“It is different for me. I love the person involved, but I’m not in love with them. The attacks…they aren’t personal so they don’t cut as deep as the ones you’re taking, Carrie.”
“Even when it’s good, there are still…things that keep it from being what it should be, Nicole,” I confess, like it’s a dirty little secret. It hurts that I couldn’t hold Jacob while we made love. It cuts that I couldn’t hold him close and love him the way I have dreamed of for years.
“I know, baby,” She says, only she doesn’t—not really.
“I’m so tired,” I say for no reason in particular, just that I am. I am bone-deep tired. I think if I managed to shut my brain down and go to sleep, I’d sleep for days, weeks even.
“There’s something else I know,” Nicole says getting off the bed and picking up the towel I had used.
“What’s that?” I ask not really caring. I lay back down against the pillow now that Nicole has left the bed.
“If the roles were reversed and it was me and Dragon? I’d fight so fucking hard to pull him out of the hell he was in. I’d fight with everything I had and I wouldn’t give up no matter what. I’d fight with my last dying breath, Carrie.”
“Dragon loves you,” I answer. If Jacob loved me, I’d never waiver. I don’t have the security of that, I don’t think I ever will and that’s where the problem lies.
“True, but I love Dragon. I love him so much that I’d fight just for the chance that someday he’d be happy. You need to decide if you love Jacob that much, or if everyone and their mothers are right and you’re too young to know that kind of love.”
“They think I’m too young?” I ask, hurt but annoyed because it seems I’ve been the topic of conversation among the Savage MC compound.
“Why do you think they moved you away from the parties and things? They see you as a young kid sister they need to protect. Hell Crusher even lets you call him by a name he hates.”
“They don’t,” I argue, though warmth fills me at the thought of these tough men thinking of me as family.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she says and damn there goes that feeling of belonging out the window. “Bull absolutely does not think of you as a sister.”
Yeah, I’m not going there.
“Turn the light out, I need to sleep,” I say rolling over on my side and curling back into Jacob’s pillow.
“Just saying, hooking yourself up to Bull’s wagon would definitely be easier and he’d be good to you.”
“He’s not Jacob,” I whisper the sad truth, “I don’t want anyone but Jacob.”
“That’s how I knew Dragon was the one for me, Carrie.”
I sigh, my brain is on overload.
“Do you know, I’m not that much older than you are?”
I did. I don’t say anything.
“I have a brother. No one knows that. He’s actually a half-brother, who is ten years older than I am. A brother and we never talk, ever.”
“I…” Nicole goes on before I have a chance to say anything.
“He’s thirty-five years old and all he can do is drink and make mess after mess. My father always bails him out. Me, they refuse to talk to. Even when I sent word they were going to be grandparents, they wouldn’t talk. They’re older, my brother is older.”
“Nicole…”
“My point Care Bear, is that age is just a number. When I look at you I don’t see a young girl who doesn’t know her mind. I see a woman who has survived. I see a woman who is in love.”
“Care Bear?” I ask, my heart feeling a little lighter.
“Dragon says he heard Dancer call you that. I like it. It fits you.”
I don’t reply and she must give up, because she turns out the light. I hear the squeak of the door.
“Nicole?”
“Yeah?”
“I won’t give up.”
“I never thought you would. Take a nap, I’ll be out here with Bull if you need me.”
“What was all of this?”
“Even strong women need a kick in the pants.”
“So you just kicked me?”
“You’re welcome,” she says and I hear the door close.
I fall asleep with a smile on my lips for some reason.
Chapter 20
Dragon
I’m probably making a mistake. Hell, I don’t know. I’ve wrestled with it for a week and I’m still not sure how to handle things. The only thing clear is that Dancer is not getting better. He may have allowed Carrie to get closer to him, but a damned fool could see he is just going through the motions. If I continue to ignore it and do nothing? If I do that and Dancer keeps spiraling? That will be on me. So, I know I have to try and reach him. The thing is, I have no fucking idea how to do that.
When I talked with Nicole in Dance’s hospital room and he started having a nightmare, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought he was reliving almost drowning. I know he is having trouble adjusting to the outside and I know he has secrets. I had no idea how bad those secrets are.
When he screamed out against unseen men holding him down, my blood ran cold. When he cried out how he would gut them? My heart stopped. When Dance cried? Cried in his motherfucking sleep? I wanted to join in. I didn’t. My woman did. She cried and looked at me with such sadness, I wanted to scream. Instead I held her close, buried my face into her neck and tried to absorb her. His words didn’t stop, each one more horrific than the next. When Nicole could take no more, I kissed her forehead and squeezed her shoulder. Then, I watched her leave.
It was all I could do not to leave with her. She ran from the room, ran away from the horrible truth. I didn’t. I stood there listening to a story unfold that brought me to my fucking knees.
Now this shit is like acid swimming in my system. I need to try and help Dance. I need to be here for him, like I failed to do when he was locked up. I just don’t know how. I am at a loss. So, I find myself here. I figure I am fucking up, but I’m afraid not to try. Me…afraid. Fuck.
When Dancer makes it into the club the room is eerily quiet. There’s no music, no crowds, nothing. It’s empty with the exception of me. I’m sitting at a table with a bottle of Jack and two glasses.
“What the fuck is this?” Dancer demands stopping at the door. His hands are pushed so far in his damn jeans, it’s a wonder the pockets don’t rip.
I don’t respond. I figure he knows what is going on. I pour two drinks and kick a chair out in front of me. I watch his hand shake as he rakes it across his beard. He doesn’t want this. Hell, I don’t want this.
“Say what’s on your mind,” he orders, watching me.
I take my shot and down it quickly. I drop the glass back on the table. The sound echoes in the room.
“Sit.”
“I don’t feel like doing this shit…”
“SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” I yell, because I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but fuck I don’t need it to be any harder either.
“Drag, this isn’t your concern, this isn’t your fight.”
“Don’t make me tell you again, Dance.”
He sits down, refusing to look at me. He downs the drink I poured and then pours another one, downing it just as quick.
My phone is sitting on the table, the ringer is turned off, but it vibrates.
I don’t bother looking at the number, already knowing who it is. The boys know what is going down tonight. They know to stay away from the club. A few are outside monitoring for protection, but they know not to come in.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Just letting you know I’m here, sweetheart. You were right. Carrie’s pretty upset, she is crying in the bath right now.”
“Thanks baby, try to stay off your feet and tell Bull if he don’t keep you two safe I’ll…”
“I’m pregnant Dragon, not struck with some dreaded disease. I’ll be fine. Stop worrying, you’re starting to sound like a mother hen.”
We just found out she is pregnant. It still seems unreal to me. My hea
rt is so full of Nicole; I never realized there would be room for more. Nicole managed to make that possible though. She gives me more even when I don’t realize I want or need it.
“Whatever Mama, I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Love you, Dragon. Forever.”
“Forever, Mama.”
I hang up and find Dancer just staring at an empty glass in his hand. I take a deep breath and decide to just dive in.
“It can’t keep going on like this, Dance.”
“Don’t know what you mean,” he lies and I know he is lying.
“Tell me another one,” I respond, filling our glasses again. I just stare at mine, the amber liquid blurring.
“I’ve got a handle on shit,” he lies yet again.
I guess hardball it is.
“You look like death warmed over, your woman is currently in a bathroom crying over your sorry ass and all this is after you drove your vehicle into a fucking lake trying to end it all. Doesn’t sound at-fucking-all like you’ve got a handle on shit.”
“I believe I said I don’t want to talk about this,” he growls, moving to stand. “I’m not two, I’m a grown ass man and I do not want to do this.”
I grab his wrist to hold him in place.
“You move out of this chair and you will regret it. We’re going to have this shit out. We’re going to have it out now and we’re going to work through it. I will not lose another brother. I will not lose you. Do you hear me, Dance?”
“You’ve become a meddlesome motherfucker since I’ve been gone, Dragon,” he sighs, but relaxes back into his seat. Only then do I let go and take another drink. Fuck, I’m going to need it.
“You want to tell me why driving your car off a ledge is better than reaching out to your family?”
“I’m not getting why you think this is your business. You weren’t there. You haven’t lived any of this shit. I have. If I don’t want to discuss it, then by god I should have that right.”
He’s right, I think for a second, but disregard it. If he hadn’t tried to end it, he’d be right. If he was coping worth a damn, he’d be right. He’s dong none of those things.
“It is my business. You’re my business. You’re family.”
“This family is so fucked up Drag. I’m not sure that’s a good thing anymore.”
It’s a low blow, but I allow it. I still can’t figure out how I missed the signs about Irish.
“You can talk or I will, Dance. It makes not one damned bit of difference to me at this point.”
“I got nothing to say.”
I sigh. I was hoping this would go a different way.
“When you were unconscious at the hospital you had dreams,” I watch as my brother’s face turns pale white.
“You don’t get to go there, Dragon,” he says, the words lie heavy in the quiet room. His voice is laced with a cold anger that could chill a man to the bone. “This is my fucking life, and you do not get to go there! You do not get to fucking discuss it and we’re not talking about this fucking shit!”
He gets up throwing his glass across the room. I don’t know where it lands. I’m too busy watching my brother. Too busy seeing the misery inside of him literally bleed to the surface.
“This does not concern you, Dragon. This has nothing to do with you. This is my fucking life and I will deal with this shit the way I want to!” He growls starting towards the door.
“You’re not dealing with it, Dance. Man, you aren’t even going to the damn therapy appointments the hospital set up.”
“You’ve been fucking checking up on me? What the hell gives you the right?” He yells, turning around to look at me.
“Dance man, I care about you. Hell, we all do. I want to help you.”
“You can’t help me! You don’t know a fucking thing about it! While you were here finding the woman you wanted, I was the one rotting away! I was the one locked behind steel doors, spending my nights staring through bars! I was the one being beat down by the guards! I was the one whose soul was shriveling inside—dying little by little, piece by piece, every fucking, damned day! I was the one who was held down and beaten nearly unconscious while the guards laughed! I was the one they forced! I was the one…SON OF A BITCH! JUST STAY OUT OF IT! It was me, not you, not Crusher, not motherfucking Bull, none of you! It was me! So, don’t you fucking try to tell me what the fuck I need to do! You have no clue! NONE!”
He slams out of the room and I let him go. I let him go, because I have no idea what to do. Fuck, maybe I’ve made it worse.
I have to do something. Anything, because some things can’t be unheard, some things can’t be undone. Some things eat holes in you. My brother has holes the size of the fucking Grand Canyon eating him alive and I don’t have the first idea of how to help him, but I have to try. I have to.
I need to start finding who exactly was involved in those attacks—every last fucking one. I can’t use Freak or none of the boys though. This secret is Dance’s and I will NOT add to his pain, but I am going to find every last man involved and then I will make them bleed and beg for death, before I end them. Believe me, I will end them. I will.
Chapter 21
Dancer
I don’t want to say I ran out of there, but I walked fast. I don’t look back. I’m mad, not so much at Dragon—more at the world. I knew what was coming and I knew I didn’t want to hear what Dragon had to say. I knew I couldn’t handle it. I should have turned and left immediately. Why the fuck didn’t I leave?
I jump on my bike and point it towards Pussy’s. I should go home to Carrie. I should, but I can’t. I need to get lost in a bottle. I can’t stand her eyes looking at me in sadness and disappointment. I’ve disappointed her way too much.
My drive there is quick. I drive hard and fast, letting the cold air hit my face. I welcome the sting and the numbness it eventually brings. I curse the tears I feel hitting my face. Men do not cry. Real men! Strong men! I don’t feel strong. Hell, I’m not strong. Things like what happened to me, they don’t happen to strong men. I scream out into the night air. It doesn’t help—not one damn bit.
I grab a seat at the bar and proceed to lose myself. People seem to be giving me a wide berth, I’m glad. Six, is working as a bartender tonight, he nods, but doesn’t speak. Does he know too? Did Dragon tell all the men? My hand shakes in fear at the thought. I don’t want anyone to know. I can’t handle anyone knowing. I want to kill Dragon for knowing. I wrap my hand around the shot glass. I hold it tight to hide the visible signs of the hell I’m going through.
I’ve never been able to say the word out loud—not once. I’ve tried, but giving voice to the word is like giving it life—giving it control. I was attacked? That’s easy. I was beaten? Still, no problem. Yet, saying aloud the ugly words, the more ‘real’ words is impossible. One word keeps repeating over and over in my brain. The mere thought of it feels as if my insides are on fire and I’m going to be devoured by the flames and burned alive. Rape! I’ve been… raped!
Rape is something that happens to the weak. To women who can’t protect themselves. It does not happen to men. It sure as hell doesn’t happen to strong men, men who are able to take care of themselves. It doesn’t happen to men who can protect people they care about.
I was raped!
I leave the glass behind and just grab the bottle, taking a swig out of it. Carrie wants to hitch her wagon to me. She wants me, but how can she want the man I really am? How much would her love turn to disgust if she knew the truth? I should tell her. I should tell her and end this fucking fairytale she’s concocted in her head.
*
I’ve been here awhile now. I couldn’t tell you how long. I really couldn’t. It’s a blur. Time ceased to exist half a bottle ago. I want to be back in bed with Carrie. I want to lie next to her and listen to her breathe and forget, if only for a minute. That’s another weakness I guess. A real man wouldn’t crave escape, he wouldn’t need to pretend.
“Dance man, how about
I take you home?” I look up to see Crush standing beside me.
“No thanks,” I say. My words sound off to me, but I don’t really care.
“Man, Carrie’s worried about you. Let’s get you home and you can sleep it off.”
“Carrie, always fucking Carrie,” I growl out, reaching for another drink, but the bottle is empty now. When did that happen?
“C’mon Dance, your head is all fucked up. Let’s get you home so you can sleep it off. Things will look better in the morning, they always do.”
“They don’t. Trust me Crusher, sometimes things are much fucking worse in the morning. You got a woman?”
“Not on most days.”
“Don’t fucking get one, they don’t stop until they ruin your life. They bat their eyes and smile at you and think you should just drop to your knees in front of them. Don’t fucking get a woman, Crusher.”
“Dance, man I happen to like getting on my knees for a woman.”
“Then get a pussy. Pussy is free. Pussy is easy. HEY! This man needs pussy! Who’s going to help him out?”
Crusher snorts and helps to steady me as I get up. The room sways, but eventually comes to a stop.
“Don’t worry, Crusher. You’ll get all kinds of pussy now. Women run to a man with a dick because they think they can sink their claws into him. They want to make us into some kind of hero who can do anything. It’s crazy.”
“C’mon let’s get you in the cage.”
“Cars are not cages. I have been in a fucking cage, not the same man. It’s not the same.”
“Yeah brother, you’re right. Let’s get you in the car.”
I stare at the black suburban in front of me. How’d we get outside? Fuck if I know at this point. I see fucking Bull sitting in the passenger side, so I slide in the back when Crusher opens the door. I almost fall out again, but Crusher holds onto my shoulder until I steady myself. I look across from me and Carrie is watching me. I don’t know why she’s here, but the look on her face is one I do not like. I have disappointed her yet again. Didn’t I warn her? I am not a man to hang your hat on. I never have been.
Trusting Bull: Savage Brothers MC Page 31
