Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos Book 5)

by Shyla Colt

  Lisa snickers. “Yeah. I think it’s a part of the outlaw biker creed. But I can see this is getting to you. You don’t have to do this, Blanche. Any one of us at the center will be happy to take him on.”

  “He won’t thrive. Not yet.”

  “You can’t wrap the man in bubble wrap. He’ll have to deal with everything eventually.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing, Lis. He’s been through a lot, he’s a fighter, but he’s also very particular about who he places his trust in, for good reasons.”

  “You’ve always been stubborn.”

  “But when it comes to my patients, I’m always right about what they need.”

  “Yes, but at times it comes at your own expense. Henceforth your burn out.”

  “Yes, but this time I’m fighting for my life.”

  “Oh my, God.” The blood drains from her face. “Did they threaten you?”

  I laugh. “Girl, not literally.”

  “What! I didn’t know. They scare the piss out of me.”

  “The life I want with, Jagger. I have to show him it’s possible to have everything we wanted.”

  “Yeah and maybe part of you still feels guilty?”

  “Can you stop being perceptive,” I scoff.

  “Uh-huh. Swimming in dangerous waters, woman.”

  “I have Dr. Adams to tell me that. Don’t you start too.” I throw back the whiskey and enjoy the burn.

  “I just worry about you.”

  “I know, and I love you for that. I’m going to be fine. We’ll make it or fall apart, but either way, he’s going to be prepared for his new life when we’re finished.”

  She hugs me. “I’m here if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Lis.”

  “Walk me out? I have a hot date with the hubs.”

  “You two are so cute you make me sick.”

  She laughs as we move away from the bar and I lead her out to the door that now has a ramp.

  “You did a great job with this house.”

  “Yeah, I had a lot of help from this really awesome place called SCI Center. Maybe you’ve heard of it before?”

  “Oh, yeah, I think I did.” She bumps me with her hip, and I pause in the doorway waving as she continues to her car, climbs in and drives away, leaving me to wrestle my demons alone.

  I return to the breakfast nook with my drink and marvel at how different our life looks after nearly a year together. We’ve been through more than most married couples experience in a lifetime. Surely we can survive this. I pick up my phone and place the call I promised to make.

  “Hey, B.”

  “Hey, Jess.”

  “So tomorrow’s the big day?”

  “Yeah, and I’m scared.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What if we can’t get through this? What if he hates me because I’m too hard on him?”

  “Will you let up?”

  “No. He needs this.”

  “And you’re willing to put your relationship on the line?”

  “To give him his life back? Yes.”

  “Then you’ve already made your mind up. Only thing to do now is follow through.”

  “I know,” I whisper.

  “For what it’s worth, I think you’re giving him too little credit. Set boundaries right off the bat. When you’re in the rehab center you’re not his woman, you’re his Physical Therapist, and he’s your patient. When you’re outside of that, you’re just Jagger and Blanche.”

  “We both know spill over is bound to happen.”

  “Yes, but I know you plan to eventually get him to work with other therapists, so you’re trying to hold out and get him to that point.”

  “It’s true. Is that awful?”

  “No, I think it’s brave of you to do.”

  “Remind me of that when I’m trying not to choke him out.”

  “I’ve seen you work magic with people. Now will be no different, and if anyone deserves their happy ending, it’s you two. Does he know you’ve been in touch with his mom?”

  “Umm no, one crisis at a time. I didn’t want her to think he’d given up on her. I keep her in the loop, that’s all.”

  “Uh huh. You know if I was into that sort of thing I’d have married you a long time.”

  “And we’d be well-dressed and blissfully happy,” I agree. “Speaking of happy. Any dating partners on the horizon?”

  “I wish I could tell you yes. Slim pickings here, sister.”

  “Boo. You need to come visit soon. You can enchant someone here and inspire them to move.”

  “You say the sweetest things, B.”

  I smirk. “I speak the truth. Men flock to you.”

  “But they never stay,” she whispers. The sadness in her voice makes my heart ache.

  “I’m sorry, babe. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to.”

  “Some days I wonder. Maybe I was meant to be alone? Maybe that’s the price to pay for being so driven?”

  “I don’t think I buy that. One shouldn’t cancel out the other.” I wish I could wave a wand and make the right man appear in her life. I can hear the loneliness in her voice, and it slays me. She’s too beautiful inside and out to have such a difficult time finding a mate.

  “Grandma would say I need to stop looking and he’ll find me.”

  “And what do you say?” I ask.

  “I say, I’m not leaving my destiny up to anyone else.”

  I chuckle. “So, don’t. It’ll work out how it’s supposed to.”

  “From your lips to the universe,” she says.

  “How’s everything in town?”

  “Good. The shop’s doing well. I’ve added clothing to the California line. They’re eating it up.”

  “I knew they would,” I say.

  “Truth be told, I’ve toyed with the thought of opening a second shop.”

  “Really? That’s exciting. Where?”

  “Oh, California.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask.

  “No, I miss you, and it’s time for expansion. I think a little Southern flare would fit well out there if I could find the right location.”

  “Whatever you need me to do to help you, I’m there. Oh, my God. I want you here in the worst way.”

  “It’s a thought now, but I’ve been looking into it.”

  “You’ll keep me posted?”

  “Of course, darling,” she says rolling her r.

  The thought of having my best friend a short drive away chases away my anxiety about Jagger’s return. We sink into our easy banter as we continue to play catch up and time slips away.

  ***

  Everyone is waiting in the backyard as we pull up to the driveway.

  “Why are all the bikes here?” Jagger asks.

  “Well, they wanted to welcome you home.”

  The temperature in the car drops.

  “You didn’t want them to? I’ve kept them away from the hospital, J, but I couldn’t come up with a reason for them not to be here now. You can’t hide away from them forever.”

  “You have no clue what this feels like.”

  “So tell me,” I say quietly.

  He growls. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Okay.” I park the car and move to the back to get his wheelchair out of the trunk as I count to ten. The anger is normal, but trying. I’m excited to have him home, and he’s hung up on the brothers who came to show him their support. I set the lightweight, portable sports wheelchair up beside him. I went with a model that would go over all terrain. I wanted to get him out of the house and sun eventually. I angle the chair, place the cushion on the seat, set the breaks and hang back, waiting to allow him the opportunity to transfer himself.

  “B. I don’t want to
do this when they might be watching me from the window.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Blanche,” he snaps.

  “You have to learn to do this on your own.” I lower my voice. “I promise you, if I didn’t think you were ready, I wouldn’t push. It’s just like you practiced in therapy. Get your gloves on.” I wait patiently until he complies. “Now put your transfer cloth down over the floor and frame, place your legs on the ground, move your body to the edge of the seat, find your leverage, and move your body.”

  I hold my breath as he moves his frame to the edge, and picks up one of his legs. The grimace tells me he’s still working on accepting them. Still, he places them on the ground, scoots to the edge, and makes the shaky transfer.

  “Great job, J.”

  “I’m not a dog,” he snarls as he throws the transfer sheet back into the car and I flinch.

  “Never said you were,” I whisper, hurt. Don’t take it personally. But don’t be his punching bag. “I’m here to help and encourage, that’s it.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting this. To see them all so soon.”

  “It’s overdue.” I unlock the breaks, move him back and close the door before I push him across the yard and up the ramp. “Remember they love you and they’re excited to see you. You set the tone, and they’ll follow your lead.” I set the breaks, unlock the door.

  A cheer goes up through the crowded space, and I pray he makes it through the next couple of hours.

  “Look what the little B drug in,” Stone booms.

  I lock the door behind me and wait to see if he’ll take over. When he doesn’t, I push him down to where they’re all waiting and slowly retreat to give him time with the men coming up one by one to speak with him.

  “Hey you, long time no see,” Dixie Rose says.

  “I know, how the hell are you?” I ask as we hug.

  “I’m doing good. How are you?”

  “Exhausted, but so glad to have him home,” I say softly.

  “I bet.”

  Blue comes over with a grin and a chatty eight-month-old. She kisses my cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Same. Hey, Miss Delphine,” I say playing with her tiny hands. I adore the dimpled cutie pie.

  “How’s he doing?” Blue asks nodding toward the circular wall surrounding him.

  “He has his good days and bad days.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” Blue whispers.

  “It’s a lot of adjustment, and it’s all still fresh. I’m glad he has so much support.”

  “Shadow wanted to stop by and see him, but Stone said he wasn’t up to visitors?”

  “He needed the time to wrap his head around everything I think.”

  “Thank God he has you,” Dixie Rose says.

  I hope she’s right.

  I grab a coke and continue to mingle. I catch up with Nevada when I hear the beeping alarm. I swiftly make my way over to the cluster of men. I catch J’s gaze, and the worry in his eyes fades.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow my Old Man for a minute,” I say with a wink. I push him off to our room and the connecting bathroom. It’s important for his bathroom habits he sticks to a schedule. That means draining the urine bag strapped to his leg and hidden by pants regularly, so it doesn’t overflow. I pull the box of rubber gloves from under the sink, and he unbuckles his pants and lifts up. I help him ease his pants and boxers down, and he retreats inside himself.

  “J, this is a part of you, and it’s okay.”

  “How can you say that when you’re handling my piss?”

  “Well, why don’t you do it?”

  He gives a quick shake of his head. “And get it all over myself with everyone here?”

  “Next time,” I say firmly. I’m going to drag him kicking and screaming toward competency.

  I empty the bag into the toilet and flush.

  “All done.” Remove the gloves, pitch them in the garbage, and wash my hands before I help him replace the bag and his pants.

  “Alright handsome, you’re ready to go.”

  “How can you say that after what you just did?” The self-loathing and anger make my heart ache.

  “Hey.” I grip his chin. “You still love me?”

  “Fuck, B. Of course.”

  “That’s how I can say that.” I brush our lips. He tenses. I tease his lips with the tip of my tongue, and he relaxes yielding to me. My heart knocks against my chest as I slant my head and taste him. It’s been so long since we connected on this level. I hum. He sucks my tongue into his mouth, and I cream my panties. It’s still there between us, that heat. Laughter breaks out in the other room, and we part reluctantly. I groan. “Can’t we just stay here until they show themselves out?”

  He laughs, and I realize how long it’s been since I’ve seen him look happy. I run my fingers through his thick hair and rest our foreheads together.

  “I love you.”

  I pull back shocked. “I love you too, J.”

  He smiles, and I see the man I first fell for. We’ll get through this together.

  ***

  “Oh God.”

  The despondent moan pulled me from sleep.

  “Huh. Wha. What’s wrong?” I whisper as I roll over onto my side to face Jagger.

  “I can’t do this shit, B. I’m like a fucking infant.” He slams his fist against the bed, and I feel it. The wetness that’s traveled across the sheets. He sticks to an eating schedule and stops fluids around eight o’clock, but sometimes accidents will still happen with the catheter.

  “Hey, it’s alright that’s why we have extra padding down.”

  “It’s not okay. How can I be your man when I can’t even handle my bathroom shit, huh?”

  I click on the light and turn to him. “Things like this are going to happen, and it is okay. I know you’re upset, but you’re doing everything you’re supposed to do. You have your routine, you stop drinking at night, but the body sometimes does what it wants, and neither of us is going to get overly worked up over that.

  “You say that calmly as you sit in my urine.”

  I place my hand on his arm. “You know how many times I’ve been peed on in my life? I’m a mom.” I wink.

  He snatches his arm away from me. “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s laugh or cry at this point, and I’m tired of tears, and pain, aren’t you?”

  “I hate this.” He spits the words out with enough venom to kill.

  “I know you do. I wish there was more I can do to help you.”

  He meets my gaze. “This really doesn’t bother you?”

  “It bothers me that it upsets you so much. I guess I’m just used to this. I’ve worked within this field for so long, I accept it as a fact of life. Come on, let’s get the bed cleaned up and then clean ourselves.” I move from the bed, careful to keep my face neutral. He follows my lead scooting out of bed onto his chair. I toss the pillows onto the floor and pull off the bedding.

  “You take it to the washer and get it started, and I’ll replace the linens?”

  “Deal.”

  Another hurtle down between us. The minute he disappears, I deflate and choke on subs, I can’t release. He’s such a proud man; these set-backs are a kick to the gut. He’s been progressing well. Dear God, please don’t let this be a setback. This won’t be the last time this will happen, short of him wearing adult diapers. There’s no perfect science to regulating this type of thing. I return my attention to adding fresh padding and clean sheets. Once I hear the washer going, I turn on the shower, position his shower chair, and step out to see him rolling into the room. His shoulders are slumped, and his gaze is aimed at the ground, giving him a defeated air about him. I blink and notice he’s nude. His chest is more defined from our PT regimen. I w
ant to lick my way down his six pack, bury my fingers in his hair, and ride his cock. There’s been a question on how much the injury affected him sexually, but no time to explore.

  “Come on, let’s get into the shower.” My voice is husky, and my hormones are raging.

  He opens his mouth and I can already hear the protest. I pull the shirt over my head, and slip out of my boxer shorts, silencing him. His jaw drops, and his hazel gaze turns to molten lava. Gooseflesh covers my body. My nipples harden, and my center pulses. He hasn’t looked at me this way since the accident. I crook my finger.

  “Come.”

  He wheels into the bathroom and I step inside the shower to give him time to handle his catheter in private. I hear the sink run, and I know he’s washing his hands. A few moment later, he makes the shift from chair to the bath chair.

  “Hi,” I whisper.

  His lips quirk upward. “Hi.”

  I grab the ocean body wash, squeeze a dollop into my hand and walk over to rub it over his body his eyelids lower to half-mast, and I lick my lips. “You’re so hot right now,” I whisper as I scrape my nails down his pecs. His muscles jerk and I bend to kiss his lips as I wash away the painful memory of what happened.

  “Give me some of that expensive shit so I can return the favor.”

  His gravelly voice makes me laugh. For a minute we’re just Jagger and Blanche happy to be together as we take turns cleaning each other off. Scrubbed clean, and warm from the spray, I move in for more kisses, he moans into my mouth and rubs his thumbs over my nipples. Tingles shoot through my body. He rolls the stiff peaks between his finger, and I whimper against his lips. He slips his tongue into my mouth and straddle his legs and lower into his lap. I gasp at the hardness press against my pussy. I suck his finger into my mouth, and he moans.

  “Oh fuck.”

  “You like that?”

  “Shit yes.”

  I continue to suck on him, treating his finger like I would his prick. He groans his approval as he tugs at my nipples. I run my hand up his chest and flick his nipple. He growls.

  “So sensitive,” I whisper relearning the new erroneous zones of his body. “J?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look down,” I whisper.

  He peers down between us and his breath hitches. “I’m hard.”

  “Yes, you are.”