Priss drops Tilly off after school every day, and brings Veronica a large mocha with extra foam and a cinnamon scroll knowing they’re her weakness. Veronica has been constantly bitching about shitty hospital food, so she’s glad for the opportunity to eat anything from the outside world. Priss can’t stay long each day, half an hour at the most. However, her presence brightens Veronica’s day giving her something to look forward to at the arrival of Tilly. Not that Veronica doesn’t look forward to seeing Priss because she does. I think it’s just Tilly provides such a good distraction, and breaks up the monotony of lying in her hospital bed, day in and day out. Tank is the one to pick Tilly up at close to dinnertime every day. He takes her home, or to diner if Priss is still working. Tank doesn’t say a whole lot to Veronica. Shit, he doesn’t say a lot to anyone, other than Priss and Tilly. Even then after watching him interact with them for years it’s strange to see him so open with them. No one should take offence at his behaviour, it’s just the way he is. He smiles at Veronica and asks her how she’s feeling, but that’s about it. No small talk, and no lengthy conversations it’s not his MO.
That isn’t to say Tank doesn’t like Veronica, he does and he proves it by managing to smile at her in the first place. Not everyone gets a ‘Two dimple Tank special’. Don’t ask me, that’s what the women around the club call Tank’s smile, fucked if I know why. He’s reserved and watchful with Veronica and she tends to mirrors his behaviour usually opting to sit quietly during his visits, both reading the paper, or magazines in companionable silence. I’ve never left the hospital once during her admission. I figured it wouldn’t be long before I went stir crazy at the sound of the machines, squeaky nurse’s shoes along the hallways, and pagers going off 24/7, but there was no way in hell I was leaving her. From the minute the paramedics brought her in, until the second I drove her home to my place, I was with her every minute of every day.
Ronnie, as I’ve reverted to calling her, it was funny how quickly I fell back into my old habits with her, was fucking furious I wouldn’t allow her to go home to her apartment. Protests, cute as fuck temper tantrums, complete with foot stomping, and non-cooperation ignored, I loaded her up in Cage’s SUV, and took her back to my place undeterred by her threats of castration and two attempts to maim me while I buckled her in. I only had my bike currently and this was something I intended on rectify ASAP. A big ass SUV or truck to drive her around in while keeping her safe, sounded like a fucking excellent idea to me. While I’d love to have her ride with me, she’s not fit to in her current state, but I’ll abso-fucking-lutely be putting her on the back of my bike as soon as she’s healed.
Unlike her; who lives in a one bed, studio apartment above Skin Fusion I live in a four bed, three bath, single story log cabin style home on the outskirts of town. It’s only about ten minutes from the clubhouse and fifteen minutes from town. Even though that isn’t far, its woodland setting makes it feel far more isolated than it really is, and I fucking love that about the place. I bought the house outright about two years after patching in with Devil’s Spawn MC. That is going on five years ago now. At the time I wanted to put down roots, have somewhere permanent to call home because I hadn’t had one of those in a fucking long time. I found this place and knew it was exactly what I was looking for.
I’ve done a shit ton of renovations to the place since originally purchasing it though. The previous owner was the one who built the place and I don’t think in all the time he’d lived there he’d replaced a single thing. I updated the kitchen to include stainless steel appliances, added smooth, sealed concrete bench tops, and replaced the outdated pine cabinets with dark stained timber ones to match the flooring I laid throughout the house. The dated kitchen door handles I changed to brushed steel hardware and installed a new pantry because the previous one was half the size of a regular sized pantry. In the master bathroom I installed a corner whirlpool tub big enough to fit four. I’ve never tried that out, but I was assured by the sales guy it would. A double sized shower including rain shower heads, and his and hers sink later and the whole thing was set up like a wet room. It was Trig, a brother in Devil’s Spawn, and also my contractor’s idea. He said it was easier to clean or some shit and the ladies apparently love them. I wouldn’t know. I don’t invite women to my house, ever. Sandstone tiles cover the space creeping three quarters of the way up the walls. It make the room look like something out of a magazine, and I have to admit I’m fucking proud of how it all come together in the end. It cost a fucking whack, but the results were worth it.
Originally my intention was to give Ronnie the guest room. It has its own bathroom attached and she would have been comfortable in there. It was nowhere near as luxurious as mine, but it was nice and serviceable nonetheless. Mainly I didn’t think that Ronnie would appreciate me putting her in my room. I figured she would see it as too personal and turn me down. However, when I heard her rehab therapist tell her that soaking the scar in a warm bath will assist in its healing I decided to hell with the protests I’d receive and I gave her my room instead. I can’t say the thought of having her in my bed, leaving her scent all over my sheets as she wrapped her gorgeous body in them, didn’t appeal to me either because I think that was actually what pushed me over the edge with my decision.
Other than the redesigned my bathroom; I also knocked through the wall in my bedroom adding French doors out on to the deck that wraps round the whole house. I put a two-person, table and chair setting out there and use it primarily to have my morning coffee and smoke. It’s tranquil, and overlooks the woodland my thirty-acre property backs on to. This is where I come to think when things start to weigh on me. I’ve always found nature calming, and my property was no exception.
I hadn’t bothered with personalising my room originally, I didn’t see the point. No one saw it and I only used it to sleep, so what’s the point in doing it up? Aside from my California King bed, with its leather head and footboard that takes up the centre of the room, a tallboy chest of drawers on one wall, and wall mounted sixty-inch TV on the other, I’ve only got a couple of side tables and a leather wing chair in the corner. There’s very little decoration and that’s the way I like it. No photos, no art work, no candles, or other girly shit that just clutters the place up. Just a straight up man’s bedroom.
The reason I don’t bring women home is because, not only do I not want them knowing where I live; I don’t want them spending the night expecting to cuddle and shit. I don’t do that shit. EVER. There’s only one woman I want to hold all night, and have in my bed on a permanent basis; and she’s the woman that is fighting being here tooth and nail. Go figure. The one woman I’m happy to share that part of myself with, and she would be the one to turn me down hard.
The only woman that’s been in my house, other than Kendall; and she’s only been here when we’ve grilled over the summer, and then only when Lexi and the other brothers are around, is been Brenna, and she proved why I don’t let women in here in the first place. Brenna saw my bedroom and rushed out immediately to buy me a black denim comforter, matching pillow cases, red sheets, and some poofy ass throw cushions. When I saw those I about lost my fucking mind.
“What the fuck are those?” I asked. I hope I looked adequately disgusted because that’s exactly how I felt.
Laughing at me, Brenna patted my shoulder. “They, my dear, Arrow, are called throw cushions.” I gave her a hard glare at her description.
“What? Like throw them out the fucking window cushions?” I said sarcastically. I don’t think she realised I was being dead fucking serious either. What the fuck did I need those fucking things for? I think she thought I was joking. I absolutely was fucking not.
“No. They’re decorative and set off the tone of the room. You won’t have your man card revoked because of a few cushions Arrow, don’t worry.” I was in awe of the woman standing before me. Why she thought I’d want decorative fucking cushions that set off the tone of my room to begin with was beyond me. She was also ri
ght with the next part of her statement too. I’m a fucking man, not some pansy ass retro-chic motherfucker, and I had no doubt that she was wrong about my man card being revoked for this because if any of the guys from the club saw this shit, I would be kicked the fuck out of the man club in a heartbeat. At that moment, I felt really fucking sorry for Priest. If he had those fucking things all through his house I’m surprised he didn’t take up residence in the clubhouse full-time.
Brenna looked upset that I came across unappreciative of her efforts, so I relented, handed her a wad of cash to cover her purchases sending her on her way quickly. I didn’t want her getting other crazy ass ideas about helping me decorate other rooms in my house. After seeing that shit, there was no way that would ever be happening. That was also when I learned something else about Brenna Rose Jacobs; she is a crafty witch of a woman. She was neither upset, nor put off by my obvious distaste for her fucking cushions, apparently she had found it fucking hilarious watching me squirm and give into her. How do I know this? Simple. A few days later when I showed up at the clubhouse I was met with hysterical laughter from my brothers after the witch herself had informed them all that I was the proud new owner of a bed full of ruffled cushions. Let’s just say, I didn’t live that down for a fucking long time. Actually, I think some of them still fucking chuckle about it from time to time.
Helping Ronnie into my bed, I prop her up with some of those poofy ass cushions behind her back, turn on the TV, and power up Netflix. On second thought, maybe they do have a purpose, and my choice to burn them ASAP might need to be put on hold for now. As I turn back to her and hand her the remote her fingers brush mine, and an electric current run between us complete with sparks crackling off our skin. If this is what the simple touch of our fingers does, there won’t be any denying the attraction between us for long, and that works for me.
“Search for a movie or something for us to watch, Babe, while I make us some lunch, yeah?” She looks less than impressed, but honestly, I really don’t give a fuck. I had to hide my smile when I realised Ronnie recognised she was stranded here. She looked so fucking pissed that if she could’ve had steam coming out of her ears like they do on those cartoons, she would have.
“Seriously, Nate? This is unnecessary. I’m fine. I can go home, you know.” Of course I know that. The thing is, I won’t allow it, so it’s not happening. She isn’t a hundred percent, and there are thirty-two stairs to get up to her studio apartment with no lift. Moreover, I want her here so I can keep an eye on her, making sure she isn’t overdoing things. I know her well enough to know that she’ll push herself too hard and fast, if she’s left unattended. The God’s honest truth is; if I have any say in it, she won’t be leaving ever. I’ll gradually start moving her things having them appear as if by miracle until I’ve moved her in here completely. She’ll fight me at first, but given time I also know I can get her to relent. As long as I don’t push her too hard or fast, eventually she’ll cave and see thing my way. Well, I hope she does anyway.
There’s nothing I want more that to have Ronnie back in my life permanently. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s MINE, and in this, she simply doesn’t have a choice. Sure, she can throw sass, which secretly I fucking love, she’s extra fucking sexy when she’s pissed, and generally deny me, but I’ll win in the end. I always do. Sighing I take her soft, manicured hand in mine and rub my thumb over her palm. “You’re not going home, Ronnie we already talked about this shit. This is home for you for now, so get used to it. Now, you can sit here and stare at the wall, or you can fire up a movie, quit your bitching, and we can eat some lunch. What’s it gonna be?”
Huffing and snatching her hand from mine she asks, “Were you always such a bossy asshole, or is this just a new development?”
Chuckling at her I lean in, so our noses are only an inch away from each other,
“I’ve learned a lot in the years we’ve been apart, Baby. One of those things is, when I know what I want; I get it no matter the cost and I don’t stop until I do.”
Her eyes widen and her breathing picks up. I almost feel her sweet clean scent slowly invading my senses. She smells like spring and hint of orchid, it’s a heady mix and fucking does things to me.
“Oh.” Her gorgeous, naturally red lips part in an O shape and her eyes are glazed. She’s just as turned on as I am and it’s going to be a hell of a ride watching her try and deny it.
“You want to know what I want, Ronnie?” I know the answer is ‘no’. Fuck no, she won’t want to hear what comes out of my mouth next, but I don’t give her the opportunity to answer anyway. “I want you. I want us. I want what we should have had years ago. We’ve lost a lot of time, Baby, and I intend on making that up to you. We’re just going to do that here, in my house, in my bed, with me in your life and you in mine, like it should’ve been all along.” Her breaths are now coming in shallow pants, and Ronnie’s looking at me with a mixture of fear and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. It doesn’t take me long to figure out what it is though. Fuck! Terror. Ronnie looks fucking terrified. The last thing I want is for her to be scared of me, and terrified is even worse. I’ll never hurt her, and she knows that, or at least I won’t hurt her physically. The truth is; I did fucking hurt her emotionally. I ripped her fucking heart out, and stomped on it effectively killing part of the sweet, caring girl that literally helped to save me from myself.
Sucking in a deep breath, the sheer extent of damage my actions years ago caused finally dawns on me. The weight of the realisation is staggering and leaves me struggling to catch my breath. If emotional distress could cause actual pain, this would be at a twelve on the pain scale. This shit fucking hurts.
When I left Patterson, in search of work at the age of eighteen, I did it knowing when I eventually came back, my sunshine would still be there waiting for me, ready to make my dark days brighter. That’s what Ronnie’s always done for me, whether it was in person or just via the memories of her, she’s forever been my beacon. What we had was special because for me, her smile was wider, brighter even; her laugh was louder and more melodic, and her hugs tighter, leaving me feeling complete afterwards. After what happened with Ronnie’s sister, I could never put my finger on exactly what part of Ronnie being gone was the worse. I felt more alone than I ever had before, and the pain of her absence was excruciating. For fucks sake, the love of my life had left me, was gone without a trace, it was expected, that I’d feel all that shit, but that wasn’t what was missing and I couldn’t until now work out what was.
Until this moment I hadn’t realised the most devastating part of all of it was the loss of my sunshine. I’d had so little in my life that brought me joy, warmth, light, and love. Ronnie was the only person that gave me that and did it naturally. She did it without question or expectations, never asking me for anything. Ronnie simply listened to me, paid attention to everything about me, everything I said, I think she knew everything about me in less than a year after meeting her she listened that well. Ronnie sympathised with my situation without resorting to pity holding my hand when she knew I needed the support.
Sitting down heavily beside her outstretched legs, I hang my head in my hands. It literally hurts. My fucking head feels like it’s going to explode. I deserved the consequences of my actions, of course I did, and I’ve never denied it, but having it hit me all over again years after the fact feels borderline cruel. I can feel Ronnie shuffle in behind me, followed by the soft touch of her hand on my arm. Looking up, I see her eyes are filled with the same pained look as my own.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Ronnie. Fuck me. I’m so sorry.”
Clutching intently now at my forearm, Ronnie gives me a sad smile and says, “I know you are, Nate. For what it’s worth, I forgive you. It’s all in the past and you need to move on and find a way to get past it.”
My sweet fucking sunshine. If only it were that easy. “Is that what you did? Got past it? You got over me and moved on?”
Shaking her hea
d sadly she adds, “Yes Nate. I got past it, I had to. I forgave you almost as soon as it happened. I knew Verity…” I stop her.
I can’t hear that cunt’s name, and not want to tear some shit apart. I also notice she didn’t actually say she got over ME. A glimmer of hope slides through me. It might be too much to hope for that she still cares for me, but fuck it, I’m a stupid man after all and hope’s all I’ve got.
“Don’t,” it comes out in a harsh bark, harsher than I intended. “Don’t speak her name in this house, especially not in my bed. She doesn’t belong here, and she never will.” Sighing and reclining back to her previous position on the bed, Ronnie shocks me with what she says next. Maybe it’s a shock because we’ve never spoken again since the day she found me with her sister, or maybe it’s a shock because I don’t expect her to be so open with acknowledging the past. All I know is what she says can’t be unheard, and I don’t want to.
“You have to understand, Nate. I loved you. With every piece of me I loved you. You were the only thing that had ever been truly MINE in my life. That meant something to me. No,” she says with a sad shake of her head. “It meant everything to me. Having to see that, seeing you with her, tore me apart in ways that I didn’t know a person could be torn apart. My heart didn’t break that day, Nate, it broke EVERY day after that. Every day I spent away from you, every day I spent wondering where you were, if you were ok, or what you were doing it broke a little more. It broke for what wasn’t only mine anymore, what SHE ruined. I knew she had a crush on you, way back when, she lusted after you because she told me as much. She told me I was never good enough for a man like you, and I’d never be able to keep you. She TOLD me she was going to steal you away. I wasn’t worried about all that though, I knew that you didn’t want her, you’d told me so, and I believed you.” She says on a small self-depreciating chuckle.
Floating Page 2
