“You did what you had to do to protect your sister,” I say.
“Yeah, and ever since I brought her here, I fear I made things worse off for her. Fucking Munsey and Dash both act like they’re head over heels in love with her ever since she cooked last night. Mason even mentioned that it’s been nice having her around to help Doc. Shit, Bishop isn’t being his usual moody ass and wasn’t even pissed that she ate his damn pizza! I don’t trust any of these fuckers with her, and the last thing I want is for my sister to be an ol’ lady, or worse, end up a damn patch pussy.”
“Hey, Skylar is never going to become a patch pussy,” I assure him. “She’s too good for that, and you know it.”
He sighs. “I know I’ve asked you before, but I’m asking again. Will you keep an eye on her? I need to get to the bottom of this bullshit with my dad, and I need to know she’s being taken care of.”
“Always.”
“Thanks, man. You know, you’re like a damn brother to me,” Hunter admits and pats my shoulder before heading inside.
I get on my bike and go for a ride, again trying to clear my head. By the time I get back to the clubhouse, a party is in full swing, which is not unusual for a Friday night. Patch pussies are all over the place, legs spread on the pool table, dancing on the damn bar. You can’t look around the club without seeing tits and ass. I would normally love this scene.
It crosses my mind that I could take one or two of the patch pussies to my room, destress a little with a good fucking. Toss back some alcohol and get my dick wet. I’ve been pretending women were Skylar for years. Why should tonight be any different?
Because she’s here. She’s at the clubhouse, within reach, and fucking another woman simply isn’t something I can do while knowing that.
I ignore the raucous laughter and go straight to my room. I strip down to my boxers, crank some tunes up on my phone to drown out the outside noise, and I crash.
When I wake up in the morning, the battery on my phone is dead, and the clubhouse is dead quiet. I get up and get dressed, deciding to go out to the living area to see what type of damage was done last night.
A couple of patch pussies are passed out on the bar, one on the pool table. Munsey has his pants around his ankles, his limp dick on display, and the woman he was obviously with last night is passed out with her head resting on his leg, crusted cum dried on her face. Beer bottles and pizza crusts litter the floor and the evidence of a shit ton of blow on the table.
I find Dash passed out naked in the damn bathtub, an empty bottle of tequila clutched in his hands. I nudge the fucker awake, kicking him with the tip of my boot.
“Get the fuck up,” I order. “Get the place cleaned up before Skylar wakes up. Munsey can help.”
He rubs his eyes, groaning. I kick him again and he grumbles, climbing out of the bathtub.
“It’s too late for that,” Skylar says, and I turn to see her leaning against the door frame in a white tank and ripped jeans. “Last night was super fun.”
I stifle a groan. “You should’ve just stayed in your room. You didn’t have to see all that.”
“And miss out?” She laughs. “Did you know that Munsey’s favorite position is reverse cowgirl? Oh, and Bishop likes to snort coke off the patch pussies’ backs when he’s fucking them. What else did I learn last night? Oh yeah, Mason completely shaves his, you know, area. No hair whatsoever. The ladies love to talk. Wait, you call them patch pussies, right? Now that they know I’m completely off-limits, they aren’t total bitches to me.”
With a roll of her eyes, she saunters off, and I can barely keep my eyes off of her ass in the tight jeans she’s wearing. Did she rip them like that on purpose? Reminding myself to focus, I forget Dash, who has collapsed on the floor and follow Skylar with my fucking mouth watering.
“Hunter tried to get you out before you saw that side of us,” I let her know, regaining my composure.
“Us?” she asks, turning around to face me. “That’s the way you act, too? How you treat women? Why am I not at all surprised…”
I don’t answer her, unable to admit out loud that I’ve been exactly where Munsey is. I’ve done the things Bishop does. I’ve been so fucked up and out of my mind that I couldn’t tell you the name of the girl I was fucking, nor the woman whose pussy she was eating.
Club life is alluring, fucking intoxicating, and I’ve given in to my fair share of the temptation. She would never understand that I needed that escape to forget about her. Even in my own head, it sounds like a bullshit excuse, so I sure as fuck won’t say it out loud.
“I guess you can get back to normal now that I’m leaving. I’m sorry if I’ve been holding you back.”
“Skylar, I…” I begin, walking over to her and taking her hand. “I’m not like that anymore.”
“Right,” she says, pulling her hand away. “And exactly when did you stop acting like that? A year ago? A month? Two days ago? Did you think I would come here and be your new patch pussy?”
I grab her hand again and snatch her to me. “You are so much more than that.”
“Watch it, Jake,” she warns, jerking away from me. “One of the Bastards might see us breaking the rules.”
Fuck me. I can’t argue with her when I know she’s fucking right. I stand there, biting my damn tongue as she walks out.
The tension between Jake and me is so thick you could cut it with a damn knife. It’s stifling and suffocating, and I would give almost anything to simply avoid him, but that isn’t happening. Apparently, Hunter asked him to help move my stuff today. It only took one truckload since the furniture was in my dad’s name, and I couldn’t bring it with me, but riding shotgun between Hunter and Jake is agony.
It reminds me of how we would ride like this in Hunter’s old Ford truck, sneaking some of Dad’s beer and cruising down to the trestle under the railroad tracks to drink it while we watched the train go by.
We would sit on the back of that old truck with a blanket and a cooler of my dad’s beer, getting tipsy, and then we’d skip rocks in the water. Each of us would tell our fantasy stories of how we would eventually get out of that town, embellishing more and more as the night went on before we’d finally sneak back home.
Now, as we ride, Hunter is oblivious to what’s happening between Jake and me. At how the simple brush of his hand against mine has my breath catching but also has my nostrils flaring in annoyance. At the way I nudge my knee against his when I change the radio station from a song that reminds me of him, and the jerk changes it back to be a total prick.
Yeah, Hunter is oblivious to our futile attempts at fighting our attraction to each other, but I doubt he would ever think his best friend would hook up with his little sister.
“It’s gated?” I ask as he enters a code to open the gate to a large apartment complex.
“Yeah,” he answers. “The code is 5623.”
He finds an empty parking space and gets out first. Jake hesitates opening the door, his hand propped on the handle.
“I don’t want you to keep being pissed at me about stupid shit from our past or what I did after I left,” he tells me. “I can’t change it. Besides, I highly doubt I’m the only guy you’ve been with.”