Mi Nueva Vida

Mi Nueva Vida

Stephanie Mills

187.0k Words / Completed
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Introduction

Atrapada en un pueblo que nunca eligió, rodeada de personas con las que no tuvo más opción que estar, Layla aprendió desde temprano a sobrevivir.
Durante años, observó y manipuló para hacer que las cosas fueran como debieron haber sido antes de que sus abuelos se volvieran codiciosos.
Ahora, por fin, llegó al punto en el que nada de eso recaía sobre ella y pudo empezar su vida y tratar de encontrar el amor.
El pasado ya no es suyo para cargar.

Esta es la historia de una chica rota por las decisiones de otros—hasta que toma el control, cambia las tornas y se propone reclamar una vida, e incluso un amor, que finalmente son suyos.
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Stephanie Mills

Chapter 1

      • Punto de vista de Layla * * *

Nos acabamos de mudar a una nueva casa al otro lado de la calle del club de motociclistas Wolf MC en Sapulpa, Oklahoma. No quería mudarme — nadie me preguntó mi opinión, claro. Es más fácil seguir adelante, dejar que piensen que soy solo una niña tonta que no le importa.

Mi mamá tiene un nuevo novio ahora, y parece bastante decente, supongo. No me molesto en interactuar mucho con él; mantengo mi distancia, como siempre.

Hace dos años, mi papá murió protegiendo a la esposa del presidente de Spirit MC durante un ataque fallido de un club rival. Estaba justo al lado mío y de mi madrina cuando sucedió, protegiéndonos con su cuerpo. Dos balas lo alcanzaron en la espalda, y se fue.

No estoy enojada porque la haya salvado — ella es mi madrina, y perderla me habría destrozado. Pero lo extraño todos los días. Eso no significa que cambiaría la vida de otra persona para tenerlo de vuelta. La vida no funciona así.

Llego a la casa en mi moto, el bajo rugido del motor cortando la tranquila calle. La casa es de tres pisos y necesita arreglos, con pintura blanca descascarada y molduras azules descoloridas. Claro, mamá eligió un lugar que necesita trabajo. Podría ser bonita una vez arreglada, pero no levantaré un dedo para ayudar. Tengo mis propios planes y solo unas pocas semanas para llevarlos a cabo.

El apartamento del sótano es mío — mi propio espacio, separado del caos de la casa principal donde mis tres hermanos menores están con mamá y su novio. Tengo un hermano mayor, Ghost, pero papá lo envió lejos cuando era pequeña, por razones que nadie ha explicado.

Éramos cercanos cuando papá estaba vivo, pero ahora apenas sé de él.

Respiro hondo, aún montada en mi moto, y miro al otro lado de la calle. La casa club de Wolf MC se alza allí, una cabaña de troncos que parece que alguna vez fue un hotel, convertido en su sede ruda. ¿Por qué alguien pensó que un buen hotel pertenecía a un pueblo perdido como Sapulpa está más allá de mi entendimiento? Este lugar es un agujero en la pared, no un destino turístico.

Los tipos del MC ya están mirando, sus ojos siguiéndome desde el porche. Mantengo mi casco puesto, la palabra "Ice" escrita en púrpura profundo y plata captando la luz del sol. Me dieron el apodo porque mi cabello siempre ha sido de un color blanco plateado, además de que lidiar con ellos me ha vuelto fría y sarcástica. No me gustan la mayoría de las personas. Ni siquiera puedes confiar en tu propia madre.

Estoy vestida con jeans azules, una camiseta negra sin mangas, mi chaqueta de cuero y botas, lista para lo que sea que me depare el día. Mi 9mm está guardada en la funda dentro de mi chaqueta, y tengo cuchillos escondidos en varios lugares. Los motociclistas borrachos piensan que pueden agarrar a quien quieran y salirse con la suya — no conmigo. He aprendido a protegerme de la manera difícil.

—Layla, tus cosas ya están en tu apartamento abajo— dice mamá, sin siquiera levantar la vista de lo que está desempacando.

—Está bien, gracias— respondo, forzando amabilidad. —¿Necesitan ayuda?— No quiero ayudar, pero pregunto porque se espera, no porque me importe.

—No, lo tenemos manejado— dice, desestimándome.

Sabía que diría eso. No le gusto mucho — soy la mayor de sus cuatro hijos, y siempre ha consentido a los tres menores: Travis y Thomas, los gemelos de 16 años, y Sean, que tiene 15. Están mimados, siempre lo han estado. Ghost, mi hermano mayor como mencioné, es 10 años mayor que yo y está en el ejército en algún lugar.

Mamá no estaba mucho cuando era más joven. Desaparecía por meses, luego aparecía de la nada con uno o dos niños, diciendo que eran de papá. Un año después de los gemelos, tuvo a Sean. Es como si desapareciera durante sus embarazos, solo para regresar una vez que los bebés nacían, arrojándolos en nuestras vidas como si nada hubiera pasado.

Me quito el casco mientras hablamos, dejando que mi cabello plateado caiga. Al otro lado de la calle, uno de los tipos del MC murmura —¿Qué diablos, eso es una chica?— Idiotas. Como si mi figura no lo dejara claro. Otra voz, más áspera, agrega —Ella va a ser un problema. Mejor mantenerse alejado.

Mi familia no se molesta en defenderme. Nunca lo hacen. Desde que papá murió, he tenido que defenderme sola. Para ellos, soy una prima distante que toleran, no una hermana o una hija. Me giro para ver quién está hablando y veo al presidente de Wolf MC charlando con el nuevo novio de mamá. Incluso él no dice una palabra en mi defensa. Dios sabe qué mentiras le ha contado mamá sobre mí.

Miré con furia antes de dirigirme al costado de la casa y bajar las escaleras hacia mi apartamento.

La puerta del sótano es endeble, una pieza barata de madera que tendré que reemplazar una vez que tenga acceso al dinero que me dejó papá. Aunque el apartamento no está mal. No es un sótano húmedo y mohoso — hay ventanas grandes, de unos tres pies por cinco, que dejan entrar mucha luz. Puedo colgar mis cortinas y hacerlo mío. Entro en la sala de estar y empiezo a abrir las ventanas que dan a la calle, el leve murmullo de las voces del club se cuela.

El presidente está hablando con mis hermanos ahora, algo sobre prospectar para el MC. Bien por ellos. No me importa si me ven moviéndome; todavía no he encontrado mis cortinas, y no voy a detenerme a preocuparme por eso.

Ya he desempacado la cocina y la mitad de mi dormitorio. Cuatro cajas están en la esquina: una etiquetada “sala de estar”, otra “baño”, y dos marcadas “sala de arte”. Abro la caja de la sala de estar y encuentro mis cortinas, el reloj en la pared marca apenas pasado el mediodía. Tengo tiempo de sobra para ir a la tienda y comprar algo de comida antes de que se haga tarde.

Decidí tomar un descanso y hacer justamente eso. Cogí mis llaves y salí hacia mi Harley, su cromo brillando bajo el sol del mediodía. La moto rugió bajo mí. Mientras recorría las calles del pequeño pueblo de Sapulpa, el viento azotando mi chaqueta de cuero, dejé que mi mente divagara. El pueblo era tan aburrido como esperaba — tiendas descoloridas, un par de comedores, y no mucho más.

Entonces, por el rabillo del ojo, vi una figura familiar en la acera. Alto, de hombros anchos, con una barba gris y un chaleco de cuero gastado.

—¿Tío Rick?— Sacudí la cabeza, mi cabello plateado ondeando en la brisa. No puede ser. No lo había visto desde que tenía ocho años, cuando papá envió a Ghost lejos por razones que nadie nunca explicó. Debo estar viendo cosas, proyectando fantasmas de un pasado que apenas recuerdo.

Dejé el pensamiento de lado y seguí conduciendo hasta que llegué al estacionamiento de Walmart, el asfalto brillando bajo el calor de Oklahoma. Me estacioné cerca de la entrada, bajé el soporte y apagué el motor. Justo cuando bajaba mi pierna de la moto, una camioneta negra destartalada se detuvo detrás de mí, sus neumáticos crujían sobre la grava suelta.

Mi estómago se retorció al reconocer el guardabarros abollado y la calcomanía descolorida de Spirit MC en la puerta trasera. Era la camioneta de tío Rick. Supongo que no estaba imaginando cosas después de todo.

Me quité el casco, dejando que mi cabello cayera sobre mis hombros, y observé mientras tío Rick bajaba de la camioneta. Se veía más viejo de lo que recordaba, pero su presencia aún tenía esa fuerza tranquila a la que me aferré cuando era niña. Antes de que pudiera procesar lo que estaba sucediendo, él se dirigió hacia mí, sus botas rozando el pavimento.

—¿Tío Rick?— dije. —¿Qué haces aquí? Pensé que no querías tener nada que ver con nosotros.

Su rostro se suavizó, pero había un peso en sus ojos, algo pesado y no dicho. —Eso no es cierto, princesa— dijo. Metió la mano en la camioneta y sacó una laptop negra y un teléfono barato, extendiéndomelos. —Tengo un archivo para que leas. Está en esta laptop — bien protegida, para que nadie más pueda acceder. Y toma este teléfono. No dejes que tu mamá lo vea, Layla. Ella no debía llevarse a ustedes, y esta laptop explicará por qué. Te quiero, ¿me oyes? Siempre te he querido. Te voy a enviar mensajes todos los días para ver cómo estás, y llámame cuando necesites. Si estás en problemas, manda la palabra clave ‘unicornio’, y te encontraré, sin importar dónde estés.

Me lo dice mientras lo miro confundida. Mis dedos se cerraron alrededor de la laptop y el teléfono. —Yo también te quiero, tío— logré decir. —Me pondré en contacto y te avisaré si estoy en problemas.

—Yo también te quiero, tío. Me pondré en contacto y te avisaré si estoy en problemas.— Me dio un abrazo y luego se fue. Bueno, eso fue breve, supongo que está ocupado.

Con eso, subió de nuevo a su camioneta y se fue.

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