by Ivy Black
He laughed. “We’ll get there. Don’t you worry.” He kissed the top of my head. “It’s okay to sleep here, you know.”
“I know,” I said, and then glanced up at Harry. His eyes fell into mine and it took my breath away. I set my head back down on his chest and closed my eyes, trying to still the thrumming in my heart.
The last thought that crossed my brain as I fell asleep was that I was in serious trouble.
Chapter Eight
Bullet
Every part of me truly expected Celia to be gone when I woke up, so when I peeled my eyes open and she was still nestled against me with my hand resting over her slender hip, I smiled. Even with her hair a mess from the raucous lovemaking we’d engaged in well into the early hours of the morning, she was still stunning, and I found myself staring. I’d be lying if I said I understood what was going on in my life at the moment. Between Nick trying to promote me at the club and Celia and I suddenly dating again after what happened the first time, it felt like things were more happening to me versus me making an active choice. What was I meant to do with it all?
Next to me, Celia started to shift and stretch in bed and then her eyes drifted open. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied. “Sorry, I’ve been staring. I’m shocked you’re still here.”
She snickered. “Oh, you really are planning to get a lot of mileage out of that, aren’t you?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” I responded and then leaned down and kissed her.
In truth, I wasn’t a man who thought much about the future. For a large chunk of my life, I never even knew if I was going to make it from day to day. Between being abused for most of my childhood and up through my bad accident of a few years ago, my goal was always just “make it to tomorrow”. When Nick first asked if I’d ever thought about moving up in the club, and when the younger members first talked about me being ghosted, I realized I was being forced to think beyond tomorrow.
What did I want to do with my days beyond tomorrow?
Celia’s hand went up to my cheek and brushed along it. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got this really scrunched-up look on your face.”
“Just life,” I said.
She sat up a little, holding herself up on her forearms. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Are you hungry? I’ll make us some breakfast.”
Celia recoiled a bit but nodded. “I could eat.”
Leaning over and taking one more kiss from her, I climbed out of the bed and walked down the hallway and turned into the kitchen. Both Chatterbox and Jingle were there in an instant, both no doubt angry that I’d slept in and denied them their timely breakfasts, so I grabbed a bag of treats from the cabinet and dropped a couple on the counter for each of them while I filled their bowls.
“Oh, hello,” Celia said, turning into the kitchen and seeing the cats. “Who do we have here?” Jingle was gone in a flash. He wasn’t a social cat, and the presence of someone new was never something he approved of. “Rude,” Celia joked.
“Sorry. That was Jingle. He’s not a people person.”
“I see. This one, however…” As Celia was talking, Chatterbox walked over to her and started to nuzzle himself against her arm, begging for any head scratches she had to offer, complete with a begging meow. “He’s talkative.”
“Well, that’s why his name is Chatterbox,” I said.
Her jaw dropped. “Is it really?”
“Yep.”
“Does he like being held?” she asked.
“Loves it.”
Celia curled her arms under Chatterbox and lifted him up from his spot on the counter, and Chatterbox nuzzled his head against her neck. I smiled at him, understanding his affection toward her, and loving the adorable way she giggled as he snuggled her.
“I suppose this is what I miss when I cut and run,” she said.
I started chopping up some potatoes and green onions to fry. “It is. Unlike his brother, he loves making new friends. Hang around long enough and he’ll never leave you alone.”
“I think I’d be okay with that.” She walked over and looked down at the bowls on the counter. “This is their food, I assume?”
“Yeah,” I responded. “Chatter will go for his when you two are done cuddling and Jingle will starve before he comes in here with you standing here.”
Celia lifted the bowls from the table and walked into the living room and sat down on the floor. She crossed her legs and set the bowls on the floor in front of her. The second she set Chatterbox down, he walked over to his bowl and started to munch, but the other bowl sat untouched. I continued to prepare breakfast until I heard Celia clicking her tongue and tapping her leg. I looked back over and saw that Jingle was curled up under the dining room table, looking over at her. She took a handful of his food kernels from his bowl and set them in a line leading from about halfway to the table, and the bowl, and then returned to her spot.
“Come here, Jingle. I won’t hurt you.” She tapped her leg. “Come on. Come get your breakfast.”
All breakfast preparation stopped as Jingle slowly stood up from where he was and started to tentatively step out. He approached the first kernel in the line and chomped it up, then took to the next piece. He continued through the line until he finally got to the last one, and to my utter surprise, he dove into his food with Celia sitting just behind the bowl. She stuck out her hand and he sniffed it a few times, then continued eating as she began to nuzzle his head.
“Wow. I’m… truly impressed,” I said. “He doesn’t usually take to people. Even my dad he stays away from.”
“Well, I have a certain knack for dealing with the difficult,” she responded.
“Was that a comment on me?” I asked with a smirk.
She just shook her head but there was amusement on her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I made us a couple of omelets for breakfast, after which point Celia went to go and take a shower. With her in the bathroom, I went out to my backyard where all of my workout equipment was setup so that I could get a good workout in for the day before I got distracted by the beautiful woman hanging around.
“Ah, so here’s your personal gym.” I was bench pressing when she walked out and stopped so I could sit up and look at her. The way her eyes flared at my bare, sweat-covered torso left an excited feeling in the pit of my gut. I was right to plan for her distracting me again. “I knew you had to have one with those muscles.”
“It always surprises the guys at the club when I tell them I have a gym at home. Just because I’m an accountant, they see more of the intellectual side of me than the physical side.”
Celia put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Doesn’t it suck when people see you for your brain and not your body? It’s like, come on, be a little more shallow please.”
With a snicker, I grabbed a towel to wipe my face, and Celia walked over and straddled the bench of the bench press, facing me. She let her fingers dance along my pecs for a moment before trailing them up my shoulder and eventually behind my neck. With a little tug, she pulled me to her, and I relented, leaning in to bring our lips together. My hands slid under the base of her dress, exactly as they had the night before and she laughed against my mouth.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. I squeezed down on her thigh and she yelped. “Okay! I was just thinking it’s kind of crazy how quickly you get me going. I have to leave for work, so I was like ‘Don’t let him get you, Celia,’ but here we are.”
I frowned. “Work? It’s a Sunday.”
“Yeah, and it’s a homeless shelter,” she replied. “They don’t stop being homeless on Sundays.”
“I guess. Still, don’t go to work. Stay here.”
“What? Just ignore my job and stay here with you all day?” she asked. “Even if it weren’t about the job itself, I need the paycheck.”
“Eh, I’ll take care of you, it’s fine.”
It was meant to be a joke, but Celia’s face got a serious expression all over it and her eyes blinked a few times. At first, I was afraid I’d gone too far, but then a smile crossed her face. “What?” I asked. “Sorry if that joke was too much.”
“No, it…” Her smile grew a little. “I’m always telling the kids at work, ‘It’s okay to let people take care of you. It’s okay to let people take care of you,’ but I’m kind of a control freak.”
“I never would have guessed,” I said flatly.
“Hush,” she snipped back. “Anyway. I take care of my godfather, and I take care of the kids at work. I don’t really let anyone take care of me. I thought I didn’t like it, but when you said it just now, I don’t know, I felt like I could really let you.”
“If you’d let me, I’d do it. Not in that intense, drop-everything-you’re-doing-and-let-me-take-care-of-you kind of way, but I’ll make sure you’re happy. You know, I’m not a romantic, but at the end of the day, when you’ve exhausted all your energy caring about everyone else, then I’ll care about you.”
Celia didn’t respond. She sat staring back at me, and the expression in her eyes was searching, if not a bit scrutinous, like she either thought I was lying or wanted to think that I was. Whatever she’d been through that led her to such a place of mistrust, I wasn’t sure, but I liked her a lot and found myself hoping that she’d let me break that barrier down.
Eventually, after about five minutes of just looking at me, she pecked my lips and said, “So you don’t work weekends? I’d have thought a motorcycle club is on twenty-four-seven.”
“Well, technically it is,” I responded, allowing her to change the subject, “but all of the business Nick likes to take care of is during the week. Weekends are mostly for hanging out with the bar regulars, running the prospects, fellowship.” Nick also reserved the drug runs to the weekends mostly, but that wasn’t information Celia needed. “I’ll probably go by the bar later. You’re welcome to come, although if I’m being totally honest, I’d welcome an excuse not to go.”
“You don’t want to go there? How come?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but Nick’s trying to promote me, and I haven’t really thought it out yet. I know he’s looking for an answer, I just don’t have one yet.”
“He’s trying to promote you?” Celia said overdramatically. “How dare he!” I squeezed her thigh again and she giggled. “Seriously, though. What’s to consider with a promotion?”
“It’s not accounting. He wants to make me VP.”
Celia’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s a huge responsibility.”
“Exactly.”
“So that’s it then? You don’t want the responsibility?” she asked. “No offense, but you seem like the responsible type. That’s probably why he wants you.”
“Maybe, I just don’t know that I’m the man for the job. There are other guys who have been there longer.”
“Do you not care about the club that much?”
That question rendered me speechless for a second. “I care about the club a lot. It means the world to me. It’s not just my job, those guys are like family. I spend more time there than I do at home.”
“Then I don’t get it,” Celia replied. “If you’re up to the task of taking on the responsibility, and you care about the club, and it’s a better job, why wouldn’t you do it?”
Again, I was left without a great answer. What had been so unclear just moments ago suddenly had much more clarity. In the grand scheme of things, Celia and I didn’t actually know one another all that well just yet, but it felt like we’d been together for years. She simply spoke to a part of me that I didn’t think anyone else had access to but me.
It was slightly terrifying.
“So you think I should do it?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t.”
For me, nothing in life had ever been that simple. Maybe it was because Celia was younger, or because she worked in the field she did, but it put her in a much better place to just allow things to be that clean-cut. “Okay,” I said. “I think you’re right. I think I should do it.”
She grinned. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her even closer to me. “I know how I want to celebrate.” I didn’t wait to set my lips against the side of her neck.
Celia let out a soft moan but placed her hands against my shoulders and made a weak attempt to push me off. “I really have to go to work, Harry.”
“No, I don’t think you will.”
As if on cue, Celia’s phone rang. She slipped it out of her pocket, and I didn’t stop kissing along her neck and jawline as she answered it. “Hello?” My hands slid even further up her dress and she used her free hand over the back of her mouth to keep from making too many noises with whomever she was talking to. “Yeah, turns out I don’t feel so well. Can I swap for Thursday?” A smile of victory crossed my face as Celia said, “Thanks. Bye.” She hung up her phone and glared at me. “You’d better make it worth it.”
I stood and lifted her up with ease, slinging her over my shoulder. “Don’t be silly. You know it will be.”
Chapter Nine
Celia
The smile on my face was permanently affixed. My arms wrapped around Harry and his bike rumbling beneath me combined with the day we’d had together, I had to admit I didn’t want to leave Harry behind. The last twenty-four hours had been some of the best I’d ever had in my life, and if it wasn’t Harry absent-mindedly telling me he’d take care of me, it was snuggling with him on the couch with his cats curled in our laps. It all felt so domestic, but it felt amazing. When I finally convinced him to let me leave and bring me back to my old roommate’s apartment, it was not without some mutual disappointment. He made everything worse by throwing on a tight-fitting black t-shirt and light blue jeans with combat boots; he looked good enough to eat.
“If you don’t get off, I’m gonna ride away with you attached to me,” Harry said.
My gut reaction was to tell him to do it. I could go to Hoppa’s with him, spend the rest of the night with him there, and then go home with him. Just thinking about it made me inexplicably happy, but my godfather was waiting for me, and had been calling me nonstop for the past few hours, so I had to at least make an appearance and calm him down.
Despite my body desperately fighting against me, I released my hands from around Harry’s waist and dragged myself off his idling bike. I tried returning his spare helmet, but he pushed it back into my hands.
“Keep it. Hopefully, you’ll be wearing it a lot,” he said with a smile.
It was like I was a teenager in high school again and my crush had just given me his letterman jacket. Butterflies fluttered through my stomach as I walked up the path and through the front door of the apartment complex. When I was safely inside, I watched Harry pull his own helmet back on and roar off down the street. I missed him the second he was gone, but my phone rang again in my pocket and snapped me back to attention.
Laura was probably out for the night, so I didn’t bother going up to her apartment, and instead walked out back to the complex’s parking lot and got in my own car to head home.
My cheeks hurt from the smile on my face, but I didn’t think anything of it until I was walking into my house and my godfather was staring at me with a snarl.
“What?” I asked.
“What’s that smile? Don’t tell me that’s because of Harry?”
Although I was something of a practiced liar, hiding anything from my godfather was borderline impossible. Still, I murmured, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” as if it was going to work, but the second I tried to pass him, he wheeled into my path, nearly running me over in the process. “Hey!”
“Have you forgotten what we’re doing here?” he asked. “Everything we’re fighting for? Your poor father? How do you think he’d feel knowing you’re falling for the man who murdered him?”
“I’m not falling for him.”
He shifted in his chair, a little more than I thought possible, but it was probably just my rising frustration. “I’ve never seen that look on your face before. Do you think I’m dumb? That I don’t know what it looks like when my own godchild is developing feelings for someone? You’re normally even-toned, smirking just like your dad. I’ve seen you around other men before, and none of ’em make you smile like that.”
“So, what, you want me to be miserable?” I spat all of a sudden. “I have to do this. I’m doing what we have to in order to get back at him, can I not have a little fun as I do it?”
“Fun?” Darrien asked. “Are you having fun?”
The thick judgment in his voice knocked any cheer straight out of me. Was I having fun? With the man who killed my father? What was I thinking? “No…”
Darrien wheeled his way over to the kitchen counter and picked up a box that already had emotions rising in my throat. He set it in his lap and opened it briefly to pull out an article and handed it over to me. I’d read it half a dozen times or more, but that never stopped it from hurting as I looked down at it. It was my father’s obituary, the one that had been published in the wake of the accident that had killed him.
“Road rage ended a good man’s life,” was written in bolded letters at the beginning of the obituary. The thing was, I’d been on Harry’s bike a lot in the past few days and he was an even more patient driver than I was. It almost would have helped to see Harry’s road rage act out while we were together, but he didn’t often put himself in road rage situations.
Of course, that could be because the last time he let his emotions get the best of him, my father died.
“Our car flipped over nine times,” Darrien said. “Your father was dead before they even pulled us out of the car. He was talking about you right before we got hit. How proud he was of you and how he knew you were going to do big things with your life. Poor guy didn’t even get to be here to see you succeed. He raised you alone after your mother left and this is how you’re repaying him? By sleeping with the enemy?”
