branded (phantoms mc #2)

eighteen: in which she makes a promise she can't keep

"Didn't you hear me cry?" -Azedia, Spin

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I knew I shouldn't have been driving.

I knew I shouldn't have been doing a lot of things in my life, but I did them anyway.

Like wasting Ghost's time for years when I knew exactly what he wanted.

Like letting my mother's illness control most of my decisions in life.

Like bringing Cam back to the same place she ran away from.

Stupid, stupid, stupid...

I wasn't drunk-driving. Worse... I was angry-driving. Or driving angry. Whatever the fuck. I looked up and saw Ghost's lights in my rearview mirror. He was like a stubborn tick on a dog. I couldn't shake him off, no matter how much I tried. I didn't want to try anymore.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my fingernails dug into my palms. I liked that feeling. It was keeping me sane. Keeping me from heading north towards the compound that the Cursed MC owned. Keeping me from a suicide mission that involved slowly dissecting their rapist President into tiny, manageable pieces.

I pulled up into my driveway and Ghost rolled in shortly after. I heard the slam of his door and knew that he was waiting for me to come out. He wouldn't come to me; I had to go to him.

I really, really didn't want him babysitting me like I was a wayward kid.

"Do you really think I'm gonna storm the Cursed's clubhouse and demand their President's head?" I hissed at him as I approached him.

"I know you, Pussy, so yes, I do think that," was his calm reply.

I didn't want calm. I wanted anger and thunder and lightning.

"You don't know me," I insisted, when I knew that Ghost knew me like the back of his calloused hand.

"You're impulsive," he said, "and headstrong, and overprotective. And those are just some of the fucking reasons I love you so damn much."

I didn't know how to reply to that.

Ghost let out a quiet laugh. I could feel his breath on my face. "You don't have to look so guilty. It's not your fault I still feel this way."

"I don't deserve your love," I told him, and that was the God's honest truth. "You're better off loving someone else."

"You don't think I've tried? With Ella? With everyone after her?" He looked away. "I've tried, Catalina. I've fucking tried."

I could feel those pesky fucking tears threatening to escape but I didn't know if I could stop them. Thinking about how he'd tried to replace me with Maya's older cousin, Ella, all those years ago... I had no right to still feel sore about it. At all. And yet, it hurt to remember.

"Who's that girl over there?" I asked Ripper, pointing my beer at the girl in the yellow dress and big afro. Her head was tilted up so she could look at Ghost, who was telling her something that was making her giggle. Even with so many people around us in the clubhouse, I thought I could hear that giggle.

Ripper glanced in her direction. "Oh, that's Ella. Ghost's girl."

I did a double take. "Ghost has a girl?"

"Yeah. She's my ex, but you know how those things go."

I couldn't take my eyes off her and Ghost, at how she easily fit under his arm and listened intently to every no-doubt naughty thing he was whispering in her ear. Somehow, my beer tasted sour in my mouth. "How do those things go?"