The mural was the entire back wall, opposite the windows that made up the store front. Track lighting was going to shine on it all hours, so even when the lights were out the windows would be lit up with her work.
She’d been at this the last three nights. Her back was killing her, her hand cramped from holding the brush, and her shoulders were starting to get pissed off with how much painting she was doing over her head as well. But she was happy. Very happy.
A month out of rehab. Brady had let her crash on his sofa for a while, even helped her move all her belongings she didn’t sell out of her condo and into storage. But living on the couch of a very affectionate couple wasn’t really comfortable for her, and after two days she’d started apartment hunting.
It was a small bachelor apartment, but she honestly didn’t care. It was in a neighborhood going through revitalization, right on the edge of Markham closest to Bakersfield. The wrong side of the tracks. But it was populated with artist types, and the landlord himself said she could do whatever she wanted with the place. “Just don’t fuck up the electrical or the plumbing.”
The first thing she’d hung up were her paintings. The sunflower field nearly spanned the width of the bedroom/living room, but she made the rest of the room work around it. The rose was actually here at the shop, Brady asked if it could hang over his work station and she’d said sure. She’d painted it for her and Darryl anyway. No loss there.
The goldfish were in her bathroom, which she’d painted the same color of her bathroom she’d shared with Darryl. It looked good, the colors were cool, and she was happy it didn’t bring back any sullen memories for her.
A new painting hung over the tiny dining table, next to the only window in her apartment. A portrait of Grandma Gertie. Brady always said hello and goodbye to it when he left, which was amusing to her. She’d told him all about her, of course. She’d told him everything about everything. He knew her better than anyone by now.
She’d taken to thinking about her grandmother more and more. And her own mother. Gertie found it hard to hate the woman who’d carried and cared for her. It couldn’t have been easy, being sick like she was. Gertie was ashamed that she had ever resented the woman, actually. She took to visiting her mother’s grave on weekends, Brady giving her a ride in his rusty pick-up.
Yeah, Brady busted a lot of stereotypes for her.
Gertie went back to her work, fighting the urge to rush through it now that she was so close to being done this part. She wanted every inch to be perfect, exactly what she was imagining in her head. She wouldn’t be done until it was.
When the bell over the door jangled she didn’t turn, since it was just Brady leaving for the day. But when he cleared his throat and called out, “Umm, Gertie?” she turned quickly before he could finish saying “You have a visitor.”
She could have dropped the brush, she was so surprised. Although, it was stupid to be surprised. She was in Markham now, living here. It was more surprising that she hadn’t run into David Buckingham before this moment.
He looked good. Of course. He seemed so much taller indoors, legs looking long in distressed jeans. The white T-shirt was a given – the neck was stretched out a bit, but it was just fine on his because it showed that hollow at the base of his throat and a goodly amount of collarbone. His hands were in his pockets, the kutte gaping a bit from the posture. The stubble was a few weeks’ worth, and he might have had a trim on the hair but she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t seen him since she’d gotten out of treatment.
She had no voice. She didn’t know, still, if being here was okay. If she needed permission to be residing in Markham, whether it was writing a letter or asking at one of those club meetings.
“I uh,” Buck broke the quiet, voice a bit husky before he cleared his throat. “I saw the painting riding by and …” he laughed a little. “I actually recognized it as yours, if that’s even possible.”
Brady made a strangled noise of enchantment, and they both seemed to realize at that moment he was still there, watching them stare at each other. His eyes were wide, much like they were every time they’d watched The Notebook, actually.
“Brady?” Gertie called, her friend turning to her with the same goopy expression. “A little privacy?”
“You got it,” he answered with a smile. Then he held his hand out to Buck. “Brady Clark. You ever need ink, I’d love to work on your canvas.”
“Brady!” Gertie hissed.
The idiot just winked at her, shook Buck’s hand, and ducked out of the door behind Buck, who for his part was smiling and rubbing the back of his neck. Ugh, the way his chest moved under his shirt when he did that …
The flare of heat low in her body was a surprise. She literally hadn’t felt that for months. And that realization brought up the fact she was alone here with him.
And she wasn’t scared at all.
“Umm,” she hummed out brilliantly, dropping her brush into a jar of thinner. “How …. How have things been?”
With a sigh he shrugged. “Not good. But …you know. It can only get better.”
“Did … did you know I was living here?”
He nodded, eyes back on her painting. “Yeah. When you applied for your mailbox we found out. Spaz kind of has you flagged.”
Gertie nodded, crossing her arms. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”
His smile was gorgeous, causing that crinkle in the corners of his eyes that made her body clench in a deep, dark spot. “I just need to make sure you’re okay, Gertie.”
Gertie nodded, looking down at her feet, then to the side where her brushes were. “I’m good,” she said after a pause. “I’m doing very well, actually.”
“Good.” There was relief in his tone, so she had to look at him again.
“I should have told you I was moving here,” she stammered out, unable to read the look on his face.
“Nah, you don’t have to do that. I mean, I’m relieved you’re all right.”
This was awkward. She didn’t know how to talk to him. It didn’t … it didn’t feel like they were still together, somehow. There was no closure here. Like they’d broken up without the both of them realizing it, and all that was left to wonder was whether or not the other person was interested in starting something up again.
But neither of them was going to ask.
“Trinny moved away with the kids,” Buck said, and that startled her but she was also relieved to have something to talk about.
“Is she okay?”
Buck shrugged. “She’s healed. And she’s not coming back, so she says.”
Gertie’s heart broke a bit for Jayce with that. She’d recognized his dedication to his wife. It was been very real and he was proud enough to show how much he loved her, his whole family. “What about Jayce Junior and Libby?”
“They’re with their mom. He still visits every time we’re near Tacoma.”
“Poor Jayce. Poor Trinny,” she breathed. It had never occurred to her the shooting might drive them apart for this long.
“The uh … the investigation into the Gypsys has been hijacked from the Sheriff,” he said next.
“What?”
“Sheriff Downey thinks there’s an undercover agent on the inside. She had evidence, everything she needed to put a few of them away for the shooting and for … for what they did to you. But her evidence was commandeered and she was called off.”
Gertie felt her knees give, just a bit. “So … no one’s going to jail for what they did to Trinny? Or me?”
He shook his head, then cleared his throat again. “They’re going after big picture, and we’re pretty sure it’s the drugs.”
Gertie laughed coldly. “Yeah, those drugs. After all, why would it matter that people got hurt?”
Buck took a few long strides closer, his ease of movement enough to make her breath catch. “That just means we get to dish out the payback, that’s all.”
Her eyes came up to his green ones. “Good,” she whispered, clear
ing her throat as well.
“Also, I wanted you to know that you have the club’s thanks for helping Trinny. Jayce would say it too but … he’s kind of a mess at the moment.”
“I can understand that.”
“You’re under Rebels protection. Anything seems off or you’re suspicious about who’s coming around talking to you, say the word and we’ll look into it.”
Gertie frowned. “But … why?”
“You saved Trinny and the kids. You nearly died for that.”
She didn’t trust herself to reply intelligently, so she stayed quiet.
“And everything that happened to you was your father’s fault, and he didn’t help you when given the chance.”
“What does that mean?” Now she spoke up, now there was a bit of fear.
Buck’s hand came up to push hair over her shoulder. “When they raped you, they taped it. They sent it to him. If he turned himself in they said they’d let you go. Instead, he fled. Spaz can’t even find him.”
“Bullshit,” she hissed, lip trembling. She hadn’t believed it from Downey, but now she felt her conviction waver. “He’d come for me.”
Buck shook his head. “He didn’t, honey.”
Her gut clenched when he called her that.
“Has he called you lately? Just to talk? I don’t even mean because he heard something happened to you. I mean in general, because he’s your dad, has he called to ask how you are?”
Tears made her vision all wonky. “Well, I have a new phone number now-”
“Gertie,” he cut in, close enough now that his kutte brushed the front of her painting shirt. “I’m not going to argue. But if anything seems off, please call me. I’m going to leave you my number. And ask that you be careful.”
Numb now, she just nodded.
“And don’t stay here too late. It’s not the worst neighborhood, but it’s slightly worse than the street you live on.”
“You know where I live too?” Of course he did. He knew where her mailbox was. He’d said so himself.
“Nice building, but why ground floor?”
“Bigger windows,” she answered with a wry smile.
He shook his head. “Exactly.”
One of those big, rough palms slid around the back of her neck, pulling her in so he could kiss her forehead. She smiled and her eyes closed, allowing herself to inhale deeply before he pulled away. He smelled like always; fresh air, motor oil, leather, sunshine and sweat. Freedom.
“Be careful, okay Gertie?” he asked, peering down at her with a smile. His thumb traced down her cheek before he stepped back.
Without a word he picked up the phone sitting on the table with her brushes and, just like he had almost a year ago, presumptuously entered his phone number into it for her.
She never said a word, she just watched him turn and walk to the door. He pulled it open and turned back to her. “Lock this when I’m gone,” he instructed.
With a grin she came forward, doing exactly as he instructed. He watched to make sure, then climbed on his bike. In a roar of the engine he was gone.
Gertie turned her back to the glass door, her wall mural making itself noticed again. She wiped both eyes with an embarrassed laugh then got back to work.
Chapter Sixty-Six
-NOW-
Buck frowned at her choice of spot. Asking him for a ride had been a nice change. She’d chucked the sling and tried out holding onto him for a quick tour around the block, then they decided she was okay for a longer run. Something a lot more fun. The highway.
After getting her into jeans, a hoodie, and wrapping her hack job of a haircut in a scarf they took off, Buck fully intending to tour her around, open up the engine on the blacktop for a while then take her right back to the dorm.
But then she’d tapped his helmet with hers, and he’d pulled over to talk. Gertie asked to come here, so he stood behind her awkwardly as she knelt on the lush green sod of a cemetery plot, staring at a stone that had her own name on it.
Gertrude Bernard-Tash. She’d been ninety when she died, he noticed. She was laid to rest next to her second husband. Gertie didn’t say much, just stared at the stone like she was communicating telepathically. After a moment she looked up at him over her shoulder and held a hand out.
Looking around, he realized they were alone. He would have given her some privacy, taken a walk, but now he knew she wanted him there. He took her hand, letting her tug him weakly down to kneel next to her.
“I don’t think Grandma ever really thought Darryl was the right guy for me,” she said. He knew this was her ex-husband, of course. “She was nice to him, don’t get me wrong,” Gertie amended quickly. “But she’d always ask if I got those butterflies. And I had at first. But by the time we were married they were … well, long gone. I guess. She would have liked you, though. A lot.”
Buck raised an eyebrow “You think so?”
“I know so,” Gertie insisted, smiling at the tombstone. Even with the fading bruises she was so fucking beautiful. “She would have made dreadfully inappropriate comments about how attractive you are. Then blame her mouth on her own senility.”
Buck grinned. “I’m sure I would have liked her, too.”
“She used to tell me, when I was little, that I had to fall for a man who lit me up like a chandelier. She was passionate, impulsive, and had no patience for sitting around waiting until life got better. My mother was the opposite, and so am I.”
Buck ran his hand across her shoulder blades. “Honey,” he mumbled. “You just went on pause for a bit, that’s all. You’re back, though.”
Gertie nodded, turning those eyes to him again. “Grandma said if a couple lit each other up, there could be no dark times.”
Buck sighed, pulling her close enough to kiss her temple, gently enough not to hurt her. “I’ll chase away your darkness if you do the same for me,” he promised, meaning it.
Gertie’s brow furrowed. “I still have to be on my own for a bit, Buck.”
He didn’t like that, but he wasn’t about to push her about anything yet. “Okay,” he agreed. “But let’s get an alarm or something, okay?”
She snorted. “For my one-room apartment? You think anyone wants a twenty-six inch tube TV enough to break in?”
He smiled at her. “Your TV got broken. You need a new one, and all they’ve got these days are flat screens, honey.”
“Fine,” she agreed, pouty without playing it up. “I’ll get an alarm.”
“And I’m getting you a gun.”
“No!”
“Stop arguing,” he instructed, leaning back and taking his hand from her back. “If those guns hadn’t been at Jayce’s, just imagine how bad that shit could have been.”
He nearly laughed at how reluctant she was to admit he was right. “Fine, I’ll get a gun. But you have to show me how to use it.”
“Of course,” he said, grinning now.
“I have one condition too.”
Buck’s eyebrow arched, leaning towards her a bit. “What’s that now?”
“You visit me a lot. And when I’m ready … you spend the night.”
Buck’s eyes darted over her face, reading the worry in her eyes. She thought he might not want her anymore? Was that really what was going through that head of hers?
He cupped the back of her head and pulled her in to kiss her temple again. “That’s a deal,” he agreed simply, not wanting to make a big deal about it.
She leaned back, smiling again. Then she looked to the tombstone. “See Grandma? He’s kind of awesome.”
Buck did laugh at that, head back, listening to Gertie join in softly for a bit. Then he got to his feet. “Do I have Gertrude’s permission to take her granddaughter somewhere safe so she can get her rest?”
Gertie smiled and took his offered hand. “Of course you do. She’d probably give you shit for taking me on a bike ride in the first place, given my condition.”
Buck chuckled again, squeezing Gertie’s hand before they
headed back to his bike.
He still had to sort out how to break it to her that her father was likely dead. And try to convince her that making nice with her brothers was a good idea since they’d only have each other for family now. But for the moment he wanted her on his bike behind him, arms wrapped around him tight. That’s all Buck wanted in the whole world.
And Gertie gave it to him.
###
About C.D. Breadner:
C.D. Breadner is a self-published author. Her first novel, Sin Eater, was the beginning of The Sin Eater series, an urban paranormal, slightly erotic series looking at the different forces of good and evil.
Recently she was christened a contributing author to The Freak Circle; a collective of amazing and supportive writers that have made this new genre so much fun to delve into. She lives in a cozy home in the woods with her wonderful husband and two German Shepherds.
Connect With C.D. Breadner:
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