Resilient

by Gillian Archer

  “I know, sweetheart. Believe me, I know. It’s hard to be vulnerable. Especially with these kinda guys. But it’s so worth it. A guy like Tank is just like my Stitch. When he finally lets someone in and loves them, there’s nothing on this earth that’ll compare.”

  “I still don’t get the Tank-Stitch comparison.” I teased Brittany because the mood was getting too intense for me. And also because deflection was my go-to move when things got too tough. “There’s what? Ten years’ age difference? And Tank is at least a half foot taller than Stitch.” I squinted my eyes in fake contemplation. “They both have beards, so there’s that, I guess.”

  “Oh my God, Nicole, sometimes you can be so shallow. No, they don’t look anything alike. What I said before was that they’re both the kind of guy who’d have your back. Solid. And that they both have this way about them that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room.”

  “Blah blah blah.” I laughed. “We all know you have the perfect life. No need to rub it in all our faces.”

  “Do you think it’s been easy to get here?” The quiet intensity in Brittany’s voice made me drop my jovial attitude and sit up and listen. “Stitch has been in the club as long as I’ve known him. There were nights when I was knee-deep in diapers, and he had to go on a run or off on some club business that I never knew anything about. And some mornings I was afraid he’d never come home. Sometimes he’d be gone for days and when he’d get home, he couldn’t talk about whatever was eating him up inside—something he’d seen or done. They’re not one-percenters, but they’re still bikers. Our life hasn’t been all necking and hearts and roses. There have been arguments and doubts and tears. We’ve worked on our relationship. I’ve earned every single amazing moment I’ve shared with that man. We’ve earned it together.”

  I was quiet for a minute. “I get it. I do. I think we all hope for what you and Stitch built together. Nothing worth having is easy, right? Why did you stay with him if it was that bad in the early days?”

  “Because I was young and dumb and sleep-deprived?”

  I snorted. “No, really, Britt.”

  “Yes, really, Nicole. If anyone tells you newborns or babies or toddlers are easy, they’re lying their asses off. I didn’t know what day of the week it was, let alone what time my husband was supposed to be home.” Brittany snorted with laughter, lost in some memory of motherhood. After a moment she rolled her head on the couch and looked at me. “But I stayed with Stitch because I loved him. No one on earth has ever loved me as hard or as completely as my husband. He’s an awesome man, and he makes me wanna be a better woman.”

  I wiped at my eyes, then startled when Stitch’s voice rumbled in the living room.

  “Aww, I love you, too, honey bear.” Stitch made a few kissy sounds while Brittany whacked him with a throw pillow.

  “We were having a private conversation.” Whack. “Me and Nicole.” Whack, whack. “Leave us alone, you goofball.”

  Stitch wrestled the pillow away from Brittany, and then there were a few shrieks followed by wet kissing sounds. I wasn’t really paying attention because I was too busy staring at the man standing in the doorway.

  Tank.

  He nodded hello—crazy impersonal, considering what we’d done over the past week—then glanced at Brittany and Stitch getting it on next to me on the couch. His eyebrows went up, and he smirked as he looked back at me. Then he dipped his head toward the kitchen, and I followed him without a word. As I left the room, I heard the faint sound of Brittany’s moan.

  I shuddered. I loved my new friend, but I really didn’t want to see her having sex. Ever.

  “What are you doing here?” Tank’s abrupt question sounded more like an accusation than anything else.

  Chapter 18

  Tank

  An hour ago when I got to Stitch’s house, he was waiting for me in the driveway, his arms crossed over his chest. I parked my bike next to his in the driveway, then swung off and stowed my helmet on the handlebars.

  “What’s up, brother?” Stitch clasped my hand and brought me in close for a back slap.

  “Fuck if I know. You got a beer?”

  Stitch curled a lip. “Is a frog’s ass watertight?”

  “Goddamn, Stitch. Can’t you just say yes?” I followed him into the open garage, then took a seat on the beat-up sofa.

  “Now where’s the fun in that?” Stitch held out a bottle of Sierra Nevada, then popped the top off his own and sat down on the other side of the couch. “So, what was the emergency?”

  I took a pull from my beer and settled into the couch. “It wasn’t an emergency.”

  “You just wanted to come over and hang at one a.m. with me and my cheap-ass beer? When you could be boozing it up at Lux with all those horny, drunk college girls? Fuck me. Maybe we should take you to the hospital. It sounds critical.”

  “Ha fucking ha. You know I don’t shit where I eat. I’d never hook up with randos at the club. That’s a stellar way to get a stalker. Or the clap.”

  “But at least you’d be drinking for free.”

  I raised my beer in silent toast to his generosity.

  Stitch snorted. “Touché.”

  We drank in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to say to Stitch, and he seemed content to let me be until I figured it out.

  “So spill. What’s got your panties all in a knot tonight?”

  Or not.

  I sighed. “Family shit mostly. Christy won’t leave Derrick despite his cheating, laid-off lazy-ass ways. She just wants to bitch to me about how much he sucks, and apparently I’m not allowed to say crap. I don’t get chicks, man. Why don’t they say the shit they mean?”

  “Fuck me, you’re coming to the wrong man if you’re looking for answers to that shit. I’ve been married forever, raised a daughter, and I still don’t understand women. They say one thing but mean another, and somehow you’re supposed to read their minds to figure out what’s got them all worked up.”

  I took another swig from my beer. “I kinda thought you’d say that.”

  “Chocolate helps. Pretty much anything’s forgivable if you fork over chocolate.” Stitch stared at the lip of his beer bottle. “Or red wine. At least with Brittany—Amber’s too young for the hard stuff still.”

  “So that’s the key to twenty years of marriage? Chocolate and wine?”

  “And sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

  “Yeah, that’s not exactly gonna help me out with Christy.” I gave a huge shudder. “That’s some sick shit, man.”

  “Would be, if we were talking about Christy.”

  I forgot the beer in my hand as I looked incredulously at Stitch. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You must be channeling your inner chick because this conversation right here” —Stitch waved between himself and me— “has nothing to do with your sister.”

  I full-out laughed at that assumption. After a minute I paused and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Fuck me, Stitch. Thank you, I needed that.”

  “You might find it funny, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

  “Fine. Who am I talking about then?”

  Stitch squinted his eyes as he looked at me. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was a combination of Abby and Nicole.”

  I snorted in derision, even as a telltale heat spread through me that had nothing to do with the light beer we were drinking. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Stitch tipped his beer at me. “You must unlearn what you have learned.”

  That almost sounded like a famous quote, but I couldn’t quite place it. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You gotta stop letting Abby get into your head. If ever there was a chick fond of head games and bullshit, it was her. You can’t compare every fucking woman to your ex’s ghost. That kinda shit is gonna screw up your head. And your life.”

  I nodded silently as I thought about what he said. Not
that I admitted he was right—that I’d been actually talking about Nicole and Abby earlier, and not my sister.

  “I told you about the shit I went through with Tammy before I found Brittany. Hell, I think everyone in the club has a crazy ex story that’ll make your ’nads shrivel into raisins. But you can’t keep letting their crazy-ass ways control you. You’ll miss out on the best times of your life if you let them. Look at Reb. He got out from under Rhonda’s shadow, and now he’s the happiest I’ve ever seen that fucker and all because he’s got Emily on his arm and in his bed at night. That’s the kinda shit you’re missing out on.”

  “You say that like it’s easy to do. Hell, today every time I turned around I saw Abby. Or heard her fucking voice. It’s like she’s haunting me.”

  “Patience you must have, my young padawan.”

  And there it was. I’d been as close to pouring out my heart to another guy since I was like twelve years old and Stitch was spouting Star Wars quotes to me. “You might be old and wrinkly, but you’re no Yoda.”

  “Do or do not. There is no try.”

  “Fuck. I thought we were having a serious conversation here.” I shook my head, then took a long pull from my beer until the bottle was empty. Tossing my empty into the recycle bin, I walked over to the beer fridge and got myself another without grabbing one for Stitch. I opened it and took a few pulls, then sprawled out on the battered sofa again. “So what’s new with you?”

  “I wasn’t bullshitting you, man. Just because I’m quoting Yoda doesn’t make the advice less valid. It’s still true, dammit. You can’t go through life always afraid of love. You’ll be a miserable, bitter asshole before you know it.”

  I smiled cynically and raised my beer to toast him. “Hey, I’m halfway there.”

  “I know. That’s why we’re having this talk now. If you’re not careful, you’re gonna let the best thing to ever happen to you slip through your hands.”

  “Stitch, I don’t even know if I have anything with Nicole. We’d promised each other that it was a one- then two-time deal. No strings. I don’t know how to do anything more.” At least not since Abby. And if I were honest with myself, Nicole made me want to try—not that I’d ever say as much to Stitch. I couldn’t ever be that vulnerable with anyone.

  “Then why’s she in my living room getting drunk with my wife?”

  I froze, suspending my beer bottle a few inches away from my mouth. “Wait, she’s here? In your house?” I hadn’t seen any sign of Nicole when I got here. Her car wasn’t out front. Not that I was expecting her to be here.

  “Yup, called up Brittany all in tears over something—I figured you—so Brittany went and got her, then drove her back here. They’ve been drinking ever since.”

  “What makes you think she’s crying over me?” A knot formed in my stomach. Nicole was such a spitfire, take-no-bullshit kinda chick. The thought of her in tears made me jittery. A combination of nerves, anger, and something I wasn’t comfortable naming right then rolled through me. If someone else had made her cry, I was damned well gonna take care of it for her. And if it was me…Shit, I didn’t know what to do with that.

  “I don’t know if she was crying over you. I got the hell outta the house the second they rolled up the driveway. I don’t do chicks and tears. But it stands to reason, right? I mean you guys are…What are you kids calling it now? Hooking up?”

  My laughter calmed me a bit. “Damn, Stitch. You’re only ten years older than me. How can you sound so much like an old fuck?”

  “Fuck you. I know the current slang. I’m getting jiggy with it.”

  I laughed. Stitch could be a funny son of a bitch when he wanted to be.

  He tossed his empty toward the recycle can—and missed—then stood up with a groan. “I gotta take a piss.”

  When he moved toward the door leading to the house, I stood to follow him.

  Stitch turned to me with a raised brow. “We suddenly turn into chicks or something? You gonna come to the crapper with me? Wanna hold my hand?” He batted his eyelashes at me. “Do my makeup?”

  “I was gonna help you with your tampon.” I shoved Stitch as he reached the door.

  He took off with a snicker and a murmured, “Pussy.”

  I smiled at Stitch’s back. Hell, with us that was practically a term of endearment. My stomach rumbled with a combination of nerves and hunger. Between Christy’s bullshit, my Abby flashback at the club, and Stitch’s bizarre heart-to-heart in the garage, I was all over the place. But I had to know what was going on with Nicole. I couldn’t handle the thought that someone—something—had her so upset she was crying all over Brittany.

  But that wasn’t the scene that met us when we entered the living room.

  They were both sitting on the sofa, facing each other, and I only had eyes for Nicole. Her eyes were reddened like she’d been crying recently, but she still looked fucking gorgeous. I don’t know what they’d been talking about, as we only caught the tail end of Brittany’s impassioned speech.

  I wasn’t really paying attention because I couldn’t take my eyes off of Nicole.

  She looked back at me with an intensity that made me nervous. Was she mad at me? Had I been the one to make her cry because I hadn’t texted her tonight? Or was it just that time of the month?

  Not sure what the hell was going on, I jerked my chin up in acknowledgment to her, then glanced at Brittany and Stitch grinding against each other on the couch. Fuck, even after twenty years, those guys still wanted each other. It was sweet, if not a little NC-17. My eyebrows went up, and I smirked as I saw the expression on Nicole’s face. She was getting skeeved out being so close to her friend making out. So I dipped my head toward the kitchen and then headed in that direction. As we left the room, I heard the faint sound of Brittany’s moan.

  Yeah, Stitch!

  “What are you doing here?” I mentally winced when my abrupt question came out like an accusation—like she’d done something wrong for hanging out at my friends’ house.

  “Talking and drinking with Brittany. What are you doing here?” she returned snottily.

  I grunted in reply. This was going about as good as I thought it would. Fuck. Needing a second to think, I turned to the fridge, opened the door, and rummaged around. After a moment I pulled out a longneck beer, popped the top, and chugged it. Finally, when I needed oxygen, I bumped the fridge door closed with my elbow, then pulled the bottle away from my mouth with a gasp.

  “No, thanks. I think I’m done drinking for the night.” She pointed out my lack of invitation with a snide comment.

  My lips quirked as I lifted my beer in a mocking toast. “I didn’t know you and Brittany were tight. I thought you were friends with Jessica and Emily.”

  “I can have more than two friends. I know it’s surprising, given my amazing attitude. But three whole people can stand being in the same room as moi.”

  “Smartass. That wasn’t what I meant. I just had no idea you knew Brittany well enough to be at her house at two in the morning. I’ve never run into you here before.” Which I would’ve if they were that close. This was practically my second home. Well, third after the clubhouse.

  “I just had some drama going on and wanted to talk to Brittany. Jessica has jetlag from the honeymoon, and it’s a school night for Emily.”

  Drama? She said it so offhand like it wasn’t a big deal, despite her reddened eyes and smeared makeup. It wasn’t cool that shit was going wrong with her, but I gotta admit I was a bit relieved to know it wasn’t due to me doing something boneheaded. I wanted to ask her what was up, but I didn’t know if I was ready to hear the answer. So instead I hinted around it. “You don’t have to work tomorrow?”

  “You mean today? It’s almost two a.m., and I’ve had way too much to drink. There’s no way I’m going into work in seven hours.”

  “Great. Then you can come home with me.”

  Nicole stared back at me with wide eyes. Then I realized how that’d sounded.

  “Fuck
. I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t saying you should come home with me because you’re too drunk to know any better. I’m not like that. I don’t fuck unconscious chicks. Besides, we’ve already slept together. Not that that means you can’t say no now. Shit. I just mean—”

  “Tank.”

  My mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Fuck. Where are you when I need you, brain?

  “I get it.” Nicole crossed the kitchen and stopped just in front of my boots. She placed a soft hand on my arm. “And I’m with you. Let’s go.”

  My heart stuttered in my chest for a second. I don’t know why this—tonight—felt like a bigger deal than either of the two other times we’d gotten together. But it did. So I had to double-check. She was so vulnerable right now. “You sure?”

  A porn-star-quality groan came from the other room.

  Nicole’s nose wrinkled. “I’m sure. But let’s go out the back door.”

  Chapter 19

  Nicole

  For the second—or was it third?—time in less than a week I found myself on the back of Tank’s motorcycle as we sped through downtown Reno. And this ride was more exhilarating than any other. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the weird place I was in my head with all the drama going on, but I felt like I was flying. While Tank gunned it down Virginia Street, I tilted my face into the air and reveled in the wind whipping against my skin. I wanted to lean back and raise my arms in delight, but the feel of Tank’s large, hard body in my arms was just as exhilarating.

  This guy was the hottest man I’d ever seen, let alone slept with. I still didn’t know how I’d ever bagged such a hottie. God, he felt so good between my thighs and in my arms right then. And last weekend. And that first time. My nipples hardened to throbbing peaks at the dirty turn my thoughts took when I remembered how his piercing felt rubbing against my clit when he was deep inside of me. I pressed closer against his back, seeking relief to the rage of hormones crashing through me.

  But if Tank noticed my hardened nipples or the urgent way I gripped his hips with my thighs, he didn’t let on. His hands remained on the handlebars and his attention on the road.