Tatum
The clubhouse is noisy, but as I sit in Remy's room, waiting on him, I relish the quiet. I don't know what he's doing, but I know whatever it is, it's in my honor and possibly for his sanity.
I asked my dad hours ago when Remy would be back, but he wouldn't tell me. That makes me nervous. Remy isn't a hard man, not until he's backed into a corner, and then he fights like a wounded dog.
The doorknob turns, and I stand up from where I've been sitting, my gaze taking in the man I've been thinking about.
“Are you okay?" I ask as I take in Remy's appearance. I've never seen him look so disheveled. Never seen him with blood on his knuckles or the red stains on his clothing.
“Better than I've been in a while. They won't be back. Ever again." He sighs, but his shoulders aren't slumped.
