by Jordan Marie
“Michael…”
“What?” I ask, exasperated and nearing the end of my rope. I make it back to my place I will not give this woman the time of day. She could literally choke and need me to give her CPR and I’d refuse. I will stop giving into my instincts where Hayden is concerned.
“You seem…upset…well, more so than usual,” she says as if that’s an explanation to why she’s here, when it’s not. It’s ridiculous. This is why she followed me out there?
“Go back in, Hayden, before someone sees you with the beast,” I spit out at her, then I throw the truck in reverse, and back out. She jumps back to keep the truck from hitting her. There’s no way I would have hit her. I’m not that far gone. Not yet.
Lucy was right.
Hell, everyone was right.
I really am an animal.
A beast.
23
Hayden
Michael’s words hit me like a hard slap to the face. I’m such a moron. Does he really think I don’t want to be seen with him? That seems unreal to me, but his parting shot at me seems to indicate that.
I walk slowly back to the reception area. My mind keeps going over everything that just happened. How could Michael think I wouldn’t want to be seen with him? That concept is so foreign to me. I think I’m in shock.
“Miss Graham,” the receptionist calls, demanding my attention.
“Yes?” I ask, walking to her.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule.”
“What? Why?”
“The doctor is booked up and when we called your name you weren’t in here. It wouldn’t be fair to put everyone in here off while we wait for you now, would it?” I look around the room and there are a few people here, but only like three or four. Besides, I was only outside for five minutes, ten tops.
“I really need to see the doctor. I was only outside for a few minutes. Surely, you can work me in. I am supposed to have my ultrasound today, it’s the first time since I got out of the hospital.”
“I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do,” she says and the look on her face says there is, but she’s not doing it. It also signifies she’s doing this on purpose and hates me.
I hate her too, and I’d like nothing more than to slap the hell out of her. I don’t though. I have bit my tongue since moving here and I continue doing it for one reason. I need quiet. I need to be accepted here if only for my daughter’s sake. If what Charlie says is true, Whitley is the only place close that I might be safe from the Dwellers. Somehow my useless brother managed to do one thing for me. He somehow gave me a sanctuary. I am grateful for that, even if I hate him for so many other things. I need safety for Maggie. I can’t let closed-minded people like this bitch push me away or cause me to react.
Charlie always tells me that stirring shit only spreads the stink around and attracts more flies. She’s not wrong, and really, I’ve had too much shit…too much. I don’t want more, and I don’t want any of it to splatter on my child. If I had the money, I would have moved farther away. I would have moved to a place no one had heard of the Dwellers. I don’t have that luxury, and I’m scared I might get in a bigger mess. The Dwellers consider me their property, even now. They have a lot of enemies. That much I know for sure. What happens if I end up among those people who think they can use me to lash out at them? Or worse use Maggie.
So, as much as I hate it, I took the small house my brother gave me and the sanctuary I’m told he found me. I still don’t know why he did it. Maybe he felt guilty. I don’t fucking know or particularly care. He sent me a goodbye letter years ago telling me his sins had finally caught up with him and that he was sorry. It was too little and way too late for that to mend whatever bridges had been burned between us. I don’t know what happened to him. From the hints in the letter, I figured it wasn’t good. I hurt over that. I did. Yet, and I know it sounds cold, I had washed my hands of my brother. When I needed him the most he betrayed me. He betrayed me in the worst way imaginable. He may have helped me in the end…but by then too much damage had been done. I hope God has mercy for him, I’m not a good person, because I have none.
“When can I reschedule?” I ask the receptionist, feeling deflated. If I had any pride I’d tell her to go fuck herself, and I hate myself that I don’t. She gives me a date which is just a couple days away. I look at the card, nod my head in agreement, and leave.
I walk outside feeling completely dejected. I shouldn’t have panicked about Michael. I just didn’t want him to see the way the girls in the office treated me. I really didn’t want him to see how the doctor felt about me. I saw the look on Michael’s face that day in the diner around the Dwellers. I think if I saw it again—or something worse, it would crush me. In a very strange way it feels like I have a friendship with Michael now, and I really want to keep it.
I look down at the appointment card in my hand again. Maybe I can ask Pastor Sturgill if he could start taking me into the city for my appointments? I could trade baked goods for the ride. It’s not ideal, but as I’m getting farther along in my pregnancy, I’m starting to worry. If these people hate me this much, what happens if something goes wrong and the baby and I are in danger? If they look at me now like I’m worse than the dirt under their fingernails, how can I trust them to guard my child’s life when it counts the most? Of course, the other side of that coin is the fact that the Dwellers are in the city. My sanctuary, such as it is, could be in danger. I’m worrying enough about the actual delivery, but Charlie assures me the Dwellers are terrified of the Torasani family, and those are the people my brother brokered a deal with. I’d feel more secure if it wasn’t so confusing and…unknown.
With a heavy sigh, I take off walking. I should go to the diner, but I just have too much on my mind right now. I pull my thick blue shawl tighter around me and take off walking the direction of home. It’s a nice day for a change and maybe my time alone will help clear my mind.
24
Beast
I shouldn’t have let her get to me. She doesn’t mean anything—just another dumb bitch. God, sometimes I get so fucking tired of going. So fucking tired of breathing. I’ve been parked out by a local marina for thirty minutes doing nothing but watching the water. They’ve let the levels of the lake down for the winter and it looks as sad as I fucking feel. No. Sad is not a good word for what I feel. Sad is a lukewarm description. What I feel inside of me, I’ve never found words to describe. I’m not sure they’re invented. All I know is that now I’m broken and I’m pretty sure everything inside of me is … black.
I give up trying to figure shit out and start driving home. Fuck it all. I thought leaving the club would make things easier. It has in a way. At least now I’m not faced with happy couples and children playing every damn day. I don’t have to see their stares or hear the whispers. I don’t even have to talk. Life is better this way. My decision to leave was the right one. I just need to make sure I keep Hayden away from me, because for some reason she’s become a weakness.
I get about five minutes out of town when I see her. Motherfucker. Hayden is walking along the side of the road, wrapped up in that old, worn-out, blue coat she was wearing. Shit, it’s not even a coat, more of a worn wrap she puts around herself. It’s not as cold today, but it’s still too damn cold for her to be walking like this. What the fuck is she doing here anyway? She was supposed to be at the doctor’s office. It’s only been half an hour since I left her…at least not much over that—and she’s walking.
I pull up beside her and hit the button to roll down the passenger window. I do it even knowing I shouldn’t. I do it even knowing that I had just decided to stay far away from this woman. I do it thinking I have lost my ever-lovin’ mind.
“Get in,” I bark.
Hayden’s big eyes widen in surprise and she jumps. That’s not the first thing I notice however. That would be the tears on her face. Still, even though she’s been crying, when she sees me she smiles. She smiles. She gets in the truck and closes t
he door quickly.
“Thanks. I swear when I decided to walk home, I really thought it was closer,” she murmurs.
“You’re crying,” I point out. She looks up from where she’s trying to latch her seatbelt and sighs. Then she finishes what she was doing, and looks out the window.
“I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t think anyone would catch me,” she half-laughs at herself.
“Is…Maggie okay?” I ask, despite not wanting to.
Her face snaps to mine. Her pale, unadorned lips are shaped like an ‘o’ and her face flushes in pleasure as her eyes heat. What the hell?
“You’re the first person to call her Maggie with me,” she responds, not answering my question, but at least explaining the look on her face.
“Answer me,” I grumble; the look on her face does things to me I can’t explain, but I’m pretty sure I don’t like it. Maybe.
“She’s fine…or well…I guess. They couldn’t see me,” she pauses for a second and gets a faraway look in her eye before continuing. “The doctor had an emergency. It’s fine though. I’m actually thinking of switching doctors. Maybe I’ll start going to one in the city,” she says, and the last part her voice lowers as she nervously picks at the frayed end of her coat. For some reason, I get the distinct impression she’s lying to me. “Michael? Can I tell you something?” she asks, her voice dropping down and going even softer than before. Her gray eyes are on me. I’ve turned my attention back to the road, but even turning away from them, I can feel their intensity as it pierces through me. I want to say no, because I’ve already crossed the line I drew in the sand. I was done with her. It was time to go back to the reason I got here and it doesn’t involve bringing more unwanted people into my life. I ignore all of that.
“Yes,” I tell her, wishing like fuck I could call the words back even as I say them.
“It wasn’t you.”
I turn into our joined driveways, parking by her back door. I stare straight ahead for a second, not sure where to go with this conversation—or even if I wanted to.
“You had it all backwards. In the doctor’s office. I wasn’t ashamed of you. Why you would even think that, I don’t understand. I mean, you have looked in the mirror, right? Okay so your beard has gone a little crazy and your hair could use a bit of a trim, still…”
“Stop,” I growl, her rattling annoying me, but this subject pissing me off even more.
“Sorry,” she says, but she doesn’t sound sorry. She proves this when she continues on. “I’m just saying I was embarrassed.”
“Get out,” I growl, already knowing she was, and I don’t want to hear about it or hear her apologies. It’s the truth. It is what it is, and I don’t really give a fuck—
“It’s just I saw the look on your face when those men used the nickname that Bl…” she stops talking. Her hands are shaking…No. That’s not it. It’s not her hands but her entire body trembling and the force of that causes her hands to shake. Her face is white and honest to God, she appears to be a step away from passing out. I’ve seen enough fear in my life to know that’s exactly what is coming off her in waves.
“Stop,” I tell her, because whatever she wants to say, it’s scaring her to talk about it, and I honestly don’t really give a fuck.
“But you need to know,” she says, looking down at her shaking hands. God, this is a fucking headache. Why did I pick her up? Why do I keep doing this shit? What the hell is wrong with me?
“It doesn’t matter,” I growl. It is a growl and it’s full of exasperation because I’m done. I really am one hundred percent done.
“It does! It was just pride. I think of you as my friend, and I just…God, I’m making a mess of this.”
Her friend? Fuck, me. Jesus. I’ve sworn off women since Jan. I was pretty much done in general. I feel cold inside. I have nothing to offer anyone, especially women. I sure as fuck don’t want one as a friend. I have no idea what to say to her. I tighten my hands up on the steering wheel and wait for her to get the fuck out of here.
“People don’t like me, Michael,” she confesses, tearfully. I don’t know what the fuck I expected from her. This wasn’t it, however. I snap my head around to look at her. “And believe me when I tell you they don’t like me in a way that they don’t make a secret of it. And…well…I didn’t want you to see it. I didn’t want things to change between us. Anyways, I just wanted to say…I’m sorry.”
There’s a lot to take in here. I can’t even begin to process her confession before she jumps out of the truck, runs to her house and disappears inside. I’m left here staring after her thinking the one sentence that seems to apply with every run-in I have with Hayden.
What the fuck?
25
Beast
People don’t like me Michael.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been haunted by anything but Annabelle’s screams. For two days now, the look on Hayden’s face and her distraught confession has taken over. It should be a welcomed relief, and maybe it is a little, but after years and years of living like this, the change is too abrupt. I’ve lost so much of Annabelle. So much of her is fading. As much as I hate the nightmares I crave them too. I need them. I need my daughter. Hayden is stealing those memories away from me and it must stop. I should stop her before the dreams never come back.
I’ve been watching her out the window as she moves around. There’s something that is becoming increasingly clear. Hayden Graham is broken too. I get that, and maybe I understand it more than anyone could. I sympathize with her. That also needs to stop. She’s getting under my skin, and I don’t want that. She’s trying to slip beneath my guard and again, that too should stop. I can’t allow her to get close.
What I need is a plan. That’s how I’ve lived my life. Plans are how I’ve survived and made sure my club was safe. I like things clear cut. You see what needs to be done, and you do it. Simple as that. I need to figure out how to make it clear to Hayden that we aren’t friends. That we aren’t even neighbors. I’m here to be alone. That’s it. Once I set the record straight it will be okay and life can return back to normal.
“Can I come up?” I hear her from the stairway below. Motherfucker. The loft apartment has no door. You come through the door in the barn that leads to the stairs and the loft is all open. I like that it’s open and normally it helps me feel less caged in. Until today. Today, I don’t like it at all. Why the fuck didn’t I lock the door after I went out to my bike last night? Maybe because I was shit-faced. Jesus. I don’t want her in here. I. Do. Not. Want. Her. In—
“Hi,” she says, taking a deep breath. She’s holding her stomach, and smiling at me. She looks so young and innocent.
I want to scream at her to get out. I want to command her to leave. The words freeze, and instead, I grunt my displeasure and just stare at her. I’m sitting on the beat up old sofa and seeing her in my space is making it hard for me to even move. Leave. I try and will the word into her brain, even if I’m not saying it aloud. It doesn’t work.
“Shew! Stairs are rough on a pregnant woman. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
You are. For some reason, I don’t say that to her either, I just stare at her.
“Wow, this place hasn’t changed. My uh…brother used to stay here some. He was an asshole though, so I tried to never come over here. I was kind of glad when the front door was chained. I had hoped whoever he rented it from forgot about the place. I mean it’s been empty for so long. I liked being alone. Obviously though I mean, it’s good you’re here. I didn’t mean it like how that sounded. Well, not really,” she rattles on, with her face getting redder by the second. She’s obviously nervous. She keeps grabbing the end of her shirt with her free hand, curling the fabric under her fingers. Embarrassment is so thick on her face she’d glow in the dark. It’s kind of pathetic and that’s the only reason I don’t call her out and make her leave. The only reason.
“It’s just…I wanted to bring this to you. I’ve got a do
ctor’s appointment today, and I need to head out. I didn’t want to just leave this outside. I thought you might like some of them for breakfast,” she continues, walking around the couch to face me. She hands me a white plastic container. I take it from her, opening it, and finding blueberry muffins inside. “I uh…make them from scratch. The store had a sale on fresh blueberries the other day and well, I couldn’t resist. Even though muffins aren’t in big demand. People would rather have cookies and cakes…pies are big too. But well…I like muffins,” she says, her voice breaking off uncomfortably, and she’s avoiding my eyes now. The woman seriously talks ninety-miles-an-hour.
I want to throw the muffins back at her. I want to demand she leaves. Instead, I find myself taking a bite of one. Motherfucker. At first bite, blueberry flavor hits my tongue; the spongey cake around it is light and moist and better than anything I’ve ever eaten in my life. She’s looking at me expectantly and I open my mouth to once again try to make her go.
“They’re really good,” I tell her. My brain and mouth are totally going against my command, and that’s just fucked up. What the hell is Hayden doing to me? Those gray eyes of hers light up, and she stops wringing her hands together. Those pale lips, which I thought were way too thin, bloom out into a full-fledged smile and she looks almost…pretty. Christ.
“I’m so glad you like them. I have plenty of time, but I like to drive slow in my car. Better safe than sorry. So, I better get going. Me and Maggie have a date with a sonogram,” she laughs holding her stomach. “You have a good day, Michael,” she adds, turning to walk back down the stairs.
