Her mouth twists to the side and I can’t help but chuckle softly.
“It’s also kind of gross because he’s my brother, but I’m going to let that part go and not think about it. Disassociation for the win,” she punches the air and does a little dance in her seat.
I snort out a louder laugh, and we both freeze as we share a look before dissolving into a giggle fit the likes of which the clubhouse has never known before. As it should be.
No one else is in the common room with us right now. They’re all out doing something, somewhere; I’m sure hard at work. Idon’t see why we can’t giggle right here and now, like this room hasn’t been christened with debauchery.
“But seriously,” she wheezes out the words, “I am happy for you. I can’t think of a better sister to have.”
Tears well up in my eyes and I have to look away and shake my head to stave them off. It’s not easy.
“Don’t make me cry,” I warn her.
When the moment settles, something warm and real is left behind, I keep my voice soft, “We don’t know that the Bunz Out thing is about me. Lara was kind of weird about it, like she had almost expected something like it to happen at some point.”
I shrug and think back to this morning and a smile curls one side of my mouth. “And she went off on Playboy for some bullshit he spouted,” I tell her.
Opal’s mouth drops open before she snaps it shut and leans closer. “No fucking way. I’ve never seen Playboy rude to someone, especially a woman. Normally, it’s all charm with him.”
“Not this time,” I tell her with a shake of my head. “He couldn’t stop looking at her, but there was something in it, something unspoken, like he had already made up his mind about her.”
Opal looks just as confused as I feel. She’s grown up in this club and around most of these guys and certainly knows them better than I do. If his behavior is out of character for him, I only have more questions.
I still need to get to know the guys around here. It’ll come with time. And, if it’s up to Turner, that time will be limitless.
“That’s not the only tension I’ve noticed,” my tone takes on a teasing lilt and Opal looks down at the rip in her jeans. She picks at the frayed edge, and I can almost see her bracing herself for what I’m about to say next.
It’s not the reaction I was expecting. Everything about Opal is upfront. She doesn’t deny who she is or how she grew up. She’ll be the first to tell you all the ways it shaped her, the good and the bad.
She doesn’t hide bits of herself. She doesn’t live where secrets and darkness meet.
“Hey,” I gently prod her as I reach for her hand, stilling her movements, “you know if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”
“I don’t,” she starts and swallows hard before starting again, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Okay then.
Normally I would let her off the hook, but I’ve been thinking about it over the last few days. Before, you know before everything happened, before Sylvester stripped me of who I am, I wouldn’t have let it go. I would have faced it with my best friend and not let her hide or shrink to avoid the hard parts.
I miss the person I used to be.
It’s time I find her again or wrestle her back into the light.
It’s time I give just as much to the people who I’m more than willing to take from. Not that they give me a choice, but that’s not the point.
“I’m not blind,” I tell her softly. “I’ve felt the tension between you and Sidewinder. You don’t have to tell me anything butknow I’m here if you ever want to talk. I’ll always have your back, Opal.” Her eyes are watery when they meet mine. “You’re my best friend, the first one I’ve had in a very long time. You have no idea how you saved me and gave me hope when I was ready to hide for the rest of my life.”
“Damn it,” she hisses at me and swipes at the few tears falling down her cheeks. “Don’t say sweet shit like that to me. We are in a biker lair; there are no tears in the biker lair.”
As much as I try to stop it, laughter spills free. At least she joins me. A little bit. Even though it’s slightly forced.
“Oh,” she exclaims and goes into her giant purse which should really be registered as a weapon, especially with the way she swings it around, “I almost forgot. Ta-da!”
She jazz hands the pieces of mail she pulls out of her purse with the flair of a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat. When she hands it to me, it’s clear to see that it’s mostly advertisements.
I shake my head and explain to Opal, who is looking strangely at my mail, “Stan likes to give me the ads and stuff to help me feel like I’m actually getting mail instead of getting nothing all the time.”
Opal’s face softens. “He’s a sweet man.”