by ML Nystrom
“Get your stuff together and meet me out front. We’re not staying,” he ordered darkly.
“What about your stuff?” I asked.
“Just get my cut for me. The rest can stay and rot.” He strode off, the crowd parting like the Red Sea for him.
I quickly changed and stuffed everything into my pack. I managed to stuff most of his things into his pack as well. I grabbed his cut, knowing he would want to put it on his back as soon as he could. He took it from me and all but sighed in relief when he slid it around his shoulders. That connection with the club was more real than anything else in his life. He stowed the packs and handed me my helmet.
He grabbed my wrist before I strapped it on.
“I can’t stay here tonight. You already know that, but I’m not ready to go back to Bryson City, and I’m not ready to take you back to your family. Will you go somewhere and stay with me? Just for a day or two?”
I hadn’t hesitated to take his back for this disastrous visit, and I wouldn’t let him down now. I wasn’t ready to go back to my family just yet either. I could feel his need and that was more important than a new job site.
“Let’s go,” I confirmed, lifting the helmet over my head.
“Do you care where?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“Nope. I trust you.”
We mounted in silence and I wrapped myself around him, hugging him close, hoping he felt my support.
He revved the engine and drove off, leaving his childhood behind for the second and final time.
Seventeen
I woke up to the watery smell and sound of a well-used air conditioner. The thing rattled and wheezed, but did put out a cool mineral-scented breeze. We would need it while we were here.
We’d driven for several hours, and I spent much of it dozing at Stud’s back. It’s a wonder I didn’t fall off. He headed east and seemed to know where he was going, so I just hung on for the ride. Sometime before dawn, we arrived at a seventies style motel that had a vacancy sign flashing. The kind that has individual rooms in one long row in an L shape. The owners had their own house/quarters at one end and were always on duty. We were checked in by a short gray-haired older woman in a flowery red zip-up robe. She sleepily answered our ring, swiped Stud’s card, and handed us a real key complete with a diamond-shaped tag stating we were in room seven. He only got one room for both of us, but at that point, I just didn’t care.
I stretched, feeling my muscles protest at the movement. Don’t let anyone ever tell you riding a motorcycle is easy! If I was this sore from sitting behind Stud, I could only imagine how he was feeling.
A band tightened around my middle, pulling me back as I shifted. I found myself glancing down at Stud’s arm encircling me, his warm hand on my stomach, holding me in place. My bare stomach. I wasn’t wearing pants. Just a tank top and my lacy panties from last night.
Holy shit!
I froze in place. It hadn’t occurred to me when I tumbled into the bed so much earlier that we would be sleeping in it together. He was spooning close to my back and I could feel the heat of his body against me. His thumb began lazily stroking my skin, just under my breast. My heart rate picked up at the light touch. Only an inch or so more and that digit would be stroking my tightening nipple. He huffed a bit and moved closer, pressing his hips into my backside. He wasn’t exactly awake, but he was definitely up. I could feel the outline of his morning wood grinding behind me. I supposed this should have pissed me off, but I found myself wishing that stroking thumb would move up those few inches.
Instead, he kissed and nipped at the spot where my shoulder and neck met. His teeth sent a jolt down my spine, and it was all I could do not to yelp and contract like a turtle.
“Morning, Cactus,” he rumbled as he shifted and got out of the bed. “Room has one of those coffee maker things, but the coffee is usually shit. I’m gonna go get some real coffee and bagels or something. Be back in a bit.”
I watched him move into the tiny bathroom, his tight ass covered by black boxer briefs. How can a mouth both water and go dry at the same time? I’d swear mine did just that.
The sounds of him using the toilet and switching on the shower filtered into the room. I scrambled out of the bed myself and leaned over the small cramped dresser to look at myself in the mirror hanging above it on the plain beige wall. Red-ringed eyes smeared with leftover mascara floated in a sea of tangled red hair. I licked my fingers and tried to wipe away some of the black. It didn’t help. I’d just fished out my hairbrush from my pack when I heard the shower go off. Shit! I was still only in a tank and my panties. I was rummaging through my pack again to find the clean pair of jeans I brought when Stud’s arms came around me and pulled me against his hot, wet body.
“Be back in a bit, babe.” He gave me a squeeze and kissed me on the temple. I raised a hand and ran my fingers over his stubble and murmured something affirmative.
While he was gone, I texted Connor to let him know something had come up and I wasn’t sure when I would be arriving at the job site. Then I showered with the motel’s version of soap but my own shampoo and conditioner. Dressing was easy as I didn’t have a lot of choices, but I did have fresh underwear, which led me to wonder how long we would be here—wherever here was.
I got my answer soon enough as I heard a knock on the door and opened it to Stud holding a carrier with two large paper cups and a white bag.
“Oh yes! You just became my favorite biker of all time!” I overenthused and took the carrier from his hand.
“I’ve always been your favorite biker of all time,” he answered, his half smile lighting up on his face.
I rolled my eyes. “Not unless you brought Danishes as well,” I quipped back.
He opened the bag and with a flourish and produced a sticky cinnamon roll.
“Yum! I think just looking made my butt expand a bit!” I made a grab for the sweet confection.
Stud laughed. Finally a real laugh, like he was back at the club, having a good time, carrying on and joking around. I knew it wouldn’t last, but for now, I had my man back.
My man. Could I really say that?
I found out where we were the moment we stepped outside of the tiny motel room. A long flat beach greeted my eyes, along with calm waves rippling in the blazing sun. I could see a bank of clouds on the horizon indicating a storm was approaching, but it would be much later before it arrived.
“So where are we?” I asked, turning to Stud as he took my hand and we headed for the sandy expanse.
“Beach,” he said.
I slugged him in the shoulder. “I knew that part, smartass. What beach?”
He rubbed the spot where I hit him. “Damn, Cactus! Such violence!” he teased.
He was covering. I knew it and he knew it, but he wasn’t ready to say or do anything yet. I hoped he would be soon.
“North Carolina Outer Banks, ’bout halfway between Rodanthe and Waves. I picked up some flip-flops at the beach store where I got the coffees. The sand is too hot for barefoot walking.”
He was right. I could feel the heat burning through the thin layer of foam. We walked hand in hand, making comments on the houses, watching kids run and play in the surf, skirting around half-built sand castles, and nodding at families who had set up giant umbrellas for the day.
“It’s a great place. Peaceful. A lot of areas still untouched or protected and kept natural. A lot of history. Some amazing things happened up and down these islands. Blackbeard the pirate, the Wright Brothers making the first successful airplane, the lost colony. It’s an amazing place. It became one of my favorites.”
Stud rambled as we walked, telling me more about the islands’ history. We spent the day riding to the different sights. Climbing the Hatteras Lighthouse, going through the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum, riding the ferry to Ocracoke Island, and seeing that beautiful white lighthouse as well. The whole time we roamed and meandered the islands, he either held my hand or kept his arm around my shoulders or
waist. He wasn’t smothering me, but just seemed to want me close at all times.
I still didn’t know how long we would stay there and I hoped Stud would tell me soon. I was sure Connor had blown up my phone with texts, but I had turned it off earlier. We pulled into a small restaurant with an outdoor seating area with a good view of the Pamlico Sound. The smell of boiling seafood floated on the air. We got a table outside and ordered the house special. A steaming bucket of fresh-caught shrimp, soft shell crab, and oysters was placed in front of us as well as a platter of fried trout and Spanish mackerel. I thought I was going to burst before we got up from the table.
“How ’bout some ice cream?” Stud asked, sticking a toothpick between his teeth as we left. I tried to pay for some of the stuff we did during the day, but every time I pulled out my wallet, he growled at me and swiped his card.
“You’ve got to be kidding?” I joked, leaning into him. “It will take me a week to burn off the load we just put away.”
“I could stay here a week,” he said, a serious tone in his voice. “Maybe longer. It was here I finally broke away from my family and found myself.”
We were walking on the pier, our shoes making hollow sounds. A lone fisherman was packing up for the day, as the twilight was coming in as well as the threatening storm clouds. It had been a good day. A good day for both of us. We reached the end of the pier and I breathed in the salty tang. Stud looked out over the water but didn’t seem to see it. He gripped the weather-worn railing and started speaking.
“You have eyes and ears, so you know I don’t get along very well with my family. I don’t even really think of them much, now. The only person left in that house I want to see more often is my grandmother, but that’s pretty limited since I’d have to see them too. I think sometimes if I never laid eyes on them again I could be content for the rest of my life.”
He took a breath and fisted his hands as he so often did when he was trying to hold back and stay in control.
“When I was a kid, I was expected to be the best. Top grades, top athlete, class president, playing double bass in the orchestra, didn’t matter what it was. No exceptions. No praise if I succeeded, but damn if I didn’t get the shit beat out of me if I failed. I’m not talking about physical beatings. Dear old dad would never stoop to spanking his children, but I swear, my father can draw blood using his words. Once, I brought home four first-place trophies and one second place from a track and field competition. My mother never attended any meets, but my father came once in a while—and he came to that one. Not one word about all the first places. Only the second place. Two tenths of a second difference was all it took for my father to tell me I was a loser and would never amount to much. The other trophies meant nothing unless I won them all. I even won the overall first place for the day. Still wasn’t good enough. I was in seventh grade when that happened.”
He paused as if in some memory. I placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down, but staying silent. This was his time.
“My mother wasn’t any better. Sometimes I wonder how she and my father managed to produce two children. Dan and I were raised by an army of nannies and sitters. Abigail was too busy with her charity boards and club lunches to be bothered with us. We were too messy to be around, apparently. Calling her ‘mom’ was more like an insult to her than the title of pride it should have been. Dan and I were not close growing up. You’d think we would be, but our father used to make fun of him a lot. Telling him he would never be as good as me. Hearing that shit for years can really take a toll on a kid. The nannies never stayed around long. My father ended up fucking most of them, and Abigail would fire them when she found out. I remember catching him a few times. He always liked to take them from behind. Apparently he still does.”
My heart hurt. Stud may have had more given to him growing up, but that didn’t mean he had what really counted.
“Nana was my only escape. I spent as much time as I could with her, outside of tutors, lessons, sports, and whatever else I had to do. She was the most real person I knew and the only one to love me for me. Not the shiny awards or the continuation of the family bloodline. I got into Duke on academic merit. Do you have any idea how hard that is? My father said I was an embarrassment because I didn’t make the basketball team. Funny thing is, Nana hated Duke and was a big NC State fan until I got in. She put on a Duke sweatshirt and promptly became their biggest fan. My father raged at me for hours over the basketball team. Abigail wasn’t even interested.
“I was in law school when I met Vanessa. She came from an old family name, old family money. Abigail and Beau were thrilled at the connections. I guess it helped I fell in love with her. Hook, line, and sinker. Asked her to marry me just after I graduated and started at the family firm. Put a big rock on her finger, planned the big wedding, looked at big houses. That’s what I was supposed to do, right? Fairy-tale stuff. I thought life was going to be good and I could get out from under my father’s thumb. I shared with her my dreams and that my plans were to build a name for myself, and in a few years, break from my father’s firm to open my own office, my own place, be my own man. I thought she was behind me with this.”
He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Couple months before the wedding, I was working nearly round the clock, spending hours at the office, working case after case to earn my place there and get the money I needed to go out on my own. I forgot some important papers one afternoon and came home to get them. I found my father in the home office with her, fucking like animals. I can still remember her yelling out ‘fuck me harder, Daddy’ just before she saw me in the doorway. He didn’t stop, he just let me watch while he finished. His only words to me were ‘don’t be late for dinner’ when he left the room. She didn’t say anything. Just stood there and wouldn’t even meet my eyes.”
I probably looked like a bug as big as my eyes got but I managed to keep quiet and let him finish. Daytime soap operas weren’t this bad in the drama department.
He took a big breath.
“I left that night. Left my suits, ties, all the trappings of that life, just left it all. I came here to the banks for a few days. I thought I would just get away for a bit. Get my head together and figure out my next move. While I was here, I got a call from the women’s clinic telling me Vanessa was going to be kept overnight for observation. Apparently, she listed me as the first emergency contact. She had been getting sick a lot. Claimed it was the flu and she would be over it before the big wedding day. I was so naïve back then or maybe so involved in work, I didn’t question anything she said. Turns out it wasn’t flu. She was pregnant.”
He closed his eyes and dropped his head as if the weight was too much.
“They said the abortion had done some damage, but she was fine and resting, and I could come pick her up the next day. It was all very hush-hush, very discreet, no one outside the family knew. I don’t think even I was supposed to know about it except for that phone call.”
Holy shit! I thought. I pulled at his rigid arms and pushed myself into his body, wrapping around him as far as I could reach. He clung to me.
“Fuck, Eva. I didn’t really care if there was a chance the baby was my brother. I was ready to love my son or daughter no matter what, and that was taken away from me before I even knew I was a father. I cannot forgive that, ever.”
I could feel his body tremble as the emotional tide in him rose.
“I sold my car here at the banks and bought my first motorcycle and spent some time learning to ride. I’d always wanted one, but Beau had forbidden it and Abigail always called it ‘unrefined’ or ‘gauche.’ They no longer had a say about anything in my life and I didn’t want to own anything that reminded me of it. I just rode. Up and down the coast. Georgia. Florida. Staying wherever I stopped. I didn’t have to worry about money. Dear old dad couldn’t take away my trust. I just roamed. I was shattered. No purpose. No life. I finally roamed west and found myself in the mountains. Found the Dragon Runners. They put me back together. I o
we them my life.”
I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I pressed my cheek firmer into his shoulder, squeezing hard. These heart-to-heart talks were not very familiar to me as the only ones I ever had with any depth were the occasional ones with Connor. I wanted to help Stud, but I really didn’t know what to say. I just held on, hard as oak, and hoped he got something out of it.
“I’m still fucked-up, though. Deep down inside, I’m still so goddamn fucked-up. I’m half a man, living a half-life. I can hide it really well thanks to my childhood training, but I’m so goddamn broken, I don’t think I’ll ever truly be whole again.”
I could hear his voice wavering as he clutched at me. He was about to lose it and lose it big. This, I could do something about.
“Bullshit,” I announced to his shoulder.
He jumped at my harsh announcement.
“What?” he asked, startled.
“You heard me. I call bullshit,” I said again, pulling away to look in his face. His eyes were red and a look of confusion shone bright in them.
“You know me, Stud. You know I’m not going to sugarcoat things all pretty, pat you on the head, say ‘there, there, dear’ and tell you some bullshit story. You had a childhood that sucks monkey butt. A big-ass monkey butt at that! Your dad is an ass, your mom is a snob, your brother is weak, and your ex is a fucking coward. All of that was a big challenge for you. Bigger than a lotta men can take on, but you dealt with it and moved on. Listen to me good here, Stud. You’re not broken. You’re not fucked up. You got dealt a heavy blow. A fucking big one that would knock the knees from under anyone with a heart, but you’re still here and you got away from it. You survived and moved on. You found a life and a damn good one. There’s no reason for you to think those assholes get a say in anything. They do not own you! They do not define you!”
I took a breath, just getting wound up. This was the best way I knew to deal with my brothers. Meet them head-on in any type of conflict. Stud, however, didn’t argue back, get mad, blow up, or have any of the other reactions I expected.
