by A. M. Myers
Tapping my pen against the table, I read through my article three more times before sighing. I start chewing on the cap and wonder if I should really send this in. I went through and documented my three dates in excruciating detail before ending it with my little message of hope, and I know that Mr. Klein is going to hate it. When he assigned this, he wanted something sexy and fun. If I send this in, I’m basically handing this job to Chelsea. But, on the other hand, I don’t know that I could stomach lying and acting like this past week was a fun time for me. And what good would it do my readers if I lied?
After all three dates, I just feel like I’m done. I’m done with letting these guys walk all over me. From Mr. Klein to each of the dates, I’ve been sufficiently trampled by men, and I’m so goddamn sick of it. I’m mad at myself for even agreeing to this. That day in his office, I should have told Mr. Klein exactly where to shove it when he suggested this. Everyone in the office knows that promotion should be mine, and yet, I was subjected to this little “test.” What will I do, though? If I send this in, tell my boss to shove it, and get fired, how will I support myself?
The doorbell rings, and I glance down the hallway toward the front door, remembering that Izzy and Carly are coming over as I toss my pen down and stand up. Taking one last look at my article, I sigh and close my computer, pushing it away from where I was sitting before going to the door, and flinging it open. I do my best to plaster a fake smile on my face but the moment Izzy sees me, her eyes narrow and she shakes her head.
“I don’t think so, sister. That fake ass smile isn’t convincing anyone,” she says, and despite my sour mood, I can’t help but laugh. She knows me so damn well, and she has absolutely no filter. If it pops into her head, it comes out of her mouth, and it’s one of the reasons I love her so much. You never have to guess where you stand with Iz. If she’s pissed, you’ll know.
“Where’s the wine?” she asks, shoving past me.
“Kitchen,” I call over my shoulder. She’s already halfway down the hallway, and I just shake my head and laugh again. Carly steps up and wraps me up in a hug. I feel a little of my stress melt away as she gives me a squeeze and releases me.
“I heard all about the article, Hon. It’s absolute bullshit. Chelsea’s boasting all over the office that she’s got this in the bag, and I wanted to stab her with my heel.”
I throw my head back and laugh, imagining Carly taking off her favorite four-inch black heels and digging them into Chelsea’s arm. I met Carly Mills when she started working at the paper shortly after I did, and we became friends instantly. She’s more mellow than Izzy, and I feel like she brings a balance to our group. “Well, that would make this whole thing a whole lot better.”
“Ladies!” Izzy yells from my kitchen, and Carly and I both turn to look at her. “If you don’t get in here, this bottle is going to be gone.”
I chuckle as I shut the door and turn to Carly. “What’s her deal tonight?”
“She’s irritated that she doesn’t know what’s going on with you. And she was kind of excited that she thought you were starting to date again.”
I just roll my eyes as we walk into the kitchen. Izzy’s sitting at my kitchen table with a big smile on her face and full wine glasses in front of three chairs.
“You’re impatient,” I tell her, and she nods, sliding my glass closer to me as I sit down.
“Yes, I am. Now, drink and spill.”
I eye the glass warily and look up at her again. “You didn’t slip truth serum in here or something, did you?”
Her eyes light up, and I start laughing. “No, but do you know where I can get some?”
“No.”
She pouts a little and scoots the glass a little closer. “Too bad.”
My gaze flicks to Carly who just shakes her head with a smile on her face as she brings the glass to her lips and takes a sip. Sighing, I do the same and look back to Izzy.
“Come on, lady. I’ve been waiting for days!”
“You need a Xanax,” I say, getting a little bit of pleasure from making her wait a little longer. Her eyes practically bug out of her head, and she looks like she’s about to explode.
“Alison Marie James! Now.” Her voice leaves no room for argument so I sigh and launch into telling them about the article and the first date.
“Idiot,” Izzy snorts when I tell them the part about the obstacle course.
I nod and continue telling them about the rest of the date, and when I finish, Izzy’s mouth is hanging open.
“Oh, no, he didn’t,” she seethes, and I nod.
“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction. Hence, why I called you.”
Shaking her head, she takes a big sip of wine. “Sweetie, if that had been me, I would have been calling you for bail money.”
I point at her and nod. “I just reminded myself that orange was not my color.”
“What about date number two?” Carly asks, hope in her eyes that maybe it wasn’t as bad.
“Ah, date number two was Zach,” I say and begin to tell them about the dinner from hell. When I finish, they’re both giving me looks of sympathy.
“Well, that’s fucking awkward,” Izzy says, taking a sip of her wine, and I laugh.
“Uh, yeah, you can say that again. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that fast in my life.”
“I would ask if date three was better but since you called me from the bathroom, I’m gonna say no.”
“Yeah, no,” I reply and begin telling them all about Blake. When I’m done, both of their mouths are hanging open, and they’re silent.
“Je-sus,” Izzy draws out before finishing off her glass of wine.
“I honestly have no words,” Carly says, staring dumbly at the table, and I nod. That was about how I felt last night after I snuck out of the restaurant and came home. It was like a nightmare, and I started to question if it really happened.
“Who even does shit like that on a date and where the hell did you find these guys? I mean, how short do you have to be on brain cells to call a woman a breeding machine? Just give me their names and I’ll make their lives a living hell, I swear to god,” Izzy rants, and I just shake my head, knowing she needs to get it out of her system.
“Honestly, it doesn’t matter now. I need to decide if I’m gonna play Mr. Klein’s game or tell him to go screw himself.”
“Did you already write the article?” Carly asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I’m gonna send it in.”
“Let me see it.”
I grab my computer and open it up, the Word document still pulled up on the screen as I slide it over to her. She leans in closer to the screen and starts reading.
“And you,” Izzy says, pointing at me as she narrows her eyes. “What the hell were you thinking going out with three fucking strangers without telling anyone? What if one of them had cut you up and put you in their freezer? How would we have known?”
I know she’s got a point but I just wanted to get the whole damn thing over with, and I knew if I talked to them about it, I would be even more negative on my dates.
“I was careful,” I tell her. I never let any of them know where I lived and always met them somewhere. They don’t even have my phone number. The only way they can contact me is through the dating website.
“Um… no, you were the exact opposite of careful. You didn’t tell either of us about this. You could have disappeared without a trace and we would have had no way of knowing where to start looking for you.”
“Does it matter now, Iz? It’s done and over with. Look. Here I am, safe and sound, in one piece.”
“You got lucky,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest for a second before uncrossing them and pouring herself some more wine.
“I really like it, Ali,” Carly says, pushing the computer away, and I smile. Whenever someone tells me they like what I wrote, I can’t help but grin. “But you’re right. Mr. Klein is not gonna be happy with it.”
“I’
m trying to decide if I even care anymore,” I say as I bring my glass to my lips.
“I hear you, Hon, but what the hell are you gonna do if you leave the paper?”
“And that right there is why I haven’t sent it in yet.”
She sighs and looks back to the computer for a second. “You know what, you’ll find something. And if you quit or he fires you, you’ll get scooped up quick.”
I set my glass down and spin the stem between my fingers, focusing on the reflection of the glass on the table. “You really think I should do this?”
“Do you want to write something else?” she asks, arching a brow, and I know she already knows the answer to that. Even if I tried, I don’t think I could. I’ve never lied to my readers, and I’m not going to start now.
“No.”
“Then what other choice do you have?”
Taking a deep breath, I push the glass away and pull my computer toward me. With shaky hands, I pull up my email and quickly send the article off to my boss. After I push send, I grab my glass of wine again and drain it.
“I’m proud of you, Ali,” Carly says, and I smile at her. “It’s disgusting that he even suggested this for the two of you. Even at her best, Chelsea isn’t half the writer that you are, and she shouldn’t even be in the running for the job.”
“Yeah, but you know why she is, right?” I ask, making a motion with my hand and mouth that gets the message across. Carly nods, and they both start laughing.
“Man, if I realized that was all it took, I would have become a partner years ago,” Izzy says, referring to her job as a paralegal at a law office downtown, and we all laugh again.
“Maybe I should just quit,” I say, feeling a little bolder than I did moments ago.
“And do what?” Izzy asks.
“I don’t know what I want to do, I just know that I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“If it’s meant to be,” Carly says, quoting the article I just sent in, and I smile as I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Chapter Four
Storm
I fucking hate hospitals.
My boots squeak on the linoleum floor as I stare down the hallway and make my way to her room, doing my best to push back the deluge of memories frantically trying to take over my mind. After that night, I swore I would never be back here, but for her, I would do just about anything. Everything about this place haunts me, from the sound of monitors beeping and loved ones crying to the smell of antiseptic. Each little thing like a demon hiding in the shadows, laying in wait to reach out and pull me back into that night and everything I lost.
The memories start to overwhelm me, and I have to stop, leaning back against the wall, and closing my eyes as I try to pull air into my body. Flashes of images, like a horror movie, roll through my brain, and I lean over, squeezing my eyes shut tighter like that might make them stop as I fist my hands on my knees.
“Sir, are you okay?” someone asks, and I snap back up into a standing position. The only thing worse than losing my shit is someone watching me do it. The woman in blue scrubs standing behind the nurses’ station offers me a reassuring smile, and I clear my throat.
“Can you tell me which room Emma West is in?” I ask, and she nods, looking down at her computer.
“Are you family?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
She looks up and smiles at me, her gaze trailing down my body. “Room 116.”
“Thanks.”
The sign at the end of the hallway instructs me to go left, and I walk off without another word, ready to see Emma and the babies so I can get the fuck out of here. I love that girl but I don’t want to spend more time than I have to in this place. Once I find her room, I pause, taking a deep breath to push all my shit back down before I walk in there to see her. Emma’s got eyes like a hawk, and if I go in there even a little bit upset, she’ll fucking know it.
When I feel in control, I push the door open and close it quietly behind me. Emma’s in the bed with a little bundle in each arm, and when I walk in, she looks up and grins at me. Nix is passed out in the chair next to her bed, his arms crossed over his chest, and his legs kicked out in front of him. I grimace at the awkward angle his neck is bent in, glad that I’m not him. That’s gonna be one hell of a headache when he wakes up.
“Hey, stranger,” Emma whispers and beams at me, happiness just rolling off of her in waves. My chest aches as I remember a time in my life when I knew what it was like to be that happy but I smile through it as I shove those feelings back down. I’m so used to this routine. Feel and shove it back down again and again. Over and over until maybe one day, it won’t hurt so fucking bad just to be alive.
“Hey, sis. How you doing?” I never thought when I met this girl nine months ago that she’d become so important to me but she wormed her way into my heart without even trying. Hell, every single guy in the club is putty in her tiny little hands. Here we are, big bad bikers who take on assholes every day of the week without blinking an eye, and she’s like the little sister we never realized we wanted. She asks for anything and we all jump to give it to her.
“We’re good,” she answers me, glancing down at the babies sleeping in her arms. “You wanna stay with me for a while so Nix can go get some food?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m fine,” Nix grumbles from the chair, not even bothering to open his eyes, and I chuckle.
“Phoenix West, you haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, and I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
“You can not,” he snorts and peeks open one eye to look up at her. She grins at him, and the love they have for each other is so obvious you would have to be blind to miss it.
“Go get some food,” she says and looks to the door, but he just shakes his head.
“You haven’t eaten either. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, will you go get me some food? And while you’re there, get some for yourself.”
He opens his eyes and sighs.
“Please?” she asks, adding in a little pout, and I hold back my laughter, knowing that he doesn’t stand a chance. He sighs again and stands, leaning over her bed to kiss her forehead before looking down at his kids, and kissing her again.
“I love you. Be right back.”
She nods. “Love you, Baby.”
When he passes me, I hear his stomach growl loudly, and I start laughing. He would have starved himself to death if she hadn’t made him leave. I move to the side of her bed and sink down into the chair that Nix just vacated as he steps out of the room and closes the door behind him. Looking up at her, I can’t help but smile. She’s fucking glowing.
“You look happy, little mama.”
“I am,” she says, her green eyes smiling down at me as she pulls her gaze away from the babies resting in her arms. “It’s so crazy, though. It was only a year ago that I was scared to death of everything. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize the person staring back at me and now look at me. I’m a wife and a mom, and I can’t remember a time in my life when I was happier than I am right now. Life changes so fast and if you blink, you could miss it.”
I nod, trying my best to swallow past the thump in my throat. She doesn’t need to tell me that. I know all too well just how quickly life can throw you a curveball and fuck everything up. I shove it all back down again, disgusted with just how good I am at it.
“I’m just so thankful,” she says, oblivious to my inner torture. “If it wasn’t for Nix, you, and all the other guys, I wouldn’t be here right now. You saved my life, Storm, and you saved my babies. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
“You don’t got to repay me for anything, Darlin’.” When I joined the club, Blaze, our president, and his son, Nix, hadn’t spoken in years but after Blaze got shot, he knew he wanted to make changes in his life. He turned the club in a new direction and tried to reconcile with Nix but it wasn’t easy. For a long time, thei
r relationship was strained but Emma brought them together. When Nix came to Blaze for help, they bonded, and from the moment that I saw Nix and Emma together, I knew she was the one for him. I’d never seen him like he was with her, and in an instant, she became family to all of us.
“There isn’t anything on this earth that me or any of those other guys wouldn’t do for you and yours,” I tell her. She smiles and shakes her head as a tear slips down her cheek.
“Damn hormones,” she chuckles, looking down at the babies in her hands as she tries to wipe her cheek with her shoulder and misses completely.
Smiling, I stand from the chair and wipe her cheek with the back of my fingers, and she laughs again. “You gonna let me hold one of these kids?” I ask, motioning to the two little boys in her arms. She nods as the tears dry up.
“Which one do you want?”
“Shit, it don’t matter,” I laugh, reaching for the one farther away from me. They look so damn tiny, and I don’t want to try and maneuver them too much.
“That’s Grady,” she says as I position him in the crook of my arm and sit back down in the chair. God, he looks so much like Nix that if Emma wasn’t lyin’ in a hospital bed, I would question if he was hers. Another memory nags at me, and this one is harder to shove back down. There was a time in my life when I looked forward to all this - marriage, kids, a family of my own.
“They look just like Nix, don’t they?” she asks, and I look up, grateful for the distraction.
“They sure do. I was about to ask if you were sure they were yours.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Well, if the pain I’m feeling is any indication, I’m gonna say yes.”
