A knock sounds on the door and the doctor strolls over to the chair. “The radiologist sent over your results and it looks as though you have two broken knuckles, your pinky and ring finger and a distal radius fracture. I have a splint here for you to wear until you can follow-up with an orthopedic in the next few days.” He sets out to wrap my wrist and fingers with the splint and ace bandage. “I’ll have the nurse bring in a list of local doctors in the area that you can follow-up with. Also she will have a prescription to give you for the inflammation and pain, and your release papers. Do you have any questions for me?”
“No I think I’m good.” I say, thinking about which orthopedic doctor I will see back home, since I’m getting out of this place as soon as I possibly can.
“Alright, the nurse will be right in with that information and release papers for you to sign.” He said as he was on his way out the door.
The nurse walks in with a stack of papers. She hands me a list of doctors, which I won’t be needing since I’m not sticking around this place. “Here you go. This is a script for Ibuprofen 800 milligrams. You should take one to two every four to six hours, as needed for pain. It will help with the pain and the swelling. Anytime you can elevate your hand above your heart, it will help as well with the swelling.” She spouts out information that I already know. But I don’t say anything. I just accept the script and nod my head. She places my discharge papers in front of me on the rolling table for me to sign. I sign them and get my copies and head out, thanking her.
Heading out of the hospital, I realize how late it really is—early morning still cloaked in darkness. Being that it is late October, I’m sure it’s going to be freezing. The walk home is going to be very cold. At least it is only about nine blocks away. If I power walk, I should stay heated up long enough to get there without freezing to death. Not that it’s that cold, but come on, it’s not warm either.
"About fucking time." I hear Ford say from behind me, making me jump. I turn around and there he is. He still has that look on his face, like I'm not real. What is that about?
"Don't sneak up on me like that." I hiss at him.
"I'll do what I want babe. Let's go. This place creeps me the fuck out." He says, walking out the door.
Well, what the hell just happened? Tomorrow. I'm leaving tomorrow, I keep reminding myself. I don't need him to rile me up anymore and hurting myself again. No more trips to the hospital for me—none. I follow him to his truck. He’s waiting by the passenger door with it open, how gentlemen like. Don't fall for it. I tell myself.
"Such a gentleman." I snarl. Clearly putting off the biggest mean girl vibe I can radiate.
"Not likely. I don't feel like waiting on your crippled ass to climb in my truck." He smarts off in reply. Tomorrow, I remind myself to keep my cool, even though I'm on fire. I do not want to be within a hundred miles of this asshole.
“Where are you staying?” he asks.
“My parent’s house.” I mutter, I'm so mad. Mad at tonight, mad at Lissa for dragging me into this mess, mad at Ford, mad at myself for pulling myself further into it with hitting him. I huff, counting the minutes until I'm at the house.
I can tell the ride is going to be silent, thank God. There is not anything I want or need to say to this man. We stop at the twenty-four hour pharmacy and get my scripts filled. Once I am in the truck, I take a pill to ease the pain in my hand again. I clearly slept off the pain medication from earlier. My body is heating up and not from the medication either. He is just inches from me; all solid sexiness. I can smell him—pure sex. The smell of leather, motor oil, and man—all man. He has his sleeves pushed up on his forearms and I can see some tattoos on him that I did not notice before. He doesn’t have as much as Jack. Still, quite a few. I can’t make them out in the dim lights of the street lamps passing as we drive. I stare out the window. If I look at him any longer, I won’t be able to control what my body is saying. I blame the pain pills, no more. They are making me a horny teenage girl.
Pulling into my parent’s driveway, I open the door, swing my feet out and fall right on my face. Damn it! With the urgency to get away from him, I forgot the truck was high as hell. Shit! That’s going to hurt later. Landing mostly on my side, pain shoots to my elbow and knee. I hurry to my feet, limping as fast as I can to the front door. Ford is right at my side, helping me. I can feel his body shaking, then I hear a small chuckle escape his lips.
“What the hell is so funny?” I ask.
“You are accident prone. You fell from my truck. There is a step ladder you know.” He says.
“It is not funny. Your truck is as high as a four-story building. I know if I want to commit suicide all I got to do is jump.” He laughs harder now, not holding back—that beautiful laugh coming from that man sounds so heavenly. We get to the door and I pull out my keys. Opening the door, I stumble in, almost hitting the floor. Before I manage to hit though, Ford catches me. Ugh. The harder I try to get away from this man, the closer I get. I want to get even closer. Wait…What? Damn pain meds.
I hear something coming from the dark hallway. Shit, I completely forgot about Bronx.
Ford turns and pulls out his gun.
“Nooooo!” I scream.
“Ford, No!” I see him glance at me. All I can think of is Bronx, dead with a bullet hole in him. No. Not my boy. I can’t imagine my life without Bronx.
“Bronx, come here boy. It’s me.” I say.
“Bronx?” Ford repeats his name, lowering his gun, looking confused. Thank God.
Bronx comes into the light, I repeat. “Bronx, come.” He eyes Ford and comes to sit in front of me.
“Hey, boy. I missed you.” I say, petting his head. He relaxes and lies at my feet. Ford puts his gun away, after all that excitement. I clearly forgot he carried a gun. Why does he need a gun? I knew the club was bad, but I didn't think it was gun carrying bad.
“Why do you have a gun?” I ask.
“Protection. Why do you have a big ass dog?” His smart ass mouth always got to me. He doesn’t, well, didn’t have to have that wall up with me. Time changes everyone. Wait. Why do I care about his wall?
Damn pain pills. Making me think stupid thoughts.
“Protection.” I answer back, clearly he senses my cockiness.
“You can leave now, Ford.” I say to him.
“Not happening, sugar. We need to talk.” He says heading to the kitchen.
Great! I do not want to talk! I could sick Bronx on him, but again, I don’t want my dog dead. Ugh. I knew I would have to face this part of my past eventually. Yet, I’m not ready. There is a reason I stayed away from this town for so long. Shit. I can’t even open up to Lissa. The one person I should be able to have my guard down with. I know what he wants to know. I’m not ready to say it out loud. It will make it real, and for now it's just a bad, bad dream. I have not spoken about it at all; even when it happened. I’ve locked that away so many years ago. He’s definitely going to make me dig it back up—I know he is. Just thinking about it gives me a chill down my spine. My eyes water and my heart sinks. He’s got to already know, right? Maybe it’s not what he wants to speak to me about. Then what else could it be? Maybe an apology for the last time we saw one another. It wouldn’t make a difference; it was so long ago. I feel a sharp pain go to my knee, jerking me back to reality. He is leaning down in front of me with a wash cloth on my bleeding knee. I completely forgot about my fall, with worrying about almost losing Bronx. I see Bronx has moved to beside me on the couch, his head across my lap. He feels the need to protect me. I wish he could protect me from what hurts me the most—my painful memories. I did not even feel him climb up here and lay on me.
“Where are your bandages?” He asks, almost in a caring voice.
Don’t fall for it Harley. Damn you. I get a whiff of the smell that is completely all him, again. Ugh, so delicious.
Shut up, he broke your heart! Do not give him the satisfaction of how he makes your body react. Keep it together, bury it
like you do everything else.
My inner voice is right, bury it. It’s something I'm good at—burying feelings.
“Bathroom.” I sigh.
He returns from the bathroom, immediately starts wrapping up my knee, and then my elbow. I am nothing but one huge walking bandage, with my hand, and now my knee and elbow. Here it comes, what I have avoided for all these years.
“We are going to talk now, Harley.” He informs me with coldness now in his voice. I can tell the difference from when he was laughing at me to this steel-faced man. He let his guard fall for only a moment. Now, it’s all business I guess.
“What is there to talk about Ford?” I know what he wants to discuss, but to me there isn’t anything to say. As soon as he told me he wasn’t ready to be a father all those years ago, that was what cancelled him out of my life. That means he has no say, so I don’t have to answer to him.
“How’s the kid?” He asks.
*******************************************
Ford
She won't answer me. She's just staring like I've lost my mind. How much drugs did they give her? Can't be much for a beat up hand. She instantly puts on a cold look.
"You need to leave now." She says, getting up and limping to the door.
Oh hell no, who does this bitch think she is? I want answers and I'm going to get them.
"I'm not leaving Harley, sit the fuck down." I growl. My nerves are growing thin. I want to know about the kid. I probably don't have a right to ask. Fuck right! When do I care about what’s right or wrong? Never.
She continues to ignore me, hoping that I will ease up.
"Cut the bullshit girl, I deserve to know about the kid."
"Hell you do, Ford. You don't deserve shit, and I sure as shit don't owe you a damn thing." Okay. This is going to be harder than I thought, stubborn ass woman.
"Tell me and I'll leave."
"Get the hell out!" She screams.
"Nope, I think I'll get comfortable. Got any beer?" I smile at her.
I can tell she is over working those gears in her pretty little head. She'll break. Time. Just takes time. I know I hurt her, but shit. The past is the past; leave it there. But all women hold grudges. Damn females give me headaches. One of the many reasons I've never took an old lady.
She huffs and puffs walking to the kitchen. Got her. She returns with a beer and a bag. Am I missing something? She hands me the beer, smiling sweetly. Too sweet if you ask me; something is up.
"What's with the bag, baby doll?" I ask, opening my beer. She walks to the door, calls for Bronx. He rushes to her side. She even has this damn dog pussy whipped. I chuckled to myself at the comment.
"Get comfortable." She says with a big icy smile. Not comforting to me at all; and with that, she’s gone.
What the hell just happened? She just left me here in her parent’s house. Damn. This is going to be harder than I thought. I just want to know how the kid is. I wasn't going to jump into a father role. It’s too late for that. When the kid was ready, he or she would find me. Drinking the beer she gave me before her dramatic exit, I sit here thinking of what I can do. I see this is going to need delicate exploration. She isn't going to openly talk to me about it; even after driving her broken ass to the hospital and home. Women.
I think on how to find out about the kid without even involving Harley.
Chapter Four
Harley
The nerve of that man, asking about something that doesn’t even concern him in the slightest. He made that clear all those years ago. Ugh. Annoyed, I drive to Lissa's house. I need her. Even if I didn’t directly speak of what was going on. I pull into her driveway. I drove faster than normal, thinking he would’ve followed me. Good. I don't want to have a screaming match in front of Lissa. Taking a deep breath and releasing it. “Tomorrow." I mutter to myself. I get out first, leaving Bronx in the jeep. I need to make sure Lissa will let him stay with me here first. It's not that I question her on letting him, it’s respectful to ask—polite. I knock on the door and Jack answers. Great. Can I have one second where a Hell Hound isn't in my face?
"Hey, Sexy Name." I roll my eyes. How original. Already irritated, I get to the point.
"Where is she?" He motions for me to come in. I step in to the side, he shuts the door. "She's still in bed babe, sorry. Anything I can help with?" Ugh. Of course she was. It's too early for her to be awake—especially on a Sunday. After a night of probably great sex with a sexy bad boy. And me, beating myself up. Literally. Jack scans over my broken body.
"Rough night?" he motions to my wrist and knee.
You don't know the half of it.
"No, I just like pain." I mouth off, walking toward Lissa's bedroom.
I can hear him as I walk away. "Damn, baby, you’re a wild one." He says laughing. Men. Disgusting. I hear his phone ring. He steps out the front door.
I crawl in bed with Lissa. Cuddling up to her, I wake her gently.
"Lissa, I need you. Wake up."
"Hmm…No more baby, five times is enough. I'm sore." Damn. Her sex life was way more exciting than my non-existent one. I made a mental note to get details later. I have to live vicariously through someone.
"No, it's me. Harley."
"Harley, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?" She shoots her eyes open and sits up rubbing them.
"Everything is fine, we'll talk later. I just wanted to know if Bronx and I could stay the night here."
"Of course, don't even have to ask babe. Take the second bedroom." She says with a sleepy smile. Turns out I needed her again tonight. Man, I have the greatest friend anyone could ask for.
I kiss her on the head and go to get Bronx. Jack was just hanging up as I opened the door. I go to my jeep and let Bronx out.
"Jesus Christ, that's one big ass fucking guard dog. That love for pain could always get out of control, I guess. Don't want you out of business do we, babe?" He says with a smirk. I just walk past him and straight to the second bedroom. I shut the door behind Bronx. We climb into bed and I snuggle up to him, drifting off to sleep muttering "Tomorrow..."
I wake up to something heavy on the foot of the bed. Knowing it’s Bronx, I whisper for him to come. "Come here boy."
He jumps up, circles, and lies next to me. I snuggle up to him, loving his warmth, before drifting off again. Still feeling the weight at the end of the bed, I open my eyes thinking Lissa is there. It's Ford sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me sleep. I jump at the surprise.
"Stalker." I say sitting up.
He stares me down with his cold eyes. "Don't you have a motorcycle to ride, or a gun to shoot?" I ask. He still just stares at me. What the hell is going on?
*******************************************
Ford
I decided on calling Jack last night, asking for recon on Harley and the kid. I needed him to pillow talk Melissa about it. If anyone knew how the kid was, it would be her.
"Hey Brother, I need a solid."
"It's early Brother. If it isn't tag teaming twins, it's too early for this shit." he says.
I laugh, he always had a way with words. Smart-ass.
"Listen Jack-ass.” Dragging out the insult. “Don't you think I wouldn't call if it wasn't?" I give him time to answer me. Make sure he's listening.
"This have anything to do with Harley walking through the door a few minutes ago?"
"Yeah, listen. She won't answer me about my kid, Brother. Past is past. Mistakes were made. Simple as that. I want to know how the kid is doing. Only one who could know is your girl. I need you to talk to her. Get the info and relay back to me, ASAP."
"Yeah, yeah, I got you, bro. You owe me a blow job."
With that, he hung up. I knew where Harley would run to. Melissa was her only friend in this shit town. Or a hotel but she has the mutt. So Melissa was her only choice. I just chilled at her parent’s house, waiting for word from Jack. No reason to go all the way back to the club, Melissa was just a few streets away. I t
hought staying closer was better. I have a feeling she'll head back home. I wonder why it's so hard for her to just answer me about the kid—something isn't adding up. Was she really that scared I would show up wanting to play daddy. Not likely. She can't think I would. It's been eighteen years for fuck's sake. The kid is seventeen years old. Way past time to be a real father. I missed all the growing up. The memories. That thought brings a sickening feeling to my reality. I did miss it all. Every step, word, laugh—all of it. Damn. I don't like this regret feeling. I'm not the kind of man that has regrets; life is too short for regrets. Wasting valuable time doing that shit. A worthless emotion if you ask me. I do regret pulling away from Harley when she needed me to be there for her. But hey, the past is the past. Leave sleeping dogs lie. Brushing off that shit emotion, I grab my third beer since I can't sleep. It's been one hell of a night.
I wake to my phone ringing in my hand. I must have nodded off. It's Jack.
"Hey Bro." I sound more asleep than awake.
"Wake up fucker, you’re going to want to hear this shit." He says straight. He was always a straight shooter—never beating around the bush; perfect attitude to be a brother. I appreciate the forwardness. I stand, walking outside to let the cold air wake me up a little more. I sit on the steps.
Taking a breath, I say. “Okay, report."
"You’re not going to like this man. Melissa said the kid was adopted."
I think for a moment. Okay, okay. I can still get Tech on it and check for me. Why the sudden ‘want’ to know the kid is? I have no fucking clue. I guess I thought Harley had it the entire time. With her being shady about it, my interest was piqued. I needed to know more. Put that little father part of me to rest. Worrying like this gives me chills. I don't like this new found worry or fatherly instinct, if that’s what this is. Nope.
"Okay, I can get Tech on it. Still find out how the kid is, why would she hide this like her life depended on it?" I was so confused about how she could hide this. It wasn't as if she knew how the kid was, unless she did have contact. I doubt it. She was too guarded. She would have said something like 'the kid is fine, or good, or fantastic'—something along those lines. It still isn't adding up.
Delayed Love Page 5
