Page 36 of Riding Hard

Without another word, he walks away. Turning my head, I watch him make his way toward the van. The license plates won’t match anything in the system in case anyone comes looking.

Two-Pump doesn’t make a single motion to move. He’s staring straight ahead, though I know he’s not actually seeing anything. He’s thinking about his mom and about what Dare has just announced. I highly doubt he meant it in any kind of way, especially to Two-Pump. It was mostly just for him and his shit. But that doesn’t mean those words didn’t slam into our brother, because they did—hard.

“I should do the same,” he states. “There’s no saving her. Deep into addiction for the past fifteen years.”

“You’re only thirty,” I point out.

He snorts. “Yeah, born a drug baby, brother. When she was fifteen.”

Fuck.

His mom’s younger than me, then. Only forty-five years old. Fucking hell. I doubt any of us has had the perfect life, but thinking about him having a mom that young and on drugs, too—my mind shifts from Two-Pump to my own son. Because I gave him that mother.

Destinee might not be as young as he was, but she’s been addicted to whatever the fuck since day one. For Cade, that shit stops now. I curl my hand around his shoulder and flex my fingers gently.

“You never know, brother. There’s hope for everyone as long as they’re still breathin’.”

It’s a lie I tell him to make him feel better. Because there is no hope for Destinee. She won’t be breathing after tonight, though, so I guess maybe it’s not a complete fucking lie, after all.

CHAPTER

THIRTY

LOOT

Two-Pump and I don’t move. We don’t speak to one another until after Destinee has jumped into the club van and Dare has taken off. I still don’t know how the fuck we got here, but here we are. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I reach for the device and look down at the screen.

It’s a text from Cade’s caseworker. She’s going to be showing up for an at-home visit next week. No telling when, just next week sometime. She doesn’t have to give me a heads-up, but it’s nice that she has.

“There’s no hope for her,” Two-Pump states. “I know it, but I still look for her.”

“Dare’s just thinking about Wrath’s sister. She was lost and on drugs. They were young, the love-of-his-life kind of thing, at least that’s what he thought at the time. Brings up bad memories, is all. But not everyone is a lost cause.”

Two-Pump jerks his chin upward once, inhaling a deep breath before he lets it out slowly, and then turns to look at me. He claps his hands together, rubbing them a few times, and takes a step backward.

“Enough of this depressing shit. Let’s take care of the bitch that fucked with your kid, get drunk, and then get laid, in no particular fucking order.”

It’s like preaching to a goddamn choir. I want to do all of the above, but in a particular order: Destinee, a shower, Jules, and a drink. Then I want to go home and hold my son. I’m not sure I’ll ever tell him about his mother—about my connection to her impending disappearance.

I wish I could erase all the bad shit she’s put him through. He’s innocent. A kid. An extension of myself. And I’ve let him down. I’ve failed him. Never again. Not ever again. I hate myself for what I’ve done, and I’ll never be able to make it up to him.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I straddle my bike. When I slide my thumb across the screen, it’s the exact person I’ve been thinking of. He shouldn’t be calling me right now. He should be in class.

Bringing my phone to my ear, I clear my throat as my heart begins to slam against my chest. I don’t know why he’s calling me in the middle of the day. If something is wrong, this is the worst fucking day for it to happen.

“Dad?” he calls out when I don’t speak immediately.

“Are you okay?” I finally ask, my heart not slowing down at all. In fact, I think it’s beating faster with each passing moment. He’d better start talking, or my fifty-year-old heart is going to give out. I just know it.

“I’m okay,” he sighs.

He sounds exhausted or maybe annoyed. I can’t quite tell, and my interest is now piqued. I start to ask him what the hell is going on, but I decide to let him tell me, even if he’s not going fast enough for my liking.

“It’s just… I got into a fight.”

I blink, unsure that he’s said what he has. “A fight?” I ask.

Two-Pump snorts next to me. “A fight?” he hisses, trying not to laugh.