I rolled my eyes. I try to kill myself one time in the bathtub and nobody can let it go. A giggle bubbled from my lips. That was nothing I ever thought I would think.
Cora looked up at me. “Wren, I know you don’t wan—”
“Please don’t.” I lifted my hand and shook my head.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
I pushed my sleeves back and held up my wrists. “I’m sure it had to do with these.”
Cora cringed at the raised, red scars.
They weren’t pretty. They were never going to be. I was going to live with them the rest of my life. They were a reminder I wasn’t strong.
“I just want you to know I love you, and I’m always here for you.” Her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “I should have been there for you when everything was going on with the Hell Captains.”
“You didn’t know what was going on, Cora. There wasn’t anything you could have done.” There wasn’t anything anyone could have done.
She grabbed my hand and threaded her fingers through mine. “But I could have just been there for you.”
Even being there wouldn’t have stopped Rack and the Hell Captains from being huge assholes to me. “Don’t stress over it. It’s done and over with.”
She scooted closer. “But it’s not done and over with. It was so bad, you tried to kill yourself, Wren. Thank fucking Christ Maniac got to you in time before you died.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” I pulled my hand from her grasp and scooted to the head of the bed, farther away from her. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Her face paled at my words. Jesus Christ. I was never going to be able to go to the bathroom without someone worrying I was going to try and off myself again. I sprinted to the tiny bathroom in the corner and slammed the door shut behind me.
I couldn’t put up with this.
My hands shook as I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. I never wanted to talk about my feelings or how Cora wished she could have been there for me.
When I said no one could have helped, I meant it.
Cora could have watched me twenty-four-seven like a hawk, and I still would have found a way to try and kill myself.
Cora and Wrecker had been here for over an hour, and I was beyond ready for them to leave. For most of the time, Cora had tried to act like everything was normal, but I could tell behind her clear green eyes, she wanted to talk.
A light knock sounded on the door.
Jesus. I hadn’t even been in here for more than two minutes and she was knocking on the door making sure that I was okay.
“We’re leaving, Wren,” she lightly called through the door. “You don’t need to come out. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She paused, and I turned to the door. I laid one hand on the pressed wood. “I just want you to know that I love you, and whenever you want to talk, you know my number.”
My heart yelled at me to open the door and tell Cora I loved her too, but I stood there. Not saying a word.
Her light footsteps padded away from the door after waiting for a response from me.
What could I say to her? She was never going to look at me the same way again. I was forever in her eyes going to be some unstable whacked-out bitch who was always trying to kill myself.
And it’s my own fault she thought that about me.
One of the pitfalls of surviving suicide was having to deal with everyone telling you how much they loved you while you looked in their eyes and saw the guilt they felt.
Surviving was becoming a burden.
I heard Maniac’s rumbly voice tell them he would see them in a few weeks, and then the front door closed.
Living in a one room cabin meant I could hear everything, no matter where I was. I quickly went to the bathroom, washed my hands, and wandered out into the kitchen.
“You okay?”
I ignored Maniac, opened the fridge, and immediately shut it. An idea of what to make for dinner popped into my head. I pulled out a pound of hamburger and a bag of tater tots from the freezer. “You good with tater tot casserole for dinner?” It was only half past four, but by the time I thawed the meat, threw the casserole together and cooked it, it would be almost six.
“Answer my question,” he rumbled.
It was a question I didn’t know the answer to anymore. Was anyone ever really okay? I grabbed a can of creamed corn. “I make mine with creamed corn. That fine?” I turned to the microwave and placed the hamburger inside. I watched the numbers flick by, waiting for it to defrost.
Maniac’s rough, tanned hand pushed the stop button on the microwave. “We’re not eating until we talk.”
Damn this man and his talking. Why couldn’t he be like your typical man who never wanted to talk? I was beginning to think that was all a myth. I turned around and was face to neck with him. The man was damn tall, and I had to tilt my head back to look at him in the face when he was this close. “Can we just skip the talk, and you just say yes or no to creamed corn.”
“Not a fucking clue what creamed corn is, but if it has to do with whatever you’re cooking, I’m sure it’ll be fucking delicious.”
He sure did have a way with words. He was also a fan of the word fucking. “Duly noted,” I mumbled. I moved to start the microwave, but he planted his hands on my hips. I looked up at him. “Don’t.”
“My hands aren’t moving from this spot until we talk.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then talk.” He could talk. It didn’t mean I had to reply. “You’re just going to say the same shit you’ve been saying. I need to snap out of it, let people in. Blah, blah, blah.”
“That is what you need to do, darlin’.”
“It’s not that easy.”
His hands slid up my sides, and he stepped closer. “Never said this shit was going to be easy.”
“Then stop acting like it is, and take your hands off of me.”
He squeezed gently, but then backed away. “I’m gonna push you. When I know you have more to give, I’m gonna make you give it to me.”
I moved back and bumped into the counter. “Then why did you just let me go?” Not that I wasn’t grateful he had let me go. It was just the way this conversation was going, I didn’t expect him to back down.
“Because I know when you’ve had enough.”
“You don’t know me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you more than you think I do.”
“You know nothing about me.” No one knew anything about me. Even the things Cora thought she knew about me were just what was on the surface.
“You really wanna argue about this? I backed away from you, and you’re pissed about that now?”
I wasn’t pissed he had backed down. I was pissed this man who had only known me for a handful of weeks thought he knew about me. “Can we just go back to a couple of weeks ago where we didn’t talk? That worked much better for me.”
He shook his head. “That’s when I learned the most about you, darlin’.” He strutted over to the couch and flopped down on it. “Make your creamed corn shit. I’ll eat anything you make.”
I blinked slowly and looked around. What had just happened? “I thought we were going to talk?”
He stretched out on the couch and put his arms behind his head. “We were going to, but I think you need time to think about everything I already said.”
“Not necessary.”
“I think it is.”
“No, it’s no—”
“Wren, you gotta argue about everything with me? I’m letting you off the hook so you can stew for a bit.”
I turned around and smashed the button to turn on the microwave. “I’m not stewing.” I crossed my arms over my chest and watched the meat spin around.
“Call it whatever you want, but I know you need to time to process shit. I like to call it stewing, but I’ll call it whatever you want just so you stop arguing with me.” He turned the volume up on the TV, ending our conve
rsation. Or arguing.
So I was supposed to stew, huh? I’d show that man stewing.
I grabbed a casserole dish from the cabinet and dumped the bag of tots in the bottom. I was half-tempted to poison dinner because I knew he would eat whatever I put in front of him. My stomach rumbled, squashing that idea. If I poisoned it, I wouldn’t be able to eat it, and tater tot casserole was one of my favorites. He was lucking out this time while I stewed.
*
Chapter 5
Maniac
Pretty sure Wren could barbecue a flip-flop and it would taste amazing. I wasn’t sure what that woman did when she cooked, but it always turned out incredible.
While I was watching a rerun of Fresh Prince of Bel Air, she appeared at my side holding a plate in my face. “Here,” she grunted.
“Still stewing, I see.” I grabbed the plate from her hand and jack-knifed off the couch. “It’s good to know you stewing doesn’t affect your cooking.”
“If you say I’m stewing one more time, I’m going to dump the rest of the casserole right in your lap.” She stalked back in to the kitchen, but that’s as far as I watched her before the delicious aroma from my plate wafted up to my nose.
I shoveled a fork full into my mouth and moaned. “Holy Mother of God.” How she took a bag of tater tots and turned them into the most delicious thing I had ever tasted was fucking magical.
She started banging pots around, and I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re not gonna eat?”
“Not hungry,” she mumbled.
“Leave the dishes. You know I’ll do them once I’m done.”
She turned on the water. “I got it.”
Christ sake, this woman was going to drive me insane. I had told her fifty million times as long as she cooked, I would do the dishes. Now she suddenly thinks she needs to do them? “Turn off the fucking water and sit the hell down.”
“You say that a lot.”
I set my plate on the coffee table and wiped my hands on my pants. “Say what?”
“Fucking.”
I tilted my head to the side. Maybe I did. Who the hell cares? “That bother you?”
She grabbed the dish soap and squirted a shit ton into the sink filling with water. “No. I don’t know why I said anything.”
“Because it means something.”
“Just forget about it, Maniac.”
I shook my head. This woman was going to drive me fucking insane. “Nothing you say I can forget about.” I sat back down on the couch and rested my elbows on my knees.
She silently did the dishes, while I devoured my plate. “You got any more?” I called.
She was by my side in seconds holding the dish by my head. “Here.” She scraped four big spoonfuls onto my plate. “That enough?”
I looked down at the mountain of tater tots, corn, and hamburger meat. “I guess that’ll do,” I drawled. She had shoveled more onto my plate than she had given me the first time. I would have to say it was more than enough. She was going to make me fat with all of this home cooking.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” she called.
“It’s only six-thirty.”
“And?”
I looked over the back of the couch and watched her pad over to the bed. “Don’t you think it’s a little too early to sleep?”
“I can watch the TV from the bed.” She kicked off her shoes and face-planted onto the bed.
“Something wrong with sitting on the couch?”
“Yeah, you’re on it,” she mumbled into her pillow.
Why that sassy little shit. She was taking stewing over shit to another level. “You ever going to like me, darlin’?”
She rolled over onto her back. “I don’t know you, Maniac. I can’t say if I do or don’t like you.”
“Then come and get to know me.” I patted the couch next to me.
“Pass.”
No matter how I came at her, she threw up her hand and wouldn’t let me pass. “Then I guess I’ll just have to come to you, then.” My plate clattered onto the coffee table, and I catapulted over the couch. My feet hit the floor, and I dove onto the bed before Wren knew to try and run.
“What are you doing?” she screeched.
“Moving the party to you.”
“You and me in bed is not a party.” She scooted to the edge of the bed toward the wall.
I tsked and shook my head. “You’re hurting my feelings, darlin’.” I laid on my side and crept closer to her. I put my hand under my head and stared at Wren. She looked like she had just seen a ghost. I had told her before, I wasn’t going to push her past whatshe could take, but this was different.
She didn’t trust me. The only way for her to start trusting me, was for her to get to know me. I may be a bit rough around the edges, but I didn’t think I was that bad of a guy. “Ask me anything, and I’ll answer.”
“Why are you in bed with me?” Her back was plastered to the wall, and her arms were tucked to her body.
“If you won’t come to me, then I’ll come to you. Next question.” That was an easy one.
“You’re not going to get out of this bed until you’re good and ready, are you?”
I lifted my shoulder and shrugged. “No. Next.”
She rolled her eyes. “How many questions do I need to ask before you move?”
“At least twenty.” Also known as however many it took until she felt more comfortable around me.
“Twenty. Are you going to keep track, or am I?”
“You can, but the last three you asked don’t apply to that number. They need to be questions about me, and nothing else.”
She stared at me and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous. I don’t even understand why you are doing this.”
Not a question, so I didn’t reply.
“Dammit to hell,” she muttered. She sat up and grabbed a pillow. She sat Indian style and crossed her arms over her chest. “What is your favorite color?”
“Lime green.” So easy.
“What kind of name is Maniac?”
I shrugged. “It’s short for pyromaniac.”
“That mean you have a thing for fire, or is there some hidden meaning behind it?”
“Plain and simple, darlin’, I like fire.”
She paused and opened her mouth twice to talk, but nothing came out.
“Cat got your tongue?”
She slightly shook her head. “No, I was just wondering if I could ask you what your real name was.”
“Dalton.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Last name?”
“West.”
She bit her bottom lip.
“That good with you?”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter if I’m good with it. Not like you would change it or anything.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I didn’t like it, so I did change it, darlin’.”
“But you didn’t have a say with Maniac either.”
“It’s fitting, though.”
She nodded her head satisfied. “Sixteen.”
Of course she was counting how many questions she had left. “Eighteen. The name ones counted as one, and the color one was bullshit.”
“You don’t get to tell me if my questions are bullshit. All you said was I had to ask at least twenty questions.”
She may think she was calling the shots on this, but she fucking wasn’t. She wasn’t going to use some filler bullshit questions that didn’t matter. “Eighteen, and not one fucking less.”
She rolled her eyes again, but surprisingly, she didn’t argue. “Where were you born?”
“Here.”
“Here?” she questioned.
“Durham.”
“So people know you here? Know what you are?”
“Not sure what you mean by know what I am.”
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “MC?”
“You say MC like it’s a bad thing.”
Her silence told me she did think it was a bad thing.
“The Weston chapter of the Fallen Lords are some of the best guys you will ever meet in your life, Wren. What you saw and had to do with the Hell Captains would never, in a million years, happen with the Fallen Lords. Fuck, that shit wouldn’t fly with any of the MCs I know.”
“But it happens,” she whispered.
“Sure as shit does, darlin’, but it’s that one in one hundred MCs who pull that shit. You walk into some of these clubs and women aren’t allowed to speak unless spoken to, but they still respect women.”
“Not letting me speak doesn’t seem like respectful.”
I shrugged. But those were the rules to some of those clubs, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about them. When I had decided riding and club life was something I wanted, I had to find the right place to be.
After bouncing from three different clubs, I finally found the Fallen Lords. When I had stepped into the clubhouse, something had just clicked. Brotherhood and loyalty. That was what the Fallen Lords were about. I knew that was what I wanted to be about.
“I can’t speak for or defend other clubs. Just like any profession or whatever, there are bad people, Wren. People who abuse the power they are given.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Pretty sure that this is something we are going to have to agree to disagree on.”
She would get it through her head. Not now, but eventually, she would. “Next question.”
“You didn’t answer me whether or not people around here know if you are in an MC.”
“They know me, and they know I’m in an MC. You see me flying my colors. I’m not hiding from anyone I’m with the Lords.” Fuck that shit. I had worked hard to become part of something I loved, and I wasn’t afraid to tell anyone about it.
Her gaze fell on the TV behind me. “What about your family?”
“Mom and Dad are both dead. I’m an only child. The Fallen Lords are my family.”
Her eyes darted to mine. “How do you have no family?”
I shook my head. “I have a family, the Lords.”
She waved her hand at me. “No, you know what I mean. Family family.”
“My mom and dad were both only kids, that’s how I don’t have any real family. Or whatever you have in your mind that you think is real family, they’re gone.”
Maniac Page 3
