unit, knowing I'd divide them between our rooms in the morning. Turning the TV on low, I took my time putting my second set of new clothes and toiletries away. I took a long hot shower while our new pay-as-you-go phones charged and even painted my toenails a deep forest green.

But I was really waiting for the next concussion to hit.

I could feel it building but moving around, staying busy seemed to keep it at bay. So I kept doing little things. Things like getting completely dressed and moving my truck out of sight around the back of the building. And going through my contact list and transferring it to my new phone with the exception of one name.

Then I went back to my handwritten lists.

As the sun was just beginning to show through the cracks of the vertical blinds, I felt the third explosion hit. Maybe it was because I'd staved it off for so long or because I was so fucking tired, but it was the worst of all.

So bad it was almost as if the other two hadn't happened. Lucky for me, they had because that meant there was nothing left inside me to destroy.

Leaving nothing but the wet deep runnels of grief for the possibility I'd almost been able to have.

TM:
When u'll be home? Cant w8 2 cu.

Trey put his cellphone down on the bar and picked up his glass, knowing she'd respond quickly. Dallas was good like that and only kept him waiting if she was busy. And even then she'd apologize for the delay.

"Trey." Silo pulled up a stool on his left as Brand took the one on his right.

"What's doing, brothers?" Trey signaled to Jilly for a refill.

"Saw your little reunion with Bambi earlier," Si said slowly, not looking Trey's way.

"Yeah, she's back and wanted to say hello."

"Looked like a pretty fucking welcoming hello," Brand drawled, his eyes trained on the bottles behind the bar. "By
both
participants."

"I caught that too, brother. How the greeting wasn't of the one-sided variety." Silo took a mouthful of his beer.

"What'd you bitches do, stand there and watch?" Trey laughed as he glanced at the men on either side of him.

"Kind of. Mostly my eyes were on Sheridan to see
her
reaction to the reunion," Brand's voice had turned, sounding dark.

Trey's hand halted before it could bring the glass to his mouth.

"Thought we were gonna have to catch hold of her at that shaky first step she took. She looked like she was fucking gonna collapse. Just kind of crumbled in on herself," Si's deep voice was now a dirty growl.

Wait…what? Trey turned to look at each man in turn. They couldn't be serious.

"But it was Rita's explanation that really nailed it, in my opinion," Brand continued.

"Rita?" Trey's own voice was a weak croak as he processed what his brothers were saying and their stern, unforgiving faces.

"Yeah. She gave your girl the ole 'bikers will be bikers' speech. You know the one. How fuckin' other girls is like scratching an itch and how you probably just had a need for another flavor." Si finally looked directly at Trey and the look in the bald man's eyes was chilling only adding to the ice that had begun to run in Trey's veins.

"She saw?"

"Yes. She did. And we witnessed the exact moment Sheridan's heart was torn from her." Brand finally looked directly at his leader and friend.

Dallas fucking saw
, his mind echoed the words, each syllable a knife in his gut.

"Damn, who died?" Dare asked when he stood next to the small group.

"Bambi was saying hello to Trey and Sheridan got to see the whole thing." Si's explanation was brief and to the point.

"Fuuuck," Dare drawled. "That's a harsh way to scrape a woman off, even for you, Trey. Couldn't you have just said, 'it was fuckin' fun but goodbye' or some shit?"

"And as me 'n' Brand were pointing out, Sheridan ain't a Honey. Doesn't know the 4-1-1 but was getting it from Rita," Silo continued as if Dare hadn't spoken.

Brand's empty glass slammed against the bar. "I am going home. Home to make sweet love to my beautiful wife and to assure her I have no want or need for anyone else." After a long condemning stare in Trey's direction, the big man left, his boots loud even in the noisy clubhouse.

Dare slid onto the stool Brand had vacated and lifted his fingers to Jilly all the while shaking his head.

"Okay, who kicked whose dog?" Bishop said, moving around the end of the bar to help himself to a drink. His eyes roamed over the three gloomy faces.

Dare filled him in and Bishop's face went red as he got loud. "Are you
fucking
kidding me? Nobody is
that
fucking stupid."

"Trey was," Silo intoned with finality and a decisive head nod.

"Not another fucking word, brothers," Trey warned, holding up a hand. "She's reasonable. I'll just explain and it'll all be good."

"My ass, Trey! My. Fucking. Ass!" Bishop continued to shout.

"She was my best, man. The fucking best outta all my goddamn guys and you had to fuck it up!" Silo's rumble while equaling Bishop's in volume also accused.

"Wow, Prez. Go big or go home ain't just a fucking phrase for you, is it?" Dare was still shaking his head in disbelief.

None of them were affected in the least by Trey's glare.

"I call dibs!" Bishop yelled.

"You can't call fucking dibs. She ain't even here. And besides, what makes you think she'd have shit-all to do with you?" Dare added with a smirk as a twist to his challenge.

"Because while I'm not Trey, I
do
have a certain charm when it comes to the ladies," Bishop shot back, his own sneer appearing. "And at least I know how to treat fucking civilians, unlike some of the other ass-clowns in this room!"

"As her boss, I can't get in on it but I'd be willing to change jobs for a chance at that," Silo offered.

"Told you fuckers to fucking shut it!" Trey tried to growl but his lips were so stiff it came out as more of a mumble. "I'll just call her and tell her how it went down…"

"Uh-uh." Bishop cut Trey's plan off at the knees. "For someone like Sheridan, you don't fucking
call
them. That is if she'll even take your weak-assed phone call. You man up and talk to her face-to-face. Take whatever she dishes out and say 'I'm sorry' a lot. A
fucking
lot, you dig?"

Trey nodded but couldn't seem to get his body to move towards the door. "C'mon, it wasn't like we were fucking. I mean, I could've dragged Bambi to one of the rooms but I didn't. I brought her inside the clubhouse, gave her a smack on her ass and she went on to greet some other brothers."

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, Trey, if it makes you feel better." Silo's advice was given with more than a measure of doubt that Trey's take on the situation would be accepted. "Try sinking your dick into
that
particular justification the next time it gets hard."

"That's it? That's what you fucking came up with?" Dare deepened his voice. "Uh, yeah, babe. I could've fucked her but I didn't. Ain't I a good fucking guy?"

"He did fucking
what
? And Lally fucking
saw
?" There was no missing the roar from the kid in the kitchen. Both Dare and Bishop shot behind the swinging doors and into the kitchen before Silo had even pulled Trey all the way off the barstool. Everyone knew while Drake had made great progress in turning his attitude around, all it would take is for one small thing to set him back.

"Time for you to getcha ass on your bike, brother," Silo explained, yanking his president towards the exit. "I want you to getcha bad-ass self to wherever she fucking is and do goddamn damage control. Not because I think you fucking deserve it but because
she
does. You wanna be an asshole and end it? Cool. But you goddamn do it the right fucking way. You get me?"

Trey mounted his bike as Silo stormed back into the clubhouse, the sounds of Drake's shouts coming clear and sharp as the door opened.

God, what a fuck up!

He checked his phone and was no longer surprised there wasn't a responding text message. Pulling up her number, he tried calling but it went straight to voicemail.

Only one thing to do, then
, he told himself with a sigh that only hinted at the heaviness inside as he pulled out the driveway and headed towards the hospital.