Page 81 of Filthy Secret

It’s been a week, a whole week, since I’ve seen Grover, and I’ve come to the realization that it’s really over. The only thing he has done is texted me. He’s asked me if he can come over to see and stay with Adam Friday afternoon. He wants to stay with him for the weekend at my house, well, his house. I don’t know how to classify it because he pays for everything, but I live here.

Grover has offered me his room at the clubhouse to stay while he does this. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Not for any other reason than I don’t think I want to stay at the clubhouse again, ever.

It seems like almost every time I spend the night there, something traumatizing happens to me. Maybe in the beginning, it wasn’t that way, but when it comes to the Dark Horse MC clubhouse, the bad experiences overshadow the good.

Grover is Adam’s father, and I want him to spend time with him. And I certainly don’t want Adam at the clubhouse any more than is necessary, so it’s a good alternative. I just don’t like it for me.

Staring at the text—I have left it on read for about two days—I bite the corner of my lip. I need to respond. I know I do, but I’m not sure of what to say. I could respond a million different ways, but I don’t want to cause drama or a fight. I also don’t want to stay at that clubhouse.

Maybe I can beg Shawn to let me work at her bakery for as many hours as she’ll allow. I am willing to work long hours because they’ll be the best hours ever. They will be a distraction, and I’ll be away from my house and the clubhouse. Plus, it will keep my mind busy and off the only thing I’ve been able to think about lately.

Grover.

Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it as I finally type out my text to Grover.

Sounds good. I will see you Friday after Adam returns from school.

Since Golden Joker is no longer a threat, I decided it was time to complete the enrollment of first grade for Adam. He loves school, so it wasn’t a chore to do it at all. He’s been more than happy to run up to the front door every single day since he started.

I stare at my phone, waiting for him to respond to me. I don’t know why I expect him to respond immediately. It’s not like I did. Then I see those telltale three little dots appear, disappear, then appear again. I’m not sure what he’s typing, but he’s either typing and deleting or writing me a novella.

GROVER: OKAY.

Okay.

Okay.

What the hell does okay mean?

Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times. I start to type back to him, but I don’t know what to say. So, instead of making a fool out of myself, I go to Shawn’s name in my contact list and write her a text, asking her if I can come in early and stay late this weekend.

SHAWN: Sure. However long you want to be there, but why?

Instead of holding anything back, I tell her the truth. She’s the only person I know here and has become my confidant. Maybe I’m being stupid by becoming friends with her because I know if push ever comes to shove, she will always choose King and the Dark Horse club over me.

Always.

And I would never blame her for that or hold it against her. In fact, I would question her if she didn’t. I don’t type any of that, though. I tell her the truth but with as little detail as possible.

ATOMIC WANTS TO STAY WITH ADAM AT THE HOUSE THIS WEEKEND. HE OFFERED ME HIS ROOM AT THE CLUB. I’D LIKE TO STAY BUSY.

I’m not sure how she’s going to react to that, but in true Shawn fashion, she sends me an emoji with a happy face and three little hearts surrounding it. I know it’s sent in support. I’m grateful to her, even if I know that our relationship has an end date.

As soon as everything between me and Grover has completely settled and our life is established, we won’t continue texting and talking. And once I find a job somewhere else other than the bakery, we probably won’t talk or see one another at all unless it’s in town shopping or something. She’ll just be that girl I used to know.

Like Grover.

Someone that I used to know.

That makes me sad, but it’s the truth. Something I’ve decided to work on with myself is to be a bit more realistic, not only with my expectations but also with the world around me. So I know that I’ll be someone, at some point, that everyone at the club used to know… again.

My phone buzzes. Looking at the screen, I expect to see a text from Shawn, but that’s not who has contacted me. My heart skips a beat, and my breath hitches when I realize it’s Grover. I don’t know why. It’s not like his earlier response was anything special. It was a single word, so why does my body react this way to just seeing his name?

Sliding my thumb across the screen, I go to the messages app to read his text. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but the words I read are nothing but another blow to my heart and a punch to my gut.

GROVER: HOPING TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT NAILING DOWN A VISITATION SCHEDULE FOR THE FUTURE. AND A SOLID NUMBER FOR CHILD SUPPORT.

I want to hate him. I want to hate every ounce of him, but I don’t. He’s being really wonderful, too great for what I’ve put him through. But then again, I’ve been through things, too, a lot of things, and I’m trying the best I can. I’ve never, not once, thought that my life would turn out this way, and for all of the bad, it’s pretty great, too.