He came along in the form of a lover, not just a friend or shoulder to cry on, because up until then that's all he'd been. Trig had seen me at my worst, and not given the slightest care in the world I looked awful, hadn't showered in days, and probably smelled like a distillery. Trig picked me up, dumped me in the bath, and turned on the cold water. Cursing up a storm, and managing to splash him sufficiently enough that I felt somewhat vindicated, I switched the tap to hot, and went about cleansing myself of the hospital grime and stench of loss. That was only the beginning of the things he did to pull me out of the hole I was firmly entrenched in.
Don't get me wrong, Trig wasn't a magic cure-all, he didn't douse me in the cold water of that bath and miraculously I was all healed. It was slow going, and some days I felt like I was treading water, barely keeping my head afloat with the lack of progress. But it was those days Trig was the most supportive, the most persistent, and infinitely the most annoying. He was like a dog with a bone with one single desire; to help me. He never once gave up on me. Trig honestly believed I would get better, that I could get over the loss of another child, with time I would move past the horrible reality that I no longer had the ability to have children any more. And he stanchly believed I would get over the man I was and still am desperately in love with. Needless to say, I did not share his beliefs.
We fought more than we didn't. I called him names, threw him out of my house almost hourly, and I cried more on his broad shoulders than any woman should ever cry all over a man. I can't tell you exactly how we progressed to being more, and to tell you the truth I'd prefer not to try and remember. The fact is; we did, but that's well and truly over and done with now.
What I do remember is freaking out, slapping him squarely across the face the first time he ever kissed me. It came as a complete shock, and I reacted before thinking. I felt horrible after hitting him, it wasn’t something I ever did it wasn’t like me, but Trig laughed it off saying it was fine, that he was fine. I could see the hurt in his eyes though, and some small part of me wanted to ease his pain. I wanted to do for him what he had done for me through his patience and persistence. I wasn’t sure how to do that, and I’m sure if I’d thought on it for longer I would have come to the conclusion that anything but what I did would have been better. But again, I didn’t think first, and that’s another regret I’m going to have to live with.
One thing led to another, and Trig ended up making love to me that night. Don’t ask me how, or why I went that route because God only knows. All I know is that he’s the first, and only lover I've had since Reaper, and even though he was gentle, sweet, and caring, I still felt dirty. I never told him that, and I'd never get the chance. Not that I'd ever want to hurt him like that, but it didn't stop me from feeling like I was doing something wrong every time we made love after that either.
Why did I keep doing it if it made me feel like that? Simple. I wanted, no, I needed to. The closeness you have with someone when your body is connected to anothers. I needed the intimacy you got when you were with a man. I needed to feel like I was still a woman. That I was alive, and I could still function properly in all the ways a normal woman could.
It made me a horrible person, using Trig, because let’s be honest that's what I was doing; using him. But it didn't stop me from allowing it to happen over and over again. Every time we had sex, made love, fucked, whatever you want to call it, I could feel a little more of my humanity slipping away from me. I hated myself, and a small part of me hated him for not picking up on what I was doing, but at that point, I was held captive by the desperation clawing at me. The need to have someone, anyone in my life when I couldn't have the one I truly wanted.
The only conversation we had about our relationship went a little like this.
I knew Trig was sitting at the kitchen table watching me. It was something he did often, like he was trying to work me out, like I was a puzzle he could piece together. Startling me as I was putting the dishes I’d just washed away he asked,
“Are you happy with me, Adelyn? I mean, honestly happy?”
I shouldn’t have had to think about it. I should have been able to answer instantly like I knew he could. Trig is patient, easy going, sweet, and truly cares about me. It should have been a no-brainer, but I needed a minute to assess how I was feeling.
“Yes, I think so. Why do you ask?”
I was happy with Trig. He made it easy for me to crack a smile, laugh at one of his corny jokes. He didn’t pressure me, or make me confront things I simply wasn’t ready to face. All-in-all Trig was the only thing making me happy at the moment. With a sad smile he locked his eyes with mine.
“Cause you’re still so distant sometimes, baby. You know what I want, and that’s you in my bed, in my life, and on the back of my bike, but I’ve got no idea most days what it is you want. I can guess that we’re going good, that you’re happy with me, but like anyone I need the words, Adelyn. Not all the time, but sometimes would be nice.”
He’s right of course. I should’ve known that like anyone Trig would need some kind of reassurance from me that wasn’t only physical. That he’d need the words to go with my actions.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were worried I wasn’t happy. I am though, with you, I mean. I am happy you’re with me, Trig.” And it’s true I was. For the most part anyway.
With a crooked grin he pulled me into his lap, and went about showing me how happy he was to be with me. His method left no room for misunderstanding either. Trig took his time kissing every inch of my skin, running his hands over my curves, and licking every part of me his tongue could reach. It was both beautiful, and heartbreaking at the same time. His devotion to me was evident with every caress and it pained me not to be able to offer him the same.
After that day we never spoke of my, or his happiness again, and we fell into a routine. One that was familiar and soothing, as well as being confusing and soul shattering. Sometimes I wished he would leave me. That he would see I didn't want him getting closer to me, or trying to break down my walls, but he never picked up on the distance I tried to create. And if he did, he didn't take the hint. I figured it was the latter. Trig wasn’t one to give up on anything he wanted, and I was what he wanted, he’d made that clear.
Trig would bring dinner over most nights, four or five nights a week to be precise. After eating we'd watch TV, or a movie, and end up making love, with him more often than not spending the night afterwards. I hate to say there was a worst part, but there was, and it was him sleeping over that made me hate myself more than anything else.
I didn't want him to stay, more than that, I loathed when he did. It wasn't just about me liking my personal space, not just from him but from everyone in general, I also needed the time after to try and gather the fractured pieces of my heart, and try to put them back together again. It would have been kinder for me to disappear I thought, and honestly I considered it many times, the only thing stopping me was a conversation I had with Marlene one day. A conversation I’ve never forgotten, and probably never will. It changed how I looked at things that’s for sure.
About a week before Trig proposed to me, Marlene unexpectedly showed up at my front door. After letting her in, and to be truthful the only reason I did was because she came bearing coffee, she took a seat on my couch and looked at me pointedly.
"Sit down lovely, I think it's time you and I had a little chat."
I had no idea what we would have to chat about, but I did as she asked. We weren’t close, but we were friends, or at least that’s what I would categorise us as.
"Is everything okay, Marlene?"
We hadn't seen each other in months, and her being here left me feeling uneasy for some reason. She didn't keep me waiting, or wondering for long, nor did I think she would. Marlene is the straightest shooter I know, and that includes the men from Vengeance MC that I’ve learnt are blunt to the point of being ruthless.
"I hear there've been some big changes for you, girly. New man,
feelings around town about you are taking a turn for the better, the club's come around where you're concerned too; all good things. What I'm not getting is why you've barely shown your face around for months."
It's not a question, more of a statement, and I've got no idea how to answer her. It’s not untrue, what she’s saying. The club has become more welcoming, and not only because I’ve been spending time with Trig. They started coming around while I was in the hospital, and since then have been trying to involve me where they can. I’m not sure about their intentions, or why they’ve had a change of heart, and I’m still wary around them, but it’s nice not having to worry about the awful things they might say when I see them.
"Um..."
"What happened, it was horrible lovely, just awful, and I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer sweetheart. No woman should have to go through something like that. And I get that what Reaper did was worse, but you've got to move on, Ade. It's time. It's probably been time for longer than you want to admit."
She's right, it is time to move on, I know that, and I’ve known it for months, but that doesn't make me feel any more comfortable about abandoning my dreams. The one's I have late at night when I know Trig is sleeping. The one's I would never share with another soul. Dreams that won’t come true, but for some reason my heart doesn’t want to release its hold on, so with that in mind I answer Marlene the only way I can.
"I know."
With a look of sympathy Marlene sighs,
"I had a man once too, one I thought the sun rose and set with, but it wasn't meant to be. And the issues we had don't even come remotely close to the one's you've had to wade through. That said, I had to let go of him just the same as you have to let go of Reaper. Sometimes we can't have the one our heart yearns for, lovely. Sometimes we've got to take the one we're blessed enough to be gifted with."
And she’s right, again. No matter how I looked at it, Trig was a gift. He swooped in and saved me from myself when I needed him most, and I wouldn't undermine that by pining for a man I couldn't have, whether it was ultimately his decision or not, it had become my choice. It was time to let go of the past, and all the things that would never be.
I didn’t know how to tell Trig any of what Marlene talked to me about that day without upsetting him, so I didn't say anything at all. I didn’t even tell him she’d been there. What I did do was let him wrap me in his arms at night waiting until he drifted off to sleep before disentangling myself from him, and going to sleep on the couch in the living room.
I did it silently, I did it respectfully, but it was the only way I knew how to get the space I craved without having to explain why I needed it. Knowing that I was giving him something he needed, which was to fall asleep with me, was enough to satisfy a small part of the inequality in our relationship. That was something I did have in me to give, so I gave it freely.
So as not to hurt him, or let him know I wasn’t in fact with him the whole night I simply pretended I woke before him, made him breakfast, and then he would be on his way to do whatever it was he did for the club. I never asked, and he didn't tell. It wasn't my business, and to be blunt, I never felt the urge to know more about his life and what it was he did for a living. And it worked for us, until it didn't any more…Until nothing worked for us anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Max
“Do I need a reason? I’m a fucking biker after all…”
– Max ‘Reaper’ Andrews
If you’d told me a week ago I’d be attending Trig’s funeral four days after he confronted me on my front lawn, I’d have called you a fucking liar. But seeing as I’m standing here in the rain, on a cold, miserable dark Sunday watching a good brother, a good man be lowered into the ground you’d have been right.
Leo ‘Trig’ Harding was a better man than I could ever be, because even standing graveside, soaking wet, side-by-side with more than fifty Devil’s Spawn members from across three states, I’m still focused on one thing; Adelyn. The rain’s doing nothing to hide the tears cascading down her face, it’s plain to see for anyone looking that she’s devastated by the loss of her fiancée. And if that isn’t the fucking kicker in all this.
For all I know they went ahead and got married. I could very well be staring at Trig’s widow as we speak, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to take my eyes off her. I’ve tried. Fuck, have I tried. No matter what I do my eyes continue to seek her out. No amount of forcing myself to look away is working. She’s all I see, she’s all I’ve seen for the last three and a bit years.
I should know whether they got married or not, and I would if I hadn’t taken off after the revelation that Adelyn was carrying my daughter before everything went to shit, and we lost her. That’s right, I was a fucking coward and took off before I had to speak to either of them. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, it seems that I’ve been doing nothing but taking off when people need me most, and I’ve been doing it for most of my life. When I’m not running, I’m fucking things up, so the way I see it I’m doing everyone a favor being gone. Or that’s what I tell myself anyway.
Answering the call from Priest four days ago the last thing I expected to hear was we’d lost a brother, let alone Trig. And the way he’d died, fuck. The way he’d died will haunt me for the rest of my days.
“Yeah?”
I was tired, so fucking tired, but when Priest’s hoarse voice crackled through the phone line I was instantly on alert.
“Reaper, brother. I need you to come home A-SAP.”
Waiting a few seconds in silence for him to continue I realise quickly he isn’t going to, so I ask,
“What’s going on? You need backup on something, Priest?”
“Not this time, brother. We’ve lost one of ours, and I need you here to help deal with the fallout.”
Say fucking what? The club might have enemies, we’ve had our fair share of run-ins with other MC’s, random fuckwits that think they can strong-arm us, and a few tweakers, but none of them would be stupid enough to take out a Devil’s Spawn member. Especially seeing as shit around the club has been under control, quiet even for so long.
“Who?” I rasp out.
Jesus, don’t let him say Jones or Pipe, I chant to myself. I sound like an asshole praying to God it isn’t either of them, and not anyone else, but they’re like family to me, if I lost one of them I don’t know what I’d do.
Priest’s voice is shaky at best when he replies.
“Trig. Fuck me, Reaper it wasn’t fucking pretty.” Taking a deep breath he goes on to explain what happened, and the weight that’s settled on my shoulders moves south, practically crushing my chest at what I hear next.
From the little he told me, from the little any of them knew, Trig was asleep in bed at Adelyn’s when he took a bullet to the head. If that wasn’t gruesome enough, and trust me when a bullet enters the skull at close range that shit is fucking gruesome, it was a sawn off shotgun that was used. I can only imagine the carnage my brothers walked in on.
There’s one thing plaguing me though.
“Where was Adelyn, Priest? Please fucking tell me she wasn’t there.” The lump in my throat grows, as does the silence between us.
Eventually Priest clears his throat,
“She was there Reaper, but she wasn’t in the room when it happened. Said she fell asleep on the couch watching a movie, or some shit. She didn’t hear the fucker come in, and from what I can put together it was the shot being fired that woke her. Whoever was in there got out without being seen, which leads me to think whoever it was knew the layout of that house. They knew how to get in, and where the main bedroom was, that shit doesn’t spell stranger, Reaper. I’ve got no choice at this point but to let the cops carry out their investigation. Adelyn’s at the station now giving her statement, been there for just over two hours, and Lila’s flying in from Dallas overnight. Gotta round up all the brothers and break the news together, Reaper. That means your ass needs to come home, and before you say it, I don’t
give a fuck where you’re at, what you’re doing, or how long it’ll take you to drag your ass from wherever you are to here, you’ll ride all night if you have to, but you’ll get your fucking ass here, you feel me?”
Of course I’ll be there, he shouldn’t have to command it, and he should know better than to question my loyalty to the club, or my brothers. Regardless that the brother we’ll be laying to rest was the one who was with my girl, I’d never disrespect his memory by not being there for his final goodbye.
“I fucking hear you. But you hear me when I say this Priest, because it’s the only time I’m gonna say it; you ever fucking think about questioning I’ll do the right thing in circumstance like this again, and I’ll kick your ass. I don’t give a fuck who you are, to me you’re the guy I grew up with, and the one that’ll be on the receiving end of my boot if you say shit like that again, yeah?”
Chuckling he says,
“Good to have your surly ass back. Get home, Reaper. There’s a certain lady that’ll need your support whether she asks for it or not.”
“How’s she dealing? She holding up alright?” It’s a stupid fucking question. How would anyone hold up after seeing their fiancée/husband’s head blown across their bed?
Captive: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel Page 17
