“Capone, that’s not fair to you. What if it takes me years? What if I’m never ready? Because I’ve gotta tell ya, the thought of being intimate with a man again is not only scary as fuck to me, but kinda repulsive as well.”
“Sweetheart, however long it takes. And what you endured wasn’t intimacy, not by a long shot. Intimacy is knowing what your partner likes to drink and making sure it’s always available, or how they take their coffee and making their first cup when you get up. It’s noticing that their shampoo is low and picking it up on the way home. Or planning a special meal because it’s a crazy anniversary, like the first time you kissed. It’s seeing that they’re having a hard day and running a bath then ordering take-out, so they don’t have to cook. It’s rubbing their feet if they’ve been on them all day. Intimacy is about so much more than sex. How do you think couples who’ve been married for fifty or sixty years keep going? Because sometimes, the sex part isn’t possible any more due to their health or age. Yet they love and dote on one another just the same. So no, you’ve never been intimate with anyone. You’ve been forced to have sex with people you wouldn’t have chosen on your own. There’s a big fucking difference.” His voice never changes while he’s saying this, but I can see the banked anger in the back even as I see the passion for what he’s saying shining through.
And I feel...hope. Hope, what a beautiful word and concept, one he now has made me think about and no one has been able to do that before him. Not all of the hours of therapy, not speaking with my sister and the old ladies, no one. How does he do that? I wish with all of my might, that I’ll grow into the kind of person who can make him happy. I’d like to have a future with him, but I still have that fear, something I’ll need to overcome before I can even think about moving forward with him in any capacity. Who am I to say what he needs and wants in a life partner? All I know is it will take a lot of work to get on the path of redemption for me. One that will take a lot of hours and will be mentally and emotionally draining. But Dr. Rawlings has said time and again, that this would be a fight for me, but if I was willing to work and put in the tears and sweat, it would be worth it in the end. That little flicker he sparked in me grows a tiny bit and I smile. For the first time in a long time, I’m allowing my smile to be directed at someone who isn’t my sister. Maybe things are changing inside of me after all.
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” I ask him.
He grins at me and nods. “Yeah, we will. Now c’mon, I’ve missed y’all and wanna catch up.” Without thinking, he grabs my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. I’m shocked at first at the contact because this isn’t something I’ve ever had. There was a spark of recognition, from my body to his. The electricity buzzing between us is unlike anything I’ve ever thought of or have heard of. The customers I had didn’t hold my hands. They may have tied me up or cuffed me, but they never held my hand. I like this. A lot. He’s right, intimacy is a variation of different scenarios and feelings.
Capone
As we walk to the back in order to get outside, I can’t hide my grin. She didn’t pull away and in fact, seems to be relishing the fact I’m holding her hand. Then it hits me. She was put into that life at seventeen, likely before she started the whole teenage dating scene. I need to reach out to Dr. Rawlings for my own appointment because I think I know how I have to handle building this relationship now. She may feel she’s jaded by what she’s done, but she’s never experienced any of the normal teenage firsts -- first kiss, first love, first time making love. A mental plan in place, I open the door and allow her to go through, placing my hand on her lower back. By the time I get us to that point, I may have gone through a million gallons of cold water and countless bottles of lube. But she will see herself as I do -- like a precious gem, hardened by life into the most gorgeous, sparkling item in the world. At least, in my world.
Once we’re outside, everyone stops and stares at us. I look over at Smokey who’s got his eyebrows raised. He looks at our hands and looks back up at me in question. I give a slight shake of my head to let him know to keep his mouth zipped. I don’t know why she allowed me to hold her hand, but right now, I’m running with it. If any of these fuckers say a word to cause her to pull away, I may kill them.
She doesn’t notice anything amiss, so I walk us toward the drink table. “You want one of those margarita things you women seem to enjoy so much?” I ask. I’ve seen her have one in her hand before. She usually only sips on her drinks, but I’d like to see her let loose for once and enjoy herself.
“Oh, if it’s the recipe that DJ has, then yes, please,” she replies, smiling up at me. Her smile is something I’ll fight to see every day for the rest of my life if she’ll let me.
“You go sit with the old ladies, Bridge, and I’ll bring it to you, okay?” I ask.
“Thanks, Capone.” she says, with a cute half-smile on her face. I’m so fucked and we haven’t even so much as kissed yet. I’m sure once I have a taste of her, my fall will be complete. Ha, as if it isn’t already.
“Anytime, Bridge. One day, you’ll believe me when I say that I’ll do anything for you.”
“Maybe?” she says, in more of a question than an answer in itself.
“We’ll get you there,” I say to her.
“Here’s to hoping,” she states, raising the glass I just got her while looking at me. I grab a beer from the cooler, pop the top off, and clink my glass to her red solo cup. It feels great doing something so normal with her, because this is progress as far as I’m concerned. She usually shies away from everything, so it’s good to see her fitting in and feeling comfortable with herself. I am happy to see she’s taking a step in the right direction of healing. It’s going to be a long hard battle, but one I’ll gladly wear my armor for and fight with her. I can’t slay all of her demons, but I can hold her hand while she battles them herself. And be there when the emotions overwhelm her to hold her as she cries. I know from what I’ve heard that she hasn’t really done much of that so far, but Dr. Rawlings warned me at one point it would happen and to be prepared. I’m thinking it’ll be like a fucking tsunami when it hits.
“You’re almost done with school!” Hannah says, sitting down next to her sister.
“Yes, thank goodness! And now that they’re letting me go onto the salon floor since my bookwork is all done, I’m getting a lot of hands-on experience that’ll prepare me.”
“Oh, we’ll have to have a party when you graduate,” Nan states from her seat. That woman and her parties! Then again, I can’t think of a better group of people to spend time with -- my brothers and their old ladies and all the kids that have come along.
“I...I don’t know, Nan,” she says.
“We’re having a party for you and that’s that,” DJ informs her. I hide my grin because DJ can come across as the biggest ballbuster around, but she’s loyal and loves fiercely. This is evidenced by how she went from being a single mom of one to a married old lady with four kids. While three are not biologically hers, you’d never know it unless you knew her before Hatch came along. Each of the kids is treated as though she gave birth to them, she doesn’t differentiate. Come to think of it, none of the old ladies who have adopted kids acts as if they were adopted. And that makes me wonder if Bridget ever wants kids. I can go either way, but if she wants them, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she has them.
“Oh yes! Then we can get you gift cards and shit so you can buy better equipment!” Cassarah says.
“But the stuff I have works well,” Bridget says. I can hear the protest in her voice, but I know these women by now and they will get their way.
“Honey, when you’re in the salon next, bring your shears down and I’ll let you see the difference between what I’ve got and those, okay? Because there’s a huge difference and you want quality tools to provide quality service,” Cassarah states.
I lean in and whisper in her ear, “They’re like a steamroller, sweetheart. You should just get used to it.” I see her sh
iver as my breath caresses her face and silently groan. Because I know, at least where I’m concerned, that she’s aware of the effect I have on her. And fuck my life, I’m surrounded by women. Now’s not the time to get hard!
“DJ? You okay?” Cara asks.
“Me? I’m fine, why?” DJ responds.
“You’re not drinking.” I look at her and realize that she isn’t. That’s odd. She always has a drink of some type in her hand.
“Eh, just not in the mood is all.”
“Liar!” Cara calls out, “You’re always in the mood for margaritas...spill, woman!”
Giving side eyes to her best friend, DJ blurts out, “Fine, we were gonna wait, but y’all are too fucking nosy! We’re pregnant...you happy?” Well fuck me, don’t those two have enough kids running around their house without adding another mouth to feed? Maybe I need to have the safe sex talk with Hatch. He’s obviously forgotten how to protect himself from getting his woman pregnant.
Gasps and squeals immediately assault my ears as the women are now all up and surrounding DJ, who’s grinning from ear to ear. We’ve already got Trinity and Cassarah expecting, so this will add a third baby to our family within the next year. I glance over at Bridget and see a look of sadness cross her face before she pastes a smile on and gets up to offer her congratulations. I wonder what that was about? Something to tuck away for another day. I grab her hand and squeeze it in silent support.
Bridget
The excitement on everyone’s face after hearing DJ’s news has me feeling just a little bit sad. None of them know my deepest darkest secret, and there’s no way I can share it and stay, so I paste a smile on and go to congratulate her. I can tell that Capone knows something’s up with me, but thankfully, he doesn’t say a word, just gives my hand a squeeze. God, if he knew...there’s no way he’d continue to stick around. I need to get out of here, I hastily throw my cup in the garbage and head out towards my car.
“Bridget, wait!” I hear Hannah running behind me and I can’t not stop -- she’s my sister after all and has no idea what’s going on with me and what’s streaming in my mind.
“I’m not feeling well, Hannah, I need to go home and lay down for a while,” I tell her, before she has a chance to say a word to me.
“What’s wrong? I’m worried about you. When DJ announced she was pregnant your face turned as white as a sheet. Don’t keep things from me, let me help you,” she pleads with me.
“I can’t right now. Please understand,” I beg her.
“Fine, but don’t think I’ll wait long, I’m going to be like a fly on a trap when it comes to you. I won’t give up!” She seems angry and that’s the last thing I want to happen. She’s the only one that I care about when it comes to my relationships.
“I’ll tell you eventually, I promise. I need time to get my head wrapped around my thoughts. Be patient and don’t give up on me,” I say, my eyes watering.
“I’ll never give up on you, ever!” she says, wrapping her arms around me. I look over her shoulder and see Capone standing there with a worried look on his face. His eyes laser into mine and hold them in a stare off. I pray I’m not giving anything away with the emotions that are most likely showing. When we pull back, Hannah kisses my cheek and escorts me the rest of the way to my car. When I pull out, I see Capone, Hannah, Smokey and Bandit all watching my car pull away. It brings a smile to my face at the show of how much all of them actually do care about me and my well-being. I drive the rest of the way home with that on my mind instead of the one thing I wish could be buried -- forever.
Two
Bridget
Five weeks later…
My name is called and I walk across the stage. When my diploma is handed to me, I hear the room explode in cheers. I look over and see every member of the club and all the women there. I smile at all of them and hold my diploma over my head. I’ve never been so excited, happy or proud in all of my life. Next step...taking the state exams! My instructor has sent in my fee along with the paperwork and I’m waiting on the email to schedule both the written and practical tests. Cassarah has promised to help me make sure my bag is ready and we’re going to practice the haircut and everything else until I’m beyond confident. We’ve also done mock practicals in school and I’ve scored well, so I just have to make sure I keep focused.
Once I’m off the stage and back in my seat, I look at my diploma and smile. Dreams that were long buried are coming forth once again and that little flicker of hope that Capone set off in me all those weeks ago grows bigger. I’m one step closer to being independent. I mean, I kinda am already since I work at the salon and have my own apartment, but this piece of paper will enable me to earn more money as a stylist. My own money, no less. I won’t have to give it to anyone else. I’m so lost in my thoughts that one of my classmates has to nudge me at the end to stand so we can throw our caps in the air. Such a stupid tradition, but whatever. Even though my thoughts are that the act is immature, I find myself laughing along with everyone else and cheering. It feels good, and normal. I find that I quite like being like everyone else for once. I manage to find my cap and run to find my family. Capone picks me up once he sees me and twirls me around.
“Congratulations, Bridge! You deserve this and so much more.”
“Thank you,” I say, breathlessly. I lean down and peck his cheek. Then place my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I was bold enough to do that. My face must have a funny look on it because he begins laughing.
“You can put those lips on me anytime you want,” he says, with a huge smile plastered on his face. I know I turn red, because I can feel the heat on my cheeks.
“Um…” Well, damn, I’m flustered. He’s not pushed or anything since he’s been back, seemingly content to just be around. And he’s always around, doing little things for me to make my life easier. All the takeout meals he’s brought over on the days I do therapy, school, and then work? It’s like he’s showing me that I matter and am important. Sure, he’s said those things, but for me, actions go a helluva lot farther than words ever will. He’s even allowed me to cut his hair! Granted, it was at the salon and I didn’t cut much but being able to run my fingers through his hair had me wishing things were different.
“Nan has a huge spread at the clubhouse, Bridge. My job is to escort you there, will you do me the honor of riding on the back of my bike?”
“What about my car?”
“A prospect will be bringing it back for you. Let go and have fun! It’s your day, let’s celebrate. Let your hair down and feel the wind in your face. It’s the best therapy I’ve ever had.”
“Wind therapy?” I can’t help but giggle.
“You’re laughing now but wait until you get the freedom that only comes from riding.”
“Okay,” I say in response.
“Okay! Really? That was easier than I thought it would be.” I giggle again and let him grab my hand and drag me to his bike. It’s huge! I look at my gown then back at the bike. Confusion must be apparent on my face because he then pulls the zipper down on my gown and begins removing it and sliding it down my body. Good thing I wore jeans and a shirt under my gown!
“Put your feet here, and here, don’t touch the pipes, they get very hot.”
“How do I get on?”
“Put your left foot on this peg and lift your right leg up and over. Sit close and hold tight once you’re in position.” I follow his instructions and he starts the bike, the loudness and vibrations take me by surprise. I look over at all the old ladies on the back of their men’s bikes and smile at them. DJ gives me a thumbs up and I laugh at her. I wonder how safe it is for her to be riding considering she’s preggers? I wouldn’t want to be the one who tells DJ she can’t do anything, which I’m sure is the boat that Hatch is in. I laugh at the thought of him being scared of tiny DJ! Trinity and Cassarah wave from the SUV they’re in, both Chief and Law flanking them on their own bikes. Then Capone takes off and all my focus is on hanging on tight! I squeal
when he hits the throttle and we soar down the roads. He’s right, this is not only fun, but very therapeutic.
“Can we do that again?” I ask him once we reach the clubhouse. I’m sure my hair is a hot mess, but I can’t keep the smile from covering my face at how it felt to have the wind in my face or his tight abs under my hands. Fuck, he’s hot. Wait...where did that thought come from? It had nothing to do with the here and now and the question I just asked him. Why is it when he’s around my brain cells misfire at every opportunity. No no no.
“Any time you want, beautiful,” he replies before reaching his hand out. Seems whenever we’re together, he’s touching me in some way. Nothing sexual, which I don’t think I can handle right now, but I’ve grown accustomed to holding his hand and the little kisses he gives my forehead or cheek. Once my feet are firmly planted on the ground, I am grabbed by the old ladies and rushed into the clubhouse. The kids are running wild and I smile at the carefree way they live their lives. I had that once. I envy them and the way nothing touches them and that they can live wild and free. I hope if I ever have kids, they are just as happy as all of these munchkins are. A drink is placed in my hand and I am once again dragged out the back door. I can’t help but laugh at the way the old ladies always take charge and no one says a thing about it.
The night flies by, and before I know it the couples with kids are leaving. And I am not ready to end the night. “Can I stay a little longer?” I ask Capone.
“Yes, ma’am, just because the parents have left, that doesn't mean the party is over,” he tells me with a wink. “How about a nighttime ride?”
Capone_Rebel Guardians MC Page 3
