I toss and turn all night, unable to sleep as thoughts of Sass run rampant through my mind. Everyone says she has gone and is not coming back. They are wrong. She came here. Even if she didn’t stay, there is still hope. She thought of me and came.
The next morning I get up, shower and dress for the day. Feeling on edge, I skip my breakfast. As I sit in my room, the urge to call Bull eats at me. If my uncle were still alive, he would calm the rattling building inside me.
Needing to hear a familiar voice, I call the next closest person to me.
“Yo, Tank, brother. We got the house ready for ya. They lettin’ ya out early?” Roundman answers.
“Nah, next week. I’m getting ready for my torture today, and then I should be cleared in a few days to come home.”
“I’ve seen that hot little therapist. You call it torture, I call it opportunity. Tap that ass, Tank. Let off some steam. With all the ways that woman has worked your body already, imagine what it would be like to work that pussy over for her?” He laughs.
“I doubt she gets worked over. I bet that’s one bitch who’s in charge in the bedroom.” I laugh back at him. It’s not often Roundman gets to be lighthearted like this, and it never lasts long.
“You doin’ all right? They treatin’ you good there?”
“Yeah, I’m all right. Everyone here is more than fuckin’ accommodating. Hell, it’s borderline obnoxious,” I try to joke.
“Then whatca callin’ for? You’re not one to shoot the shit, Tank. Whatever you need, consider it done,” he responds in the serious, no nonsense tone that is all Roundman.
“It’s not something I need as much as I had a visitor.”
“Yeah, who was that?” His voice is laced in concern.
“Sass.”
My one word answer brings out a deep breath, followed by utter silence.
“Roundman?”
“Yeah, I’m here. What’d she say?”
“Nothin’. That’s the thing. She signed in, but she didn’t stay to see me. She left before I got back from therapy.”
“Shit. All right, I’ll let Danza know. You go handle your business and get your ass home.” With that, we disconnect.
I am no less on edge than I was before. At least knowing she came, they can keep an eye on her from their end for me. Not that she’s ever not watched. As Danza’s daughter, she can walk away from the club all she wants, but she is always on our radar.
My physical therapy today is grueling. Desirae, my therapist, is pushing me hard. I swear the woman gets off on breaking people. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I have seen her with the elderly patients, and she’s a damn saint of tolerance with them. With me, though, she’s a tyrant. She has me lifting weights and working hard to get my body not only moving fluidly again, but back in shape.
After having the feeding tube for so long, I’ve had to live on protein shakes for a while to build up my tolerance to real food once again. Well, Desirae and her nutritionist have still been feeding that shit to me to feed my muscles, so she says. I swear, when I get out of here, I will be one happy motherfucker to never see protein powder or a milkshake again.
I stumble on my sprinting drill and land face first on the floor. Yelling out in frustration, I slam my fist down on the floor as I get ready to push myself up.
“Temper, temper. Oh, Tank—that’s what they call you—well, push through it, drive over it, whatever you need, use it and let’s blow this up!” Desirae yells while leaning over me.
Suzy fuckin’ sunshine and her pep talks. “Fuck off, D.”
“Uh-oh, did I hit a nerve?” she patronizes.
Looking up, I glare at her as I get to my feet. She doesn’t treat other patients like me at all. It works, though, the anger motivates me, and in the end, I finish the rest of my therapy strong. I’m still a little weak, but I’m ready to go the hell home.
Chapter
13
Seeing Beyond
~Sass~
The ribbon cutting ceremony for the new development is tonight. They break ground next week, but Nick acquired the property and all the necessary permits. After the sign is placed for Taggart Construction, we are going to some formal dinner and after party.
Nick, once again, has made all of my salon arrangements, chosen my wardrobe, and given me my daily itinerary. My life is simple: follow the instructions set forth to me by Nick. Some days, I want to rebel, but it’s not worth the argument.
I arrive home to Nick, who is already dressed in his suit with his blue tie that matches my dress. The royal blue, silk, off the shoulder dress is loose in the bust but fits snuggly through my waist, hips, and down my thighs where it stops mid-calf. Nick even made sure to have heels dyed to match the dress in color. Blue is not a color I would choose to wear, though. My natural red hair in life also means fair skin that has given me freckles, which are standing out under the color of this dress. He has once again had the salon die my hair a solid shade of deep auburn and completed my look with an up-do I’m sure took more than one box of bobby pins to create.
“You look gorgeous, love,” Nick compliments, while I struggle to keep from puking.
I feel far from gorgeous in this dress. I feel nauseous from my nerves and my discomfort in my attire. I may look appealing on the outside, yes, but I’m uncomfortable as hell. Shouldn’t that count for something? Shouldn’t the way I feel in the dress matter?
Rather than continuing to dwell on my anxiety, I make my way into our room to add my accessories. Looking on my vanity, I notice a new diamond tennis bracelet has been laid out.
“For you, love. It matches the emerald cut of your engagement ring.”
Engagement, that word. Why does it not give me warm, fuzzy feelings? Instead, it makes me cringe. As more time passes, I am more uncomfortable around Nick. I do try to fit into his Stepford Wives mold, but I’m afraid I am failing miserably.
Nick is so focused on this evening he doesn’t seem remotely bothered by my silence, either. Is this what he really wants from me, to act like a damn puppet on a string?
We arrive at the dinner after the quick ribbon ceremony and are seated across the table from the primary investors in the new project, Mr. and Mrs. Sergio Valentine. They are both dressed to the nines; Sergio’s suit, obviously tailored to him, and his wife’s dress, one of New York style couture. Her jet black hair is pulled into a sleek chignon and her neck and wrists dance in rubies that match the deep wine color of her dress. Nervousness builds up as I know in my soul I don’t measure up to these people.
“My husband has told me you recently became engaged. Congratulations.” She smiles a fake smile over to me.
“Thank you,” Nick answers for us, squeezing my hand under the table. I’m not sure if it’s in warning or in comfort.
“How did you two meet?” Mr. Valentine adds, joining our conversation.
“She’s my diamond in the rough,” Nick begins as I sit in my seat, taking it all in. “I took her out of her trailer park lifestyle and brought her to the life of luxury.”
“Oh, how sweet. She comes from humble beginnings and you can give her the world,” Mrs. Valentine adds pompously.
“As they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. She’s been recycled into something beautiful,” Nick adds with a laugh as he continues to talk about me as if I’m not even here.
The more he rambles on about my past, the more I see beyond the kind man taking care of me. He is a devious monster. He doesn’t want a fiancée, a girlfriend or a wife. He wants someone to manipulate and to play a part.
“The less they come from, the lower the expectations. Savannah here didn’t know my financial standings when we first met. In fact, when I moved her in, I made sure to use the small guest house my parents have so she wouldn’t get the idea she could marry for my money. It wasn’t until I knew she was truly mine that I bought her the car and showed her our real home,” Nick continues, completely oblivious to my feelings or facial expressions of shock.
I remain quiet, waiting for Nick to acknowledge my discomfort, but he doesn’t. However, our attention is drawn to the front of the room as his dad is ready to make an announcement.
“Attention please.” He tings the champagne glass in his hand. “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight. I want to take this opportunity to make an announcement.”
Nick laces our fingers together and sits a little taller as his father continues his speech.
“Upon completion of the Dolphin’s Bay development, I will be retiring. Taggart Holdings and Construction will be passed on to my son, Nick, and his soon to be bride, Savannah.”
Blindsided by this announcement, I fall in line and smile my fake smile and clap along with everyone else. Really, what do I have to do with any of this? I want to crawl in a hole and hide.
“It looks like falling in love has indeed settled you down. Finding Savannah and executing a well thought out plan to protect your future shows real potential in life and in business. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials and taking over your father’s company,” Mr. Valentine says.
Nick is sitting smugly beside me without taking one note that my entire world is crumbling around me. Luckily, the dinner and after party are filled with so much mingling and business talk I’m not left needing to say much to anyone.
Once home, my mind is still reeling with all the information that has been thrown at me tonight. We are in the bedroom, both of us getting ready for bed when Nick finally speaks.
“Look, Savannah, I can tell you’re pissed off. Why?”
“Why? Really, you ask me why? You called me trash, and I still haven’t quite figured out why you felt the need to move me into a smaller house. Why test me? You know I’ve never needed a damn dime of your money. I never asked for this monstrosity of a house or the car, or the clothes. Hell, I’ve never asked a damned thing of you other than to accept me as I come, past and all.”
“It’s all been a means to an end, Savannah. My father felt I was too wild to take over the company. He wanted to see me settle down before he would retire. I needed to show him I was settled into the role he wants me in as well as with a suitable woman by my side. You can’t possibly be upset over that.”
“It’s all lies. I want to get married for love, Nick, not money.”
His face softens as he makes his way to me. “Savannah, this may not have started on either side as something serious, but don’t doubt my feelings for you. I would not have carried this as far as we have if I didn’t love you. Don’t you see, baby? I could have any woman easily fill the role of my wife. I chose you and I choose you until death do us part. I don’t want anyone other than you, just as you are. I’m sorry if my words came off harsh tonight. You are my diamond. You are what sparkles in my world.”
Before I can think on any of the words he’s just said, he leans down and gently kisses me. Soft, subtle, and yet, fulfilling, like Nick always kisses. I am what sparkles in his world. That’s what he said, right?
Filled with so many emotions, I let my body work in overdrive as Nick lays me down against our bed. He makes sweet, kind love to my body while my mind still can’t sort out everything I have learned tonight.
~Tank~
I’m back to the grind as much as possible. Roundman doesn’t want me working in the garage just yet, though. He says to settle in, take a few transports and not push my body too hard. Sure, that makes sense, but it gives me far too much time to think of Sass. This leads to me missing her and wanting her.
Danza has asked me to give Sass space. He wants her to come back to the fold of her own choice, not out of obligation or attachment to me. I understand his reasoning, but I don’t agree with it nor do I like it.
Desirae, or as I like to think of her, Drill Sergeant Bust My Balls, has taken me on as a private client. So, three times a week, she comes out to the house the Hellions have set up for me for my continued physical therapy. She continues to push me, and with every therapy session, I feel the burn, yes, but I also feel stronger. Yesterday, she cleared me to start riding my Harley again.
While I was in the rehabilitation facility, Roundman and Danza went and bought a small farm house not too far from the compound. The club renovated the two bedroom, two bath house and set everything up for me to have a private home. With me still needing therapy, Roundman wanted me to have a more comfortable setting. I’m thankful for it for multiple reasons.
First, when Desirae is done with me, there are times I have pushed too hard and the pain is overwhelming. I don’t want the brothers to see me when I’m weak like that. Second, I’m still having some issues with speech, and sometimes, I struggle with normal tasks like writing a grocery list. It’s not every day, but when I am stressed, I do stutter slightly and sometimes can’t get my brain to work in sync with my hands to do fine motor skills such as write. The last thing I want the guys to see is how fucked up I still am. It’s a long process. One they don’t need to watch. Third, I feel guilty. Bull died in my arms because I took Roundman’s back and not his. Yeah, Roundman is my club Prez, so that was where I should’ve been, but Bull was my family. I can’t help but feel like I let Aunt Marsha down. I need the quiet of my house to sort through the muddle that is my brain. Add the Sass situation to the mix, and the last place I need to reside is in my duplex to remind me further of how I fucked that up.
As my thoughts run rampant, I feel restless. Walking out to the detached, run down garage, I open it to see my Harley sitting there. It’s the same bike I built with Bull. Drawn to it like metal to a magnet, I can’t fight the pull. Before I can stop myself, I have climbed on and backed it out. The road draws me in.
Danza slipped up a few weeks back with her address. Why I memorized it, though, I don’t know.
I’m pulling up to the gated community, unsure if I will be let in. The rent-a-cop security guard that couldn’t catch a turtle steps out to the keypad, holding a clipboard with papers. He is a balding, older man with a serious gut and need of a diet.
“Can I help you?” Humpty Dumpty asks.
“Goin’ to see Savannah Perchton.”
“Your name?”
“Tank.”
“Well, Tank,” he draws my name out sarcastically, “I’m pretty sure you aren’t on the list. I don’t believe Mr. Taggart and Ms. Perchton are accepting visitors today. Come back another day.”
“Nah, I think I’m here now, and I’m gonna go on to her house.” I move my cut back just enough for him to see the holster with my Glock peeking out from my side. “You need to simply turn around and waddle back to your box and forget you’ve seen me. If you decide to make this more difficult, just be warned, my brothers aren’t far behind me.”
The clipboard in his shaking hands lets me know I have got him rattled. “Uhhh, no trouble needed, sir. Have a good visit, sir.”
Rather than wait for the gate to lift, I circle around the outer edge as it is slowly raised. Pulling up to the ostentatious house, I see the Porsche Cayenne that I have heard Danza talk about. Well, I got the right house.
I cut off my bike when I look up to see her standing beside me. Her hair is no longer in a dramatic cut and color; it’s more of a refined style. She’s wearing dressy, gray capris, a white flowing top, and some strappy, flat sandals that look like ones the Spartans would have worn. As nice as her outfit may be, she doesn’t look comfortable. The auburn haired woman in front of me, although pretty, is far from the gorgeous and bold Sass I know. Her body language is not welcoming, so I stay seated on my motorcycle.
“Tank,” she says, barely above a whisper.
“How ya doin’?”
“I’m good, Tank. I’m really good.” She pulls a small
smile, but one that’s far from genuine.
“Let’s go for a ride.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Come on, baby. When have you ever not wanted a ride? I’ll bring you back in an hour.”
“Things have changed, Tank.”
Letting out a sigh, I agree with her. “Yeah, some things have changed.”
“I’m not that girl anymore.” She drops her gaze to my feet. “Sass is gone. I’m just Savannah now.”
“Sass may change, Savannah may change, everything around us will always keep changing, but baby, you don’t have to be Savannah and you don’t have to be Sass with me. You’re my Button. And don’t tell me she’s gone because she pulled me through. I see beyond what you’re trying to hide. I know the front you’ve been puttin’ on for everybody. That shit ain’t gonna work with me, though. Button, you’re forever mine, and you can’t take that away. I know you, inside and out. Admit it or not. Hide it in a fancy house, a slick ride, and a wardrobe that you can’t breathe in all you want. Others may give up on you, but not me, Button. The sexy, sassy, button pushing girl I fell in love with is in there,” I pound my fist against my chest, “and in here.”
“Tank, it’s complicated.”
“Not for us, Button. Not for us. Now, you gonna get on the bike and let’s go for a ride or not?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Button, get on the bike. One hour. You, me, and the miles underneath us.”
Hesitation flashes across her features before she finally gives in. Her fingers tremble as she holds onto my shoulder to climb on. Once she’s settled, I pull her hands around me, forcing her tightly up against my back. This moment, this opportunity, this ride is what I have waited for. This is what pulled me out of the coma. After so much time apart… after flat lining in the ambulance and twice more in the hospital… after truly facing that I was going to die, to now have having my woman on my bike, with her body pressed against mine, I’ve found peace. I breathe in the air around us. What’s more, for the first time in my life, I feel alive—really alive.
Forever Ride Page 12
