Page 152 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
“I’m going to get you a ride to the convent today,” I tell her with a certain level of confidence that I have no right to feel. I pleased Cat last night, sure, but will he really let Reba go? If I send her off without letting him know, I’ll be breaking a direct order. If I have to do that, I will, but I’d rather not. “Do you know where it is?”
She nods.
“And you do know that the place Grey is sending you is loosely affiliated with the mafia, right?”
Another nod.
I exhale and lean my head back against the seat cushions, staring up at the ceiling.
“I know what sort of position I’m putting myself in,” Reba explains, watching me as I slide my gaze back to hers. We’re drinking Earl Grey tea, and I swear to God, it smells so much like my husband that my entire body aches with want to hold him.
I’ve become one of those people, the ones who are so disturbingly in love that they’re impossible to be around.
“Do you?” I ask, lifting my head up and noticing that Reba is pursing her lips at me. “What? I just want to make sure you don’t get yourself into a situation that you can’t get out of.”
“Grey needs me,” Reba says, reaching out to put her hand over one of mine. Fem licks her arm as she stretches it across him, and she smiles. “He needs guidance, Gidge. You might not believe in God, but he sure does. He’s strugglin’ with his faith. Besides, I’m not just some dumb Southern belle. I get what the two o’ you are tryin’ to do. I want to be there to guide him when he has more power than he knows what to do with.”
“This isn’t getting married and raising babies and teaching kindergarten,” I warn, but Reba gives me a look. She knows that. She also knows that I said I was leaving the club life behind and disappearing into the ether. Yet, I’m still here. Plans change. Dreams change. Guess we’re both going to get exactly what we want.
“I’ll be there for you, too, if you ever need spiritual guidance.”
I’m already shaking my head at her.
“No. Not if you’re working with the mafia. You and I will … well, we won’t talk about that sort of thing.” I don’t say what I really mean. That is, we won’t get to talk much. At least not in person. It’ll be hard to find a safe, comfortable place to meet—even if Grey’s plan works out.
And that’s a big if.
“I love you, Gidge,” Reba tells me instead, giving my hand a squeeze. “And I don’t regret anything about our friendship. Even if I could go back in time and walk away from you, I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t say that,” I choke, suddenly feeling the prick of tears that I still am not used to shedding. “I’ve ruined your life.”
“No. You changed the course of it.” She releases my hand and drinks her tea, staring at the quiet fireplace. I’m glad she doesn’t know that I got bent over that couch arm she’s leaning against and banged by four dudes last night. She’d hate that. “Life is never ruined. It just shifts. If you learn to follow the wind, you don’t have to fight against every storm.”
“Damn, that’s some wisdom,” I murmur, and she chuckles. “I love you, too, you know? But if I could go back to that first day of kindergarten, I would shove you hard and tell you I hated you, just to keep you safe from me and my influence. I’m not even sorry about that.”
Reba smiles, but she doesn’t look at me, still staring at the fireplace.
Fem grumbles and rolls onto his back, spreading his legs wide and begging for belly scratches. I tease the inside of his left leg with scritches of my nails until he’s kicking at the air in bliss.
“I’ve been calling him Fem-fem, Reba,” I say, trying to lighten the mood as I pretend to be scandalized by the idea. “You know that’s what Nellie’s always called him, and I’ve always hated it. I must be getting soft in my old age.”
That makes us both chuckle, chasing away the memories from last night.
Even if I don’t regret what I did, even if I’d do it again, it doesn’t mean I want every single second of my life to be soaked in blood and violence. My ability to flip between extremes is a necessary adaptation to live this life. There’s no time to dwell on dark things because they’re happening constantly, everywhere, at all times.
“There are quite a few buses leaving today,” I say, giving Fem one, last scratch before curling both of my hands around my mug. “Families heading to the airport. I’ll put you on one, and you can transfer to a cab when you get there. I’ll give you money, too.” I snicker at that and lift a brow as she looks over at me. “I won a decent amount during our poker game last night; you can have that.”
