Page 4 of Filthy Secret

I should have asked her for more detailed information. As she drove away, I thought about chasing her but decided against it. Now, it’s been a few weeks, and my regret for not stopping her from walking away consumes me.

I’ve vanished from the club, ignoring my duties while drinking myself into a goddamn stupor in my cabin. I should just sell this fucking place and be done. It’s pointless. I don’t even come up here often enough to warrant paying the property taxes on it.

Nobody in the club knows where this place is except for Brew. He’s the only person, and only because he’s my biological brother. If he weren’t and I didn’t need him to know for emergencies, he wouldn’t.

But because he knows where my cabin is, he’s the one who finds me drunk off my ass, passed the fuck out on my ratty sofa, and listening to sad rock music.

I don’t realize he’s here when he approaches me. Until I feel the cold water being dumped onto my face. My entire body jumps before my eyes open, and I register what’s happened. I’m soaking fucking wet as I sit up and look across from me.

Brew is sitting in a chair, his eyes on mine, his face turned into a frown.

“What the fuck?” I slur. “I could have shot your ass.”

He smirks, letting out a snort. “How?” he asks as he holds up a black, gleaming handgun.

Reaching for my waist holster, I hiss when I realize my piece is not there. “Fuck,” I bark.

He got me.

Or maybe I did this shit to myself. It’s not like I’m anywhere near sober or have been for days.

“Talk to me, brother to brother. Tell me what the fuck is going on,” Brew urges. “Club shit aside, tell me what the fuck is going on with Ryan. She came back, but then she’s gone, and you’re off your fucking shit all over again like it’s six years ago.”

“She fucks me up,” I snap.

“No fucking shit. She’s your bitch. Of course, she fucks you up. They always do.”

Shaking my head, I run my fingers through my wet hair. I can’t stop wondering if I should go shower and clean up a bit. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, but as I scan the room, I start counting bottles of whiskey and realize I’ve probably lost more time than I realized.

“King and I got the club taken care of. We got this. You know we do. But you have to come back to us. You’re our president, and you’re my brother. You got too much good going on to let this end you.”

“You sound like a fucking pussy,” I grumble.

He chuckles. “Yeah, well, I’ve been by your side since you were born… literally. I can’t lose you to this shit.”

My brother is one year older than me. My parents were busy when they had us and then realized their mistake. Two boys under one roof was a goddamn wild situation.

We were wild.

Unhinged and complete fucking club brats. It was the best childhood anyone could ever have had. And there are times when I wish I could go back and do it all over again.

“Ryan wanted my help. I told her no.”

“Why?” he asks.

I shrug a shoulder, but he knows the answer. “She’s not my old lady. She knew she lost my and the club’s protection when she walked away from me. I’m not sure why she thought I would do a fucking thing for her.”

Brew nods his head, his eyes searching mine before he places his hands on the arms of the chair and pushes himself to stand. He turns his back to me and walks over to the window. As he stares out at the piney woods that surround the cabin, he lets out a heavy sigh.

One hundred and fifty-five acres with a one-room cabin in the middle of the piney woods. It’s fucking perfect. And I dreamed of one day building a dream home and raising my children out here, children with Ryan, but that dream is long fucking gone.

So, fuck the dream home because there’s no dream, and I’m happy coming out here when I need to get away. Like now. But as I stare at my brother’s back, I wonder if I am exactly what he said I was—a pussy.

I know I am.

Inhaling a deep breath, I also force myself to stand, turning away from him. I make my way to the kitchen, which is about four steps, and tug open the fridge before reaching for a bottle of water.

After downing half of the contents of the bottle in one gulp, I spin around to face Brew. Slowly, he turns to look at me, his eyes finding mine. He clears his throat, then he speaks.