I just wanted all of it to be over. No, that wasn’t true. I wanted to take back the last three days as if they’d never happened. I wanted to go over to my dad’s house and plop down on his couch and let him make me dinner. I wanted to watch Jeopardy and call out the answers a half second after my dad did. I wanted to scoot across the couch and under his armpit that always smelled like Old Spice deodorant.
I covered my mouth with my hand and let out a painful sob.
Why was this happening?
Nothing had prepared me for the Twilight Zone I was currently caught in.
I glanced over my shoulder, making sure the door to Will’s room was closed, and let another sob tear from my throat. Squeezing my eyes shut, I bent over the duffle bag, curling around my broken arm like I could hide it. Like I could pretend it wasn’t there.
My nose clogged and snot ran down my lip as as I let the tears pour out of my eyes. I couldn’t even be bothered to wipe it. I couldn’t do anything but try to catch my breath as I wailed quietly. It was ugly. Terrible. My face contorted, making me cry harder as my swollen lip cracked and my cheekbone throbbed.
I just needed a minute. Just a minute to myself so I could let it all out. All of the barbed wire fear and the shark infested memories. I needed to purge it.
I choked and gagged as I raised my sleeve to my face, trying to wipe the snot away. I had to leave in less than an hour. I couldn’t stay there on the floor. But every time I tried to stem my cries, my chest heaved in agony and I couldn’t stop.
“Molly?” Amy’s voice finally called as she opened the door. “Oh, sweetheart.”
I ignored her as she closed the door behind her, flipping the lock. I should have done that.
“It’s too much,” I whispered, hiccupping and coughing.
“It’s not,” Amy said, dropping to her knees beside me. “Just feels like it is.”
“I want to go home,” I blubbered. “But I’m afraid to be there. I know they weren’t looking for me, but I’m still scared they’re going to come back.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Amy said seriously.
“I miss my dad. I want my dad.” I sounded like a baby. I didn’t care.
“Oh, Molly,” Amy sighed, moving to her ass and wrapping her arm around my waist. “I remember that feeling. I lived with Patrick’s mum for most of my adult life, did you know that?” I shook my head. “Yeah, well, I did. When she passed, it felt like a part of myself was suddenly missing. The comfort of a parent—especially when you’re a single parent yourself—is indescribable.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” I whispered, leaning my head on her thin shoulder.
“You’ll figure it out,” she replied, reaching up to smooth my hair back from my face. “I promise.”
“Molly?” Will called from the other side of the door, slamming his hand against it. “Why’s this door locked?”
“We’re havin’ some girl talk!” Amy bellowed back, making me snort. “Go away!”
“Open the door, old woman,” Will said, no disrespect in his voice. “I’m taking off and I wanna see my girl before I go.”
My stomach sank. “I’m not his girl,” I murmured to Amy.
“Pretty sure I felt like that at one point, too,” she replied with a conspiratorial wink. Then she got to her feet and went to unlock the door.
“What’s goin’ on?” Will asked accusingly, inhaling sharply when he saw me on the floor.
“Keep your head down,” Amy said quietly to Will.
“Nah. Want ’em to see me,” he replied distractedly, kissing her cheek before she left us alone.
“I was having a pity party,” I said once he’d closed the door behind him. “I’m okay now.”
“You don’t look okay, baby.”
“Leftovers from the party,” I said with a sniffle, my eyes tearing up again.
“Moll,” he said softly, dropping to his knees in front of me. “What can I do?”
His fingers came up to softly cup the sides of my face, and that only made the tears come harder. I’d known this man for so long. I’d recognize his light brown eyes anywhere. Could draw his tattoos by memory and point out the exact spot he had a cowlick, even if he was shaved bald. It didn’t matter how long we went without seeing each other, I knew him instinctively.
He’d been such a prick before. It was so hard to trust him, especially when he looked at me the way he was then. He’d looked at me that way before, and after he’d left, I’d convinced myself that it hadn’t meant anything. I’d been wrong. It meant everything.
He didn’t complete me. I was complete on my own. But he seemed to fit me like an interlocking best friend’s necklace. Since I’d come to the clubhouse, his side had been the only place that I’d felt like myself. The only spot where I’d been able to relax my guard and rest. The only place I’d felt even close to okay.
I didn’t want him to leave. I was afraid for him to go. I didn’t care how codependent that made me.
“I’m okay,” I lied, giving him a watery smile. “I have to get ready to go to my appointment.”
“You’re gonna be late,” he said with a crooked smile.
“It’s not like they can start without me,” I choked out as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine.
“My nose is running,” I pointed out softly. I was pretty sure if my face hadn’t already been black and blue, my blush would have been out of control when he chuckled.
He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and lifted it, wiping my nose gently.
“I can do it,” I protested, raising my hand for the piece of cloth.
“Done already,” he said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at me. “Now you gonna let me kiss you?”
“Careful,” I warned as I leaned forward.
“Always careful with you, sugar,” he murmured into my mouth. I inhaled sharply at the feel of his tongue barely touching mine. I hadn’t needed to warn him. He was ridiculously careful as he kissed me, barely making any contact at all.
But I still lit up like a Christmas tree. Not turned on, really. It was more of a warm feeling. Comfort. Love.
“I’ll help you get dressed,” Will said after he’d pulled back too soon. “Come on.”
He helped me to my feet, then helped me take my t-shirt off, barely ogling my boobs as he slid my bra up my arms and reached around me to hook it in the back.
“I hope you appreciated that,” he said dryly as he helped me put a clean shirt on. “Because I’m hard as a rock.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or disgusted that you’re into girls whose faces look like ground beef.”
“Number one,” he said as he crouched and jerked my pants down my hips, making me yelp out a small laugh, tears still leaking slowly out of my eyes. “I’m not into girls. I’m into you. Even if you look like you went a couple a rounds with George Foreman.”
I curled my hand into a familiar rude gesture, then wiped beneath my eyes with my middle finger.
“Number two,” he said, laughter in his voice. “I can’t imagine a scenario when you wouldn’t get me hard. Believe me, I’ve tried. You’re even hot as a zombie.”
“You’re so weird,” I replied, smiling as he pulled down my underwear and groaned. “I can do that, you know.”
“I’ll do it,” he replied, taking a deep breath like he was bracing himself. I lifted each foot so he could pull the pajama pants and underwear away, then did it again when he held out a clean pair of panties. “Because I’m obviously a masochist.”
As soon as I was dressed, Will got to his feet with an exaggerated sound of relief. “Number three,” he said quietly, tipping my head up.
“What’s number three?” I asked when he was silent for a long time.
“I don’t remember,” he replied, huffing out a laugh. He kissed me again, a little harder than the last time. “I have to go,” he reminded me when he was done. “Walk me out?”
&n
bsp; I nodded and let him lead me out into the main part of the clubhouse, where there was a crowd of couples saying their goodbyes. Dragon’s lips were tipped up in a small grin at Brenna as she talked a mile a minute. Grease was kissing Mrs. Hawthorne in a way that made Will scoff in disgust. Cam was lifting Trix off the floor until her legs were wrapped around his waist, and I could hear him chuckle as Trix tipped her head down, her long hair shielding their faces.
Something about the tableau made my insides clench, but I couldn’t pinpoint what bothered me about it.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Will told me as he pulled me forward. “Quick trip.”
“I’ll be here,” I said, meeting his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good news,” he murmured with a grin. “Got a lot to talk about.”
I didn’t reply because he was suddenly hugging me, his lips at my throat. “Text me and let me know how the appointment goes,” he said against my skin.
I nodded as I felt my bottom lip tremble. I was glad he couldn’t see my face as I tried really hard not to cry. My hands shook as I rested the unhurt one on his waist, the cool leather of his cut smooth against my palm.
He stepped back and kissed my lips quickly.
As he pulled away, it was as if his entire body changed. The boy I’d known my entire life morphed into a stranger. I stared as he straightened his shoulders, tightened his upper body and let his face fall into a hard, emotionless mask. I knew in an instant that I was looking at the other side of Will. The side that my dad had warned me about and I’d never seen before. This was the Ace. The outlaw. The criminal.
He looked just like his dad and I finally understood why Grease made me nervous. There was the leashed violence just underneath the surface of both men.
Oddly, it didn’t scare me anymore. I didn’t fear Will at all.
With one last glance at my face, he turned and walked toward the group across the room. When he reached them, the couples broke apart and, as a unit, the men strode out the doorway.
I startled when Mel was suddenly at my side. “Did you see that?” I asked quietly as the women started bustling around.
“Yeah,” Mel replied. “It’s like they’re going off to war.”
My eyes widened. Oh, my God.
I didn’t hesitate. I was practically running for the door before Mel had finished speaking. When I got outside, I was too late.
Seven bikes were rolling away, single file down the long driveway. The gates were swung open as the first bike reached them, and without slowing, the bikes pulled onto the main road, quickly disappearing from view.
“You ready to go?” Amy asked as she followed me outside.
I didn’t answer her right away. I was too busy staring blankly at the last place I’d seen Will’s bike. Fourth in line. Three men in front of him, three behind him.
“I need to say goodbye to Rebel first,” I finally responded, turning slowly back toward the door.
“He’ll be okay,” Amy said as I reached the door. There was something in her voice. A surety. She knew exactly what was going on.
I nodded, but didn’t say anything else as I went back inside.
“Hey, Mrs. Hawthorne,” I called, interrupting her conversation with Farrah.
“Call me Callie,” she said with an easy smile. It wasn’t quite convincing. “You’re an adult and we aren’t at school.”
“I’ll try.”
“What’s up?” she asked. I glanced at Farrah, whose face was completely emotionless.
“Mel’s going to stay with Rebel, so you don’t have to keep her,” I replied. “But thank you anyway.”
“Sure. I didn’t mind.”
“Molly, we better hit it or they’re gonna make you reschedule,” Amy called.
“Thanks anyway,” I said again with a smile before turning and moving toward Rebel. She was on Mel’s lap, signing something quickly. I think she was talking about the donut Will had given her the day before. I usually didn’t let her eat that crap. I was trying to teach her healthy eating habits, since obesity was something we’d always have to fight against. At some point, she was going to be an adult and I wouldn’t be able to make all of her choices for her.
“Hey, Reb,” I said, catching her attention as I reached them. “Mama’s gotta go to the doctor. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“No,” Rebel said, her brow furrowing. “No.”
“Yep,” I answered cheerfully, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“No!” she yelled, almost pulling me off balance when she suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around my neck.
“Rebel, stop,” I said calmly, reaching up with my good hand to try and pry her arms away from my neck. I was bent in half and every time she jerked against me, she slammed into my bad arm, making my vision go spotty from the pain shooting up from the break. “Rebel, let go,” I said again, almost panicking.
“Rebel,” Mel said sternly. “Let go right now.”
Reb shook her head against my neck and I sighed, pulling her against me instead of away. My arm felt like it was on fire, but I ignored it as she pressed up against me.
“I’ll be back in just a little while,” I said softly, sitting down next to Mel with a feeling of relief. For a moment, I’d thought I was going to hit the floor.
“Mama,” Reb mumbled against my throat, exhaling loudly as her body relaxed against me.
I sniffed as I shifted her onto my lap. She was freaked out. I didn’t blame her.
“You’re going to stay with Auntie Mel,” I said softly, slowly swaying from side to side. “And I bet she’ll turn on Elmo for you.”
“No,” Rebel said again.
“I’m only going to be gone for a little bit,” I tried again. Negotiating wasn’t going to work, I knew that before I even tried. But I really didn’t want to leave her when she was freaking out. If I was feeling scared and overwhelmed, it must have been a thousand times worse for Rebel. She didn’t have the words to explain what she was feeling. She didn’t have the same outlet I did. Everything just built and built inside her until she couldn’t take it anymore.
I glanced at Mel, then closed my eyes. “How about Auntie Mel takes you for some ice cream?” I asked, playing the only trump card I had.
I wanted to stay there comforting her for as long as she needed, but I had to get to the hospital for my appointment. I couldn’t leave my arm the way it was any longer.
“Ice,” Rebel said, drawing the s sound out. She leaned back a little to look at the side of my face, but didn’t let go of my neck. “Mama.”
“Mama can’t go today,” I said softly, rubbing her back in light circles. Too much pressure would set her off again. “But Auntie Mel can.”
One of Rebel’s hands left the hold on my neck, and came forward slowly, her fingers running through my hair. My throat tightened as she twirled a piece around her finger. People often asked me how I did it. Other parents who showed up to therapy because their doctors suspected that their child was on the spectrum. They always looked so afraid, like their lives were going to change with that single diagnosis.
I never understood the question. Not really. How did I do what, exactly? How did I love my child? Easily. How did I deal with the occasional outbursts? Probably like every other parent who had a three year old. She was just Rebel. The baby I’d grown from an egg so small it was invisible to the human eye.
Sometimes she couldn’t meet my eyes, and sometimes she completely refused to talk or sign, and sometimes I had to call her name fourteen times before I caught her attention.
She also had a husky laugh that came from deep in her gut, and was impossible to resist. She liked boy singers, every one of them, from Hunter Hayes to Shawn Mendes. There was something about their voices that she clicked with. I’d cried the first time I’d caught her humming along.
She liked to play with my hair, but didn’t like me to brush hers unless I used a specific brush. She said Mama with reverence,
as if she didn’t know any word that she liked better. She wrinkled her nose when she stole a drink of soda, and it usually made her sneeze.
She was everything. She filled me to the brim with every emotion possible, then made them spill over with a giggle.
“Ice,” she said finally, her eyes darting to mine before she let go of me.
“I’ll see you soon, princess,” I said in relief as Mel plucked Rebel off my lap.
I barely remembered to grab my keys and wallet as I rushed out of the room before she could change her mind. I stopped outside the door where Rebel couldn’t see me, and waited for a minute, then started walking again when I didn’t hear her start to fuss. Success.
“You’re good with her,” Amy said a few moments later as she led me to her car.
“I do my best,” I replied ruefully, climbing in and buckling up. “Not sure how well I’m actually doing.”
“We all think that,” Amy mused, turning the car on.
“You have kids?” I asked in surprise as she whipped the car around and started down the driveway.
“Just a son,” she said, smiling at the boys who opened the gate for us. “He lives up in Portland.”
“He’s not a biker, then?” I said dryly, relaxing back into my seat.
“Oh, he is.” She smiled, pulling out onto the road. “He’s just not an Ace.”
“That must be a relief,” I blurted without thinking, snapping my mouth shut when Amy raised an eyebrow.
“Not really,” she said. “He was beaten in an alleyway once.”
“Oh, no,” I murmured.
“Patrick and the boys took care of it,” she said softly, glancing at me before focusing back on the road. “But if he’d been wearing a cut, he probably wouldn’t have been attacked in the first place.”
Craving Molly (The Aces' Sons #2) Page 21
