Hurricane

by Laramie Briscoe

  “See you tonight?” I yell at the two of them as I lock up.

  “We’ll be there,” Charity answers, before hopping into her SUV.

  I watch as Mandy does the same from the back door of the office. Once they’re gone, I do one more check, making sure nothing is out of the ordinary. It’s been ingrained in me since there was some trouble when Mandy was pregnant. I’m thorough with my work; nobody is getting hurt on my shift.

  Walking back out into the weather, I shiver as the air cools with the approaching cold front. The wind has picked up, and I groan as a raindrop hits my neck in between where my jacket and shirt sit. Reaching into my saddlebags, I take the leather jacket off, shrug on a hoodie and stick the material up over my head, before putting my helmet on. No matter what happens, at least I’m covered from head to toe. I put the leather jacket back on, zipping it up to my neck. The gloves are the last things to go on. Suited up, I hop on the bike and make my way toward the clubhouse, which for now, is where I stay most of the time. Like many of the other members of our club, I own some property and a small house, but with no one to share it with, I don’t stay there often.

  Ten minutes into my ride, I know without a doubt it’s going to be a nasty night. The wind is stronger than it was downtown, and the temp feels much cooler than before. Even though I have layers on, I can feel the sting through them, and the road is getting tricky, especially being on two wheels. I wish I’d driven my truck today, but I hadn’t looked at the forecast before I left.

  As I come to the stoplight at the corner of Porter Pike and Louisville Road, I have to stop to accommodate traffic. Gazing up at the sky, I see it’s gotten darker. The gray, washed out color from earlier is now darker and deeper. Sort of the kind of darkness we have in the summer when the sky’s about to open up and the rain pours down. The light changes, and all I wanna do is get home.

  What used to be a patch of gravel is now a parking lot at the clubhouse. And it’s pretty damn full once I finally make it. Took me forty-five minutes, when it normally takes less than fifteen. I’m freezing, tired, and not really up to dealing with a bunch of people right now. That’s neither here nor there, because tonight is Bianca’s birthday, and if there’s anyone who knows how to party – it’s Jagger and B.

  With a remote on my keyring, I open the garage, just as another car is coming up the drive. My heart pumps faster and my chest tightens as I see the sleek, black Tahoe that Tatum drives. Liam got it for her for Christmas, and I have to approve her having such a large vehicle. It should protect her if anything were to happen on the road. I drove it from the dealership here, the only kind of connection I’ve been allowed to have with her since our stubborn natures and smart mouths got in the way.

  Instead of letting the garage door close and allowing her to ignore me the way she has been, I make a split-second decision. I’m not what most would call forceful on a good day, the extreme alpha gene passed me up. I grew up in a world where men used their fists on women, and I didn’t want to be that guy. But fuck me if I don’t want to hear her say my name again, even if it’s to tell me to fuck off. My stride is purposeful and determined as I eat up the distance between us. The sleet coming down doesn’t faze me in the least. It bounces off the leather of my jacket, sticks to the slight beard I have, and collects on the jersey hood of the zip up I wear underneath. None of that matters as the driver’s side door to the Tahoe opens, and Tatum slips out. She’s not dressed for this weather, at all, and I bite my tongue to keep my nagging to myself. Instead, I box her in before she can turn and tell me to hit the damn road, because for once she’s going to listen to me. For once in this stand-off we’re having, I’m going to make my voice heard. My body gets as close to her as I can without touching her, and I grab hold of the door, holding it open.

  “What the hell?” she mumbles as she turns to face me.

  Our breath is warm against each other’s skin as we stare at one another. We haven’t been this close since that night. “Two minutes, Tate.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Her dark eyes flash with irritation. “You don’t get to have a nickname for me, not after how we left things.”

  “We left things really fuckin’ shitty because you refuse to talk to me, babe.”

  “You don’t get to call me babe, either.” Her words are laced with annoyance, but I can see a flicker of interest in those eyes now.

  Using the same mindset I use when I have to do things for the club, I step further into her space. Instead of boxing her in, I’m basically pinning her against the driver’s seat. “You’re gonna do one thing for the next two minutes and that’s listen to me.”

  Her chin lifts defiantly. There’s the girl I know, the woman who drives me nuts, the soul that arouses me beyond belief. Every part of her is a piece I care about, an almost-completed puzzle that’s only missing one thing: me. Pressing further into her and asserting what little authority I have over her, I move one hand off the leather of her seat and let it fall to her chin. I wish it wasn’t covered against the elements and I could feel her skin against mine, but beggars can’t be choosers, and right now I’ll take what I can get.

  “Last year was bad.” My dark eyes meet her blue ones, the truth shining between us. “Both of us were at fault.”

  She opens her mouth to argue, but I slap my hand over her arguments.

  “You did things to piss me off, and I let you. I refused to see what you were trying to show me, and that’s my fault.” I swallow roughly – past the lump in my throat, past the emotion those eyes evoke in me. “I’ll never forgive myself for letting you sleep with him.”

  “You didn’t let me.” She manages to get her mouth lose. “I wanted to.”

  I lift my eyebrow. “It’s easier to lie to me than to yourself, Tate. I know you; your reactions are responses to actions. I’m willing to admit my actions weren’t what either of us wanted. I should have manned the fuck up and let things progress naturally, but I had to try and control it. For that, I’m sorry. I put us both in a bad situation and ruined an awesome friendship in the process.”

  My words become progressively quieter as I spill my heart out to her. The body that had been tense against me isn’t tense anymore. She’s leaning fully against me, letting my muscle take her weight. It’s a motion of trust, one I won’t forget anytime soon. We’re quiet as I let my words trail off, both shivering as the sleet beats down on top of us.

  “This doesn’t change anything.” Her stubborn words break the silence.

  “It might not right now, Tate, but it will. I’ll show you.”

  She bites her bottom lip before her eyes jerk back up to mine. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

  I breathe as the apology slips over her bee-stung, red lips. My chance is here, waiting for me to grab it. It’s hard to admit right now might not be the time for me to reach out and take it. Looking at her, I can see it written all over her face.

  “But it still doesn’t change anything. Please let me go. Let me go into the clubhouse.”

  I let my forehead drop to her shoulder, sheltering her body in the warmth of mine for a few precious seconds. I let myself enjoy the closeness, inhale the scent of her, and commit to memory the way she feels against me. “Thanks for listening.” I move back, allowing her to escape from the prison of my arms.

  “Thanks for apologizing,” she whispers before she runs across the gravel, her combat boots slapping against the rock. She’s almost to the door when she turns back. “For the record, Remington Sawyer, that was way longer than two minutes.”

  Something about the way she busts my balls makes me smile. Gives me hope that we have a chance. Encourages me to go along with my plan, which I’ll set into motion tomorrow morning.

  Closing the door to her SUV, I put my hands in my pockets, hunching over against the wind as I run back to the garage. With a grin on my face that hasn’t been there in a long time, I join the group in the clubhouse. For the first time in a year
, I finally feel like I belong again.

  All because Tatum Walker talked to me. Call me a pussy, tell me to hand over my man card, whatever you wanna do. Home is a person, a feeling, an emotion, and my home is her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tatum

  The clubhouse is a beehive of activity when I enter. A part of me feels like this place should look different. As far as I’m concerned, my life partially changed out in the driveway. An apology from Remy isn’t something I thought I’d ever get. Not because I didn’t think he would give it to me, but rather I didn’t feel like I deserved one. If truth be known, I probably owe him the apology, not the other way around.

  I’m not stupid enough to not take what he’s offering. If him apologizing means we can move on, then so be it. One of us had to extend an olive branch. I’m willing to admit the more mature one of us did the extending.

  “About time you got here!”

  Seeing Addie puts me at ease. She’s been my best friend for years, and knowing she’s here tonight helps me not feel so anxious. “Sorry, I ran back to the apartment to change.”

  She looks down at the dress, leggings, and combat boots I’m wearing, giving me a look. “Did you spill something on the clothes you wore to work, or were you wanting to show Remy what he’s missing?”

  I can’t deny the intent was there. After my conversation with Cash today, I’d thought about Remy more than I have in the last twelve months. My self-esteem needs for him to look at and want me. Since he pushed me off him and rejected my advances, I’ve been struggling to have the same confidence I had before. Remy didn’t ever think about his actions affecting my confidence, I know he didn’t, but I can’t help how I’ve been feeling or how I’ve reacted.

  “Maybe.” I shrug, not meeting her eyes.

  She steps closer to me, her dark gaze meeting mine. Addie is very much the daughter of Tyler Blackfoot. She’s intuitive, observant, and having been my best friend for much of my life, can read me like a damn book. “Are you ready to move on, Tee?”

  Her nickname for me grounds me and settles me into a place where I’m comfortable, even around all of those I consider family. Grabbing a shot glass someone passed to me, I shoot the burning liquid, glancing to make sure my parents didn’t see it. Not being twenty-one is the shitty part of coming to a club party right now. It’s not that my parents think I’m innocent, but I don’t necessarily like to flaunt it in their faces either. I’m about to answer her when I feel him.

  Literally, it’s an awareness in my body, and I’ve been ignoring it for the past year. Tonight ignorance isn’t bliss. Turning to face the entrance from the garage, I see him. It’s almost as if I’m looking at him for the first time again. He’s emerging from a fog I’ve kept him under for so long, and now I’m letting my gaze wash over him. For these few minutes, I’m not allowing myself to push back the feelings I always do when faced with him. He’s apologized, and it’s only fair that I let some of the grudge I’ve been holding go.

  The last year has changed him. His hair is longer, he’s gotten more tattoos, and his smile isn’t as quick to spread across his face. There’s an air of danger about him, a brooding loner vibe that he didn’t have before. It’s sexy, and I want to push past those walls he’s built, tear them down with my bare hands, and burrow under his skin.

  “What do you think when you look at him?” Addie asks, watching me closely.

  “What do I think? Nothing, not anymore.”

  If she’d asked me how I feel? That would be a whole different answer. No matter what Remy and I have or haven’t gone through in the past year, he still evokes a ton of emotions in me. Sadness, love, lust, loneliness, a gnawing in my gut for the friend I once had. A profound loss for the love I knew we were going to have. If I had it to do over again, I would stubbornly tell anyone who asked that I’d do it the exact same. Thing is though, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t push him so hard, wouldn’t give myself up to someone else just so I’d get it over with. Regret has hit me hard the last year, but no one knows what I’m regretting more than anything is my lack of patience.

  Remy deserved that patience, and I blew it.

  It’s something I’ll live with for the rest of my life. Most everyone thinks I don’t talk to Remy because I’m pissed at him. Fact is, I’m pissed and disappointed in myself. The easiest way to deflect is to not put myself in the situation again.

  The only problem is I’m not sure how in the world we can move on from this. Even with the apology and the promise, I don’t know that I can let my guard down and let myself be vulnerable, knowing that I may ruin this again – it’s the worst feeling in the world.

  Addie rolls her eyes, probably pissed at the way I dismiss everything with a sort of nonchalance. She of all people knows there’s a lot of feeling there.

  “Whatever girl, you keep telling yourself whatever you need to. Your eyes following him every time you’re around him tell a totally different story than the words coming out of your mouth.”

  I want to argue with her as she turns her back on me, but it’s not worth it. She knows me better than I know myself most of the time.

  Turning around I notice my mom sitting at one of the bar top tables we have around the room. She’s by herself, which is unusual. Typically, she and my dad are attached at the hip. Feeling a little down, I walk over to her, pull myself up into the high chair, and lean my shoulder against hers.

  “Hey, Momma.”

  She puts her arm around me, running her hand up and down my arm. “Haven’t seen you around here lately.”

  I cut my eyes at her. “Scenery tends to be a bit confusing sometimes.”

  Her laugh is loud, louder than the people around us. “Love always is, sweetheart.”

  “Who said anything about love?”

  This time she cuts her eyes toward me and takes a drink of the rum and Coke she’s fond of in front of her. “I saw you outside with Remy. When are you going to let it go, Tate?”

  She’s the only person besides Addie who knows what happened last year. It’d taken me three weeks, but I’d ended up on the screened-in back porch Mom and I spent so many afternoons and evenings together, crying to her about loving Remy and how I fucked up by sleeping with a guy who didn’t give a shit about me. She’d held me, let me cry, and told me all about the father of my half-brother and half-sister. Everybody makes mistakes she’d said. And here I am, still making them.

  “I don’t know why I’m still holding on to it,” I whisper. “The part of me that believes in fairytales wants one with him.”

  “Bikers who wear leather jackets and work protection for strip clubs sometimes have different ideas of what the fairytale is baby.” She laughs. “My advice to you, because you are totally my child, is to let it happen when it does. You keep pushing him away? One day, Tate, he’s not going to come back. He’s going to listen, and he’s going to hear you loud and clear.”

  Those thoughts are heavy on my mind as I hear a loud cheer come up from the crowd. Jagger is pushing a birthday cake in B’s direction, and his beautiful, clear voice can be heard over everyone else singing “Happy Birthday” to his wife.

  At the end, he sets the cake down, wraps her in his arms, and kisses her passionately while everyone whistles and shouts encouraging words. In the midst of it all, my eyes lock onto Remy’s. We stare at each other, until I feel a shiver against my skin, his gaze heating, telling me with no words that could be us.

  As I turn to face my mom, breaking our stare, I know without a doubt it could be.

  If only we could get our shit together and stop fucking around.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Remy

  The sound of an alarm calms me, weird I know, but when I hear it in the morning, it reminds me I’m alive. It gives me a sense of a routine. A kind of routine I never had until my brother took control of our lives and custody of me. Before that, I didn’t have any kind of routine. My life was chaos, hunger, and fear.

  After Harper, my sister-in-law, cam
e into our lives, things changed. Cash wasn’t by himself, wasn’t trying to do everything on his own as a young man who had no idea how to take care of a kid like me. Together, even when I rallied against them and fought against their authority, they petitioned a judge and got custody of me. I don’t know how he did it, never asked, but I have a feeling the Heaven Hill MC had something to do with it.

  Nobody has ever said, has ever made me feel as if I’m a charity case, or like I started in the dredges of human waste that I did, and I thank them for that. There are a lot of things about my childhood I choose not to remember, and every single one of those memories involves my mom and dad. In every way that counts, Cash is my dad, and he’s taken care of me better than anyone ever has before. Which is why I’m trying so damn hard to be a man he can be proud of.

  Getting up from the bed, I go about my business, showering, dressing, letting the slight beard I have grow for another day, before I go out into the main room of the clubhouse. Just like any other morning, it’s bustling.

  “Morning, Rem.” Liam tips his coffee cup at me from where he sits at the head of the huge table we have set up.

  Liam is another father figure that came into my life when I wasn’t looking for one. But from what I’ve learned since I’ve patched into Heaven Hill, he’s a father figure to everyone in the club, whether they want him to be or not. He’s their support, their encouragement, and typically a voice of reason.

  “Morning,” I answer back, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring a cup of coffee for myself. I’m not a straight black guy, I like it with more cream and sugar than coffee. It takes longer than I admit for me to fix a cup, but we all have our quirks.

  “You want some coffee with that sugar?” Jagger teases as he watches, eyeing the way I shake it in. If I had to pick anyone here I’m closest to, it’s probably Jagger.