It was a simple request, but the beginning of what would be a long, on again, off again relationship that ended up meaning a hell of a lot more to me than it did her.
Rebecca Michelle Foster was loud, funny, and her sense of humor was out of this world. Nothing was off-limits to her. She joked about everything from blowjobs and anal fisting to the Holocaust. To some people that might have been offensive, but it wasn’t meant that way. Bec was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and would give someone in need her last dollar if she thought it would help them.
I’m not going to lie to you, Bec and I fucked like rabbits from the first night I met her until we called off our whatever the hell it was relationship seven years later. It wasn’t serious, and we definitely weren’t exclusive. Both of us knew the score. Funnily enough, it wasn’t me who laid down the ground rules of our arrangement, that was all Bec.
Three months before I met her, she’d just gotten out of a semi-serious long-term relationship with a guy she had been dating since college. He did the dirty on her, fucking one of her friends at work in the staff breakroom. Bec, unfortunately, just happened to be on her lunch break, finding her boyfriend fucking the chick bent over the pull-out couch.
Needless to say, after that eye-opener, Bec wasn’t interested in hooking up with anyone else unless it was no strings sex. Something I was completely okay with.
*****
See, back then, I had a problem. A fucking big problem. I was in love with a sixteen-year-old girl. I didn’t want to be, and I hated that I was, but nothing I did had yet to change the fact I was one hundred percent, head over heels in love with her. And if her Dad found out, I’d also be one hundred and ten percent fucking dead. As in, chopped up into little pieces and scattered throughout the Rocky’s, dead.
Don’t ask me how it happened, because for the life of me I don’t know. One day she was just a cute kid who hung around at the clubhouse that I saw from time-to-time when I was in town on leave, and the next, she was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. The worst part was, she wasn’t even actually a woman yet. She looked like one, talked like one, and behaved like one, but she wasn’t. She was six-fucking-teen. A kid for Christ’s sake.
I can’t tell you how many times in those days I wanted to kill myself for looking at her and getting hard. It made me feel like a fucking pedophile staring at a high school kid, my cock hardening at the sight of her. But even then, I couldn’t bring myself to stay away from her altogether.
It’s not like we spent lots of time together anyway. Maybe that was my justification for not keeping my distance entirely, but that didn’t make what I felt any less real. Being in the Army, I wasn’t home much – two or three times a year for a couple of weeks at most. My unit was almost permanently deployed, which in light of my problem was a damn good thing.
Everything about that girl called to me on a primal, visceral level. The way she listened intently to every word I said. The way her voice softened in sympathy when I told her about the men I lost on my last mission. And the tears that filled her eyes that weren’t for my men, but for me.
It didn’t hurt she was stunningly beautiful either. Waist length blonde hair, legs that go for miles, an abundance of curves, and that angelic face was, and still is the stuff of my fantasies. Fucking everything about her was perfect. So was the situation. Perfectly fucked up, that is.
Not only would her Dad kill me for even thinking about his little girl like that, but the rest of his club would also want in on the action too. I wouldn’t have even needed to touch her for them to put a bullet in my head, the thought alone would have signed my death warrant. And I wouldn’t have blamed them for following through with it either.
I was a twenty-nine-year-old man lusting after a sixteen-year-old girl. Nothing about that was right, so why did it feel that way? Why did my world settle on its axis when I was around her? Why was she the only thing I thought of all day and every night? And why no matter how hard I tried – and believe me, I tried – couldn’t I see anyone’s face other than hers when I was balls deep inside another woman?
Those questions were ones I asked myself for two years after realizing what I felt for her wasn’t simply lust but something deeper. I couldn’t bring myself to admit I was in love with her to her or myself, but I was. Unequivocally. Completely. Irrevocably.
You’d think I would have made a move after she turned eighteen if I felt that way about her, wouldn’t you? But I didn’t. I couldn’t. She deserved better than a man who couldn’t be there for her. Like I said, I was out of the country more often than I was in it. If she needed me, I wouldn’t be able to be at her side. I couldn’t comfort her if she was upset, take care of her like I wanted to, or protect her from being hurt.
Don’t think I was entirely self-sacrificing, though. Sure, I knew I wasn’t good enough for her, that she deserved better, but I kept a safe distance for another reason too. And that reason wasn’t her Dad and his club; it was me.
I knew without a doubt, I would destroy her. Not in the way you’re thinking either. If she and I were together the way I am would eventually tear us apart. I’m a jealous, possessive, and demanding man. I don’t take kindly to the woman I’m with getting attention from other men. I won’t tolerate her talking to, flirting with, or touching any man but me. Not to mention, there’s no way in hell I’d be able to handle not being with her 24/7. And, I can assure you, a woman that looks like she does gets a fuck ton of attention.
I spent the year after she turned eighteen wrestling with my decision not to pursue a relationship with her. Every time I saw her, I rethought it. When she’d call my name across a room, or threw herself in my arms telling me she was happy I was home safe, I’d curse myself for it.
Some of the hardest times for me were when I saw her eyes flare with emotions which mirrored my own. The lust. The desire to touch me. The deep, all-consuming love. It was all there, and it took everything I had to restrain myself from going after the only woman who would ever own my heart.
That’s where Bec came in. What we had was a distraction when I needed it most. She gave me a way to work out my frustrations without having to worry about becoming attached. There weren’t any feelings on her side either, of that she assured me. I knew this was true when I told her about the other woman I’d met that I began sleeping with. Alysia.
*****
Alysia and my relationship was much the same as mine and Bec’s. It was fun, casual fucking. But where it differed was the type of woman Alysia was. Sharp, focused, and driven. She wasn’t fun, carefree, and sweet like Bec.
Alysia was in the Army as well, deployed just as often as I was, and tough as nails. When we hooked up, it was intense. We burned hot for each other, but just as soon as that fire peaked, it petered out too.
For a while there, I was under the mistaken impression I’d fallen in love with Alysia. However, when I really thought about it, I recognized what I felt wasn’t love; it was respect plain and simple. I cared about Alysia, a lot, but I wasn’t in love with her. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that until I made the mistake of asking her to marry me, though. Yeah, I know, not my smartest move, but no one’s accused me of being a genius before.
I’ll give Alysia this. She let me down gently, and my stupidity, thankfully, didn’t affect the connect we had because we’ve remained good friends throughout the years. In the end, it all worked out for the best because now, she’s married to her first and only love; Rob.
Alysia had been in love with Rob since back when they went to high school together. The feeling was mutual, but in those days, Rob was too fucked up and damaged to drag Alysia into the shit show that was his life. So, he did what any man who loves a woman with his entire heart and soul would do; he left.
To cut a long story short, Rob suffered through some of the worst kind of abuse any kid could suffer. He may have come out the other side of it winning the girl, but it took a long time, a lot of help, and a life-threatening situation to get them
there. They’re happy now, though. Deliriously so. And I’m happy for them.
It took a while, but I realized that all my relationship with Alysia and Bec ended up teaching me was that I couldn’t escape what I felt for her. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how much distance I put between us, or how many women I fucked, it would always be her for me.
That’s probably why I made the phone call I did.
One of Tank’s conversations with me struck home. It didn’t matter I was drunk at the time, I remembered every word, and I needed someone to process them with.
Lying in bed, in my quiet apartment, alone last night, I thought about everything Fury said and nothing but. The words were on repeat in my head until I had to do something to shut them off. So, I did the only thing I could.
“Yeah?” The gruff voice on the other end of the phone answered.
“Brother, you got the time to talk, I’ll take it.”
He didn’t ask questions, something I was grateful for. He also didn’t hesitate in saying,
“When? You name the time and place, and I’ll be there, Jay.”
“Tomorrow. Twelve. Lunch at Hound’s,” I managed to grunt out, the gravity of what I was about to do hitting me with the force of a ten-ton truck.
“I’ll see you then, brother. We’ll talk,” Fury said, his tone full of promise. What he was promising I don’t know, but I suppose it won’t be long before I find out.
“Yeah. Later,” I replied, disconnecting quickly.
See, the reality of it all is, that intermingled with the feelings of sadness over Bec being gone, devastation at how she died, and guilt over not being able to save her; I feel bone-deep relief. And that scares the shit out of me, hence, my call to the only man I know who might understand where I’m coming from.
After losing his wife and unborn child, Fury out of anyone knows how it feels to have loved and lost. He knows how real the struggle to go on is. And now that he’s with Avery, he knows how to get through it and make it out the other side where everything is sweeter.
But back to why I feel relief.
It’s simple really. There’s no doubt in my mind that after suffering through what she did before she died, Bec wouldn’t have come out the other side of it the same woman, not even remotely.
It takes a special kind of woman, one like Avery or Beth to recover from the atrocities the three of them went through and not break. And Bec was not that woman. She wasn’t as strong as Avery and Beth are. No amount of support, help, care, or time would have repaired all of the wounds she sustained. Sure, her body would have healed. But her mind and her soul? Never.
That’s why I felt relief when I found her. As I cradled her cold, lifeless body to my chest, frantically checking for a pulse I knew I wouldn’t find, I was relieved when I confirmed her heart had long since given out. Not only because she’d never be the happy-go-lucky jokester anymore, but because I know for a fact the second she opened her eyes in the hospital if she’d lived, Bec would have prayed for death.
We’d once had a conversation about what Beth had gone through when she was younger – what Markham had done to her – and Bec admitted she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if that had happened to her. Bec was blunt when she explained that if she were brutally raped the way Beth was, she would take her own life. The disgust she would feel would be too overwhelming.
It killed me to hear her talk about ending her life, but in part, I saw where she was coming from. However, I will say; at the same time it made my chest fill with a newfound respect for Beth. How she overcame it and turned into the woman she is today is nothing short of awe-inspiring.
After making the call to, Fury, I had every intention of turning over and going to sleep. I was exhausted, and I can tell you now, running on less than three hours sleep a night is no joke. If my messaged alert hadn’t sounded at precisely that moment, I’m sure I would have been out like a light in less than a minute, but that wasn’t to be.
*Angel – Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you, but you won’t answer the phone or my messages. Just let me know you’re okay, and I’ll leave you alone.
I briefly consider ignoring this message too, as I have the last dozen or so, but something inside me has me snatching up my cell and tapping out a reply.
*Jay –I’m fine.
Short and to the point. I figure it’s enough to let her know I’m still breathing and, hopefully, make her stop checking up on me. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, or love that she cares, it’s just that I don’t want to have to explain what the fuck is going on with me when I don’t know myself.
*Angel – I highly doubt that, but that’s all you’re going to give me, isn’t it?
*Jay – Yes.
*Angel – Just know that I’m here if you need me. I’m not going anywhere, so if you ever want to talk, I’ll always be ready to listen.
This time, I don’t reply, I can’t. The emotion clogging my throat has me swallowing multiple times just to dislodge the lump rapidly forming, cutting off my ability to take a deep breath.
*Angel – Goodnight Jo. Sweet dreams.
Seeing her use of the nickname she gave me over ten years ago has the first genuine grin I’ve managed since before Bec was killed tipping the corners of my mouth. She started calling me, Jo because she said I was too big a personality to fit into the one letter abbreviation of my given name the MC gave me.
Back then, I didn’t have the heart to break it to her that it wasn’t one but three letters that spelled out Jay, I just loved that she called me something different to everyone else. And if it made her happy, that was all that mattered.
Rolling over, I place my phone on my nightstand, shuck off my jeans and rip my t-shirt over my head. Crossing my arms over my chest, I close my eyes and picture her face. Not Bec’s; Blaine’s.
CHAPTER TWO
~ Jonas ~
“Please wait…Sarcasm still loading.”
- Coffee cup
Stepping into Hounds, the smell of stale beer and smoke assails my senses making my already churning gut revolt. Swallowing back the bile threatening to expel every last ounce of the fifth of Jack I downed last night, I make my way over to the booth Fury is seated at.
“Ordered you a burger and coke, brother,” he informs me. “I figured your liver would thank me for the reprieve,” he hints at the knowledge I’ve been drinking too much lately.
“Thanks, man, I appreciate it.”
Fury eyes me warily for a few seconds before delving into why we’re both here to begin with. Trust him to be straight to the point. Not that I should have expected any different from him, Fury is nothing if not a man of few words.
“So, what’s on your mind? I’m not saying that I’m not pleased as fuck you called me, just would have thought you’d have done it sooner.”
“Wasn’t ready then,” I say with a shrug. “I’m not going to lie to you, I’m no closer to being ready now, but something’s gotta give, just not sure what.”
“It’s a start, brother,” Fury offers. “There’s no right or wrong time to move on, man, but locking yourself away like you have been sure as hell isn’t the answer. Unless some kind of wisdom is being reflected from the bottom of one of those bottles you’ve been going through, that is.”
Groaning and gripping the sides of my head, I reply,
“Damn straight. All they’re giving me is a roaring headache and fucking dehydration, no wisdom there.”
“You gonna leave me hanging here, or do you want to tell me what this meeting’s all about so we can get it done and get to eating?”
Considering my options, I realize there is no good way to ease into this. Instead, I just lay it all out.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking while I’ve been holed up at home, and the one thing I can’t get my head around is why I feel so fucking relieved she’s gone. I’m not saying I’m happy she is, but I’m not gonna lie, the relief is real. Thought about it, let it sink in and then tho
ught some more, but that feeling isn’t dissipating any the longer she’s gone. At first, I figured it had something to do with her not being strong enough to make it through her recovery if she’d held on, but now I’m thinking it’s for a different reason altogether.”
Pausing long enough to gauge Fury’s reaction, I shake my head before taking a long drink.
“If I hadn’t lived through what you’re dealing with now, brother, I’d say that was a fucking strange reaction to seeing someone you love die but know this. It’s not. I won’t say it’s completely normal, but it’s not abnormal either. You’ve heard my story, Jay, you know what I came home to, so I’m not lying when I tell you that shit will eat you up inside if you let it. Don’t sit there and let what you’re feeling fuck with your head, it won’t do you or anyone else any good. You want to lay it on me? Have at it. You want to give it to someone else? I’m good with that. But for fucks sake, don’t allow this shit to consume you the way it has been.”
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas Page 63
