Mad Max: Hounds of the Reaper MC by Rowe S. J

Author:Rowe, S. J. [Rowe, S. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0C6L88CP5
Goodreads: 168196771
Published: 2023-11-15T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17 – Cheyanne

H

urt. I think I feel hurt. I keep pushing whatever it is out of my mind to stay emotionally free, but my stomach is still the one acting up. I don’t feel like I can catch my breath. A part of me is sinking, and I feel hollow inside. I don’t get hurt—my feelings, anyway—very often. People try, but it doesn’t bother me ’cause I expect it.

I even expected this, though not this whole setup. I knew the club still didn’t trust me. Even agreed that what I presented to them would look sketchy to most. Guess I didn’t realize till just now that I put the beast above that “most” category.

“Did I at least pass whatever test you were trying for tonight?” I make no move to get up. I’m comfy, and no one has told me to leave. And I still have my drink to finish.

I really had fun tonight, beyond the constant death glares from more than half the club who probably knew everything. Well, everything the others told them, painting me in a bad light, I’m sure. The other half just pretended I wasn’t there, which I’m used to.

But the women? The old ladies? They treated me better than most. Sure, all we did was sit and chat, but I was included. No one spoke over me or tried to make me feel bad about myself or who I was related to. They even asked questions and tried to help me solve a problem. A problem I didn’t even know I had till I voiced it.

Seeing Mad Max, being around him, makes things complicated. And that’s the issue. I like things clear. Black and white. When there’s gray, I work it out till I can separate the two colors. Finding Candy is easy—I know where to go, who to talk to. The gray is how to say the right word to get things moving so I can help her back home. Mad Max is all gray.

Family shouldn’t mean anything to me, not with how my parents treated me. I should shun everything and everyone related, but I cling to my uncle in my own way. He makes me want to stay even though he does nothing much, just accepts me. Never asks me to change.

Like the beast. Not once has he told me to be something I’m not. Sure, he forced a few things on me, like getting new locks. Or told me to do or not do something, like at the coffee shop when he said to stop whatever I was doing before he even knew what I was involved in. But he’s never told me to stop being me. To stop acting a certain way or talking like I do. I know both have pissed off others in the past. And he’s never said I was odd or weird—two words used to describe me all the time, and the two words I hate most in the entire universe.

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