Home > Tracker's End (Wind Dragons MC #3)(41)

Tracker's End (Wind Dragons MC #3)(41)
Author: Chantal Fernando

“And I wasn’t awake when you were sucking my dick,” he continues. “I don’t even remember it, but I’m sure it felt fuckin’ good. I was in a deep sleep, babe. You can show me again now though, and I promise I won’t be thinking about anyone but you. I never do. She was only on my mind ’cause I was planning all the ways I wanted to end her.”

“I watched you with her, you know,” I say. “When we first met. It hurt, but I knew you weren’t mine, so I tried to forget.”

He smiles sadly. “I couldn’t leave you alone. Saw you and, fuck, did I want you. Anna warned me off. Rake warned me off. But fuck them. Tried to leave you alone but I couldn’t. And I don’t regret it; do you know why?”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because you’re the best thing that’s happened to me and I’m man enough to admit that.”

My heart soars with his words. Could I really be that lucky?

“We haven’t even been together that long,” I point out. Things this good usually don’t last long. Sad but honest truth.

He just smiles. “Don’t give a fuck. That doesn’t change anything. I’m not playing any games with you Lana. Don’t question it; it is what it is.”

I roll my eyes at his casualness. I still don’t forgive him for saying Allie’s name. I want to, but it still hurts.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” she says for the third time. “But you’re my best friend and no one messes with you!”

“You guys treat me like a baby,” I mutter. “I don’t need you to stand up for me, Anna.”

“I know,” she says, holding her hands up. “But you’re too nice and forgiving. She needed a little more physical punishment to teach her a lesson. And I don’t regret it. I’d hit her again right now if she were here. I might throw in a throat punch as well.”

I hate that my lip twitches, laughter threatening. “You need anger management.”

“Coming from you!” she yells, then starts laughing herself.

“I’m not bad. So I snap now and again, big deal. Your anger is always there, simmering under the surface, looking for a chance to get out.”

“I’m not angry. I’m bitchy—there’s a difference.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not a bitch.”

“Yes, I am,” she replies, sounding amused. She pushes her hair back behind her ears, her lips quirking up at the sides.

“Fine, you’re my bitch then,” I tell her, winking at her.

She glances at me with wide eyes. “Pretty sure I’m Arrow’s bitch.”

I shake my head. “Such a feminist, Anna.”

She laughs. “It’s the honest truth. I’m his old lady. Same shit, right? Potato, potato.”

“That’s not the saying at all,” I deadpan. “What’s the point of saying potato the same way twice?”

Anna tilts her head. “Are you grumpy? Tracker not giving you his giant cock?”

My mouth drops. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Evading, interesting.”

“Nosy!”

“Prude.”

“Sex-starved!”

“Psycho woman who goes around beating people up,” I say, rushing the words out so I don’t lose the effect.

“Come on,” Anna says, nudging my shoulder and dropping our previous argument. “Fuck her. She let jealousy turn her into a crazy bitch; she got what she deserved. She’s lucky I only got to hit her once.”

I scrub my hand down my face. “This feels like high school all over again.”

Except this time it’s Allie getting shit, not me.

“And you,” I say, pointing to my best friend who now wore an innocent expression on her face. “Miss ‘I’m trying to have a baby’—no more fighting.”

She flips her hair. “I’m a biker bitch. No one messes with me or mine.”

I feel a headache coming on. “I need a drink. Like tequila.”

She comes closer and wraps her arm around me. “You were hurt, Lana. I never want to see you hurt again.”

Her voice breaks on the last two words.

I hug her back. “I’m fine. Shit happens, right?”

“Tracker must be a beast in bed for her to go apeshit over losing him,” she says with wide eyes.

“It’s the piercing,” I tease.

Anna shakes her head at me. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I nod, even though there’s so much I haven’t told her, or anyone else. I’ve kept everything bottled inside.

Swallowing hard, I say, “Remember how you asked how come I never kept in touch with anyone from school or had many friends? Well after you left, I kind of became a social outcast.”

Her eyes widen. “What happened?”

“Remember William Dean?”

She nods. “Yeah, preppy bastard you had a thing for.”

“Well, he happened,” I say with a cringe, then explain the story to her.

“Anyone who would sit with me, they would start getting bullied as well, so everyone avoided me like the plague. Boys who asked me out were blacklisted, so to speak. I mean, looking back on it now, it doesn’t seem so bad. I could go through it and be fine, but back then fitting in at school was everything, so it really got to me, you know? I kind of learned to manage on my own and only rely on myself.”

   
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