by Colbie Kay
"At the hospital in Tulsa."
She storms away from me, gets her kids, and rushes out of the clubhouse.
I'm numb. She spoke the truth in every word that fell from her mouth. I mindlessly walk to my room, not even bothering to wash his blood from my flesh.
I've been cleaning this same spot on my counter for the last ten minutes. My house has never been so spotless and dust free. And all because Devon Mayfield is the biggest asshole to ever walk this earth.
He said it would be a couple of days. I was okay the first three. By day four and five, I started calling and texting, becoming upset, crying over the man that made me open my heart to him once again. He made me fall in love with him, with the man who he is now, not the boy I used to love. I drowned my sorrows in tubs of ice cream at night and tried to hide my hurt from Zane. By day six, and now seven, I've grown angry and formed an obsession with cleaning to deal with my frustration. Eleven years ago is repeating: no returned calls, no word from him, and no one has told me anything.
Audrey hasn't returned to work yet, and when she answers the phone, she refuses to tell me what's going on. To top off this shit-tastic week, Brad has decided to start calling and texting. I answered the first call and let him apologize for what he said, but now he’s becoming stalkerish.
I thought I had prepared myself for the chance Devon could disappear again, but nope, I'm shattered as much now as I was then, if not more. And this just goes to show that I did the right thing in keeping Zane away from his father. The asshole doesn’t deserve to be in his son’s life if he can simply vanish like that again. Shit hasn’t changed at all.
There's a knock on my apartment door, cutting through my angry thoughts. I huff loudly and throw the rag down on the counter. I walk over and open the door, surprised to see Jacey standing here. "How do you know where I live?" I ask more harshly than I intended.
She shrugs. "It wasn't hard to find out. Can I come in?"
I take a deep breath. "If this is about Devon, I don’t want to hear it. You can go tell him to fuck off and stay the hell away."
She drops her eyes for a moment, and when she lifts them to mine, she has tears pooling. "Did you know he delivered mine and Bear’s son?"
My brows furrow. I shake my head.
She nods. "Yeah, we became close after that. We have a bond that goes deeper than just friends, ya’ know? And usually, I can pull him out of the darkness."
I interrupt her, "What are you talking about?"
A tear trickles down her cheek. "I've tried. God, I've fucking tried for a week now." I reach for her arm and pull her inside, shutting the door behind her. "He came back before the others, covered in blood. I don't know what happened, but something went wrong. Mullins got killed. A few of the others are wounded: Romeo, Hunter, and Pretty Boy."
My hand flies to my mouth and tears spring forth. “Oh, my God,” I whisper. That's why Audrey hasn't come back. "Mullins, that's his friend from the Army? The one I tattooed?"
She nods.
I breathe out, "Shit."
"Doc hasn't left his room in a week, Daphne. He won't eat, he hasn't showered. He's still wearing his friend's blood. I can't pull him out this time. I'm scared he's going to do something." She becomes more frantic with each word spoken. "You have to help him!" She wipes her tears away, and my own are falling now. He's not the biggest asshole to walk the earth. I am. “You’re the only one who can. At least, I hope you can.”
"I thought he disappeared again," I sob, "I've been hurt and angry with him. Thought horrible things about him.”
She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t leave you again. You didn’t know. All that matters right now is getting him better.”
“Let's go!" I don't bother grabbing anything or locking my door as I run out of my apartment with Jacey right behind me. Zane is at my parent's house, thankfully.
I climb into the passenger seat of Jacey's Tahoe. She peels out of the parking lot, and I grow more anxious by the minute the closer we get to the compound.
The usual forty-minute drive from my apartment takes her fifteen, and I'm practically jumping out of my seat as she parks.
I follow her through the clubhouse and to Devon's bedroom door. I put my hand on the knob, about to turn it, when Jacey's hand lands on my shoulder. I snap my head in her direction.
"Before you go in there, I have to warn you. Turn the light on and if he comes at you, move quickly."
I try swallowing the lump that has taken root in my throat. What the hell am I walking in on? Taking a deep breath, I release it, and slowly open his door. Before walking in, my hand searches the wall until I find the light switch and flip it on.
Devon is sitting at a desk his back toward me. "Devon?" I question quietly, keeping my voice calm.
He doesn't acknowledge me or move.
I close the door behind me and take a few steps closer. "Devon?" I try again.
Still nothing.
Standing beside him, I peer down at the desk. My eyes widen in shock. He's twirling a pistol with his hand and blankly staring at the wall.
"Devon, what's going on?" My lip quivers, but I try to hold back my emotions.
He barely twitches, but it's enough. I saw it.
"Put the gun away, Devon," I sternly demand.
"You need to leave, Daphne." He continues staring at the wall.
I stand firmly in place. "I'm not leaving, Dev. Talk to me."
He moves so fast. He's on his feet, staring me down with tear-filled eyes, the gun against his temple. "This is what I wanted to keep from you!" He shouts at me, shaking his head. “I told you I was fucking broken! I’m so fucking damaged, there’s no hope for me.”
My back hits the wall as I lose my footing. Tears stream down my cheeks. "Devon, please," I beg.
He cries harder, "I'm sorry." His eyes are resolved. "Take care of our son. I’ll love you forever, Daph." He pulls the trigger.
"No!" I scream, my eyes screwed shut.
“Fuck!” He yells out.
My eyes quickly open at the sound of his voice and I realize the gun jammed. I run over to him, throwing my arms around his waist and we both fall to the floor. Sobs rack both of our bodies, and his arms wrap around me. We hold each other tightly as we cry rivers of tears.
I reach behind me, take the gun from him, and place it on the floor, pushing it away from us. Minutes or hours later–I’m not sure how long–we have shed the last of our tears. Devon lays down on the floor, his arms still wrapped tightly around my waist, his head on my thighs. I take this chance to really look at his profile.
Black circles are deep around his eyes, his cheeks are a little sunken in from lack of eating, but his facial hair is trying to hide just how skinny his face really is. He's dirty from not showering, dried blood coats his skin, and his hair is greasy and unkempt.
"What happened to you, Dev?" I ask quietly.
"The shit I saw over there. The shit I had to do, it fucked with my head, Daph. It changed me. I knew I couldn't be around you and have you see me like this." He takes a deep breath and continues, "I'd be dead if it wasn't for Mullins, and I was supposed to protect him this time, but I didn't. I promised his wife he'd come home, and he didn't. It's my fault, Daphne. It's my fault that my best friend is dead. I tried to call Christy and find out when his funeral was, but she said I wasn't welcome."
I sigh heavily. "I know how close you two were, and I believe you would have saved him if you could have. I don’t believe it was your fault, Dev. You wouldn’t let someone you love die if you could prevent it."
"I need help." He begins crying again.
"I'll help you. I promise." I run my hand through his dirty hair, not even caring at the moment. I just want to comfort him, let him know that he’s not alone. "I'll make some calls and see if we can get you in somewhere."
"Thank you." He hugs me tighter.
A few stray tears fall down my own cheeks. "I'll love you forever, Dev."
"Forever," He whispers.
I hold my stomach as I walk out to the bar and over to Jacey. "Can you get him some food? I'm going to make a couple calls and then get him in the shower. He needs help, Jacey."
She nods. "He stopped taking his meds a while ago. I'm here if you need anything."
"Thank you." I sit on a bar stool as she stands.
"No." She grabs my hand in hers. "Thank you." Her lips turn up and she walks away. I pull my phone out of my pocket and do a Google search until I find the number I need.
I just got word that the plan to take out the Satan's Sinners failed. What's it going to take to destroy these cunt bastards? I run my hand through my hair, stomp outside of the shitty condemned bar I’ve made into a clubhouse in Topeka, Kansas, and pull my phone out of my pocket. My inside rat answers on the third ring.
"Your plan failed," I grit out harshly.
"You think I don't fucking know that, Deuce? I tried to take out one and killed the wrong motherfucker."
"So, what now, hmm?" I pace back and forth on the dirt covered ground. "We've tried kidnapping their bitches, we’ve tried ambushing them. What's it going to take to end the Satan's Sinners and the Cobras?" I'm more concerned with taking out the Sinners since one of them killed my boy. I want revenge, and I will get my vengeance if it's the last fucking thing I do.
"I don't know. Give me some time to think about it, and as far as I know, they haven't figured out where you’re at yet."
"I'm done keeping a low profile, and my men are growing antsy being holed up in this shitty little place, so you better work fast." My own plan to take out these fuckers begins to take root as we speak.
His deep sigh comes through the phone. "I'll do my best."
I end the call and storm back inside to call a meeting.
Everyone gathers in the small fucking space. "We need to start gaining more prospects. Go out and find as many as you fucking can. We're going to build a fucking army and take out the clubs in Wichita, and then, it will be ours." My voice booms over everyone.
It feels damn good to finally be a leader, instead of following behind Snake. I would have never become president of the Cobras MC until he was out of the picture. The pathetic fucking fact of it is, I was okay with being one of his little fucking followers until my boy was killed because of his cunt daughter.
Snake was my best friend for years, way longer than he had that bitch in his life. Yet he sided with my now enemies, the Satan’s Sinners, and so, I tried to take him out. I didn’t succeed, which is why I had to go into hiding, waiting for the right time. Now it’s time to get my justice.
My men pound their feet, shaking the whole goddamn place. They holler out their excitement, and I leave them to it. It's time for me to ride out and decide my next move.
I owe my life to Daphne. She’s my savior, my angel. After I pulled the trigger in front of her, trying to off myself, she didn't run. She didn't belittle me for the choice I made, she didn't get angry, and she didn't make me feel like the worthless piece of shit I thought I was.
What she did do was bring me food, and got me in the shower to clean myself up, washing away my friend's blood. She sat with me silently, comforting me, and crying with me. She stayed with me for two days before driving me to the airport, where I got on a plane and came to a treatment center in Arizona.
I've been here for a month now, getting help, and I’m slowly beginning to open up. Those demons are buried deep inside of me as well as in the box under my bed. I haven't made much progress yet with therapy because I don't know how to release the darkness that lives and breathes within me. My doctor here has adjusted my medication and it's starting to make me feel good again, but I have a long road ahead of me.
"Are you ready to talk today, Devon?" My therapist, Ian, asks, drawing my attention to him.
"What am I supposed to talk about?" My eyes bore into his dark ones.
He taps his pen on the notebook sitting on his desk. "Why don't you talk about your friend's death?"
"I can't," I deadpan.
He releases a deep breath of air. "You have to open up to someone, Devon. You don't trust me. I get that, so I'm going to show you something I've never shown any of my patients." Ian stands to his full height of six foot five, his dark eyes looking hesitant for a second until he begins unbuttoning his long-sleeved dress shirt.
He pulls it down his shoulders, and I get the first glimpse of tattoos. My brows furrow. Why the hell is he taking his shirt off? He turns facing away from me and that's when I see the logo covering his wide back.
The reaper stands in the middle, running down his spine. The word “Reapers” is tattooed across his shoulder blades. “Arizona MC” is tattooed at the bottom of the reaper. Holy shit! My mouth flops open and closed like a fish.
I never put two and two together, but he does have a hard appearance about him. Hell, he could rival Bear in size, and he has a scar that runs across his cheek, but you can't see where it ends because of his beard.
He spins back around and begins fixing his shirt. "I saw your cut when you first checked in. I get that you can't talk about club business, but you can talk about his death. You need to make sense of what happened, and I'm here to help you. You also need to get out what happened while you were deployed. Talking to me isn't going to take away your PTSD or depression, but it will help you deal with your demons."
I dip my head for a second, then lift it back up. He sits down on his chair across from me and I take a deep breath. "The bullet was meant for me. Mullins saw it coming and pushed me down. It hit him in his chest above his heart. It was my job to protect him, to bring him home to his family. His wife lost her husband and his kids lost their father. I made a promise and I broke it."
He nods but stays quiet. Ian runs his hand over his beard. "Why did you make that promise?"
I stare at him blankly. "Because shit wasn't supposed to go down like it did."
"But you know in the MC life you are never guaranteed tomorrow. So, why make that promise knowing it could go wrong?"
I shrug and start to get irritated by where he's going with this. "I talked to him the night before. I tried to get him to stay at the clubhouse instead of going. But he wouldn't fucking not go with us."
"And did you put him in the line of that bullet?"
My stare hardens. "No! Why would I fucking do that?"
"Did you drop to the ground and leave him to get shot and killed? Did you leave your friend to stand there while you fucking ran away?"
I sit up straighter in my chair. "No!" I grit through my teeth. My face begins heating with fury.
"So, it was his decision to ride, it was his decision to push you down and save you, it was his decision to leave his wife and kids, knowing shit could go wrong?"
"Yes."
He leans closer resting his elbows on his knees, his tone softens. "Then tell me, Devon, how is any of that your fault?"
I fall back in my seat, realization dawning on me. "It's wasn't."
"You tried to do what you could, but ultimately, every choice he made was his. Not yours. And you can't hold yourself accountable for that."
“You have a way about you.” I run my hand over my face.
He laughs a deep throaty laugh. “So I’ve been told. My way may not be ethical, it might piss you off, make you think what the fuck is this son of a bitch talking about, but I promise you, Devon, in the end, I will have done my job to the fullest of my capabilities, and I will have you see the truth in your skewed version of reality. My job is to help make you better, and I will do that by any mea
ns necessary.”
I nod and think over his words.
His dark eyes meet mine. “Do you want to dig any deeper today? Want to talk about anything else?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve had enough for today besides Daphne is coming.”
He smiles a big cheeky smile. “Have a great visit. Same time tomorrow.”
I stand and walk to his door. “See ya’.” I throw over my shoulder.
I leave Ian's office, walking down the long hallway to go out the front doors. There's a few patio tables and chairs to my right, so I sit and wait for Daphne anxiously.
The one thing I can say about this place, it's serine. It can be lonely at times, but I have no worries here. I don't have to think about all the killing that happens in the MC life. I don't need to wonder who the next enemy will be that we have to take out, and there is nothing here that will trigger my PTSD.
That's what my doctor and Ian are most worried about. If I go home, will it be a setback? They have me on a three-month plan here, and then we will evaluate my progress and my feelings about transitioning back into life outside of here.
A navy-blue van pulls into the circular drive. I can't see who’s in it, but I stand, hoping it's Daphne. It feels like forever before the passenger side door opens and she steps out.
Fuck, she's beautiful!
Her hair is now all black without the blonde underneath. It hangs loosely down her back in big curls. She’s gone lighter on her makeup, and she's wearing a black maxi dress with her black lace-up boots.
Her eyes meet mine. The smile that forms on her face has me wanting to drop to my knees right here. She runs full speed toward me and wraps her arms around me. "Dev!"
I hold her tightly, not wanting to let go as her floral scent invades my nostrils. "God, I fucking missed you," I tell her quietly. I pick her up before setting her back down on her feet.
