“What the fuck crawled up his ass?” Crash asks.
“Sara’s flying home,” Wolf informs him.
Crash eyes me, lifting his chin to me. “Thought you two had something.”
“They do,” Wolf answers for me.
“So why’d he let her leave?” Crash asks Wolf, cutting me out of the conversation like I’m not even in the room.
“Cause he’s a dumbass.”
“That goes without saying. I was hoping this chick rubbed some sense off on him.”
“It’s not osmosis, Crash.”
He ignores Wolf’s smartass comment, his eyes on me. “Is the MC the problem?”
I shake my head, because I really don’t think it had anything to do with her leaving.
“You do something stupid?” he asks.
I cut him with a glare.
“This is Green we’re talking about, Crash,” Wolf replies. “Of course, he did something stupid.”
“What’d you do?” Crash asks.
“Nothing. Why’d I have to be the one that did something?”
“Cause you’re Green.”
“Fuck off, both of you.”
“Did she do something, then?” Crash asks, totally not fucking off.
“No, okay. Drop it.”
“Fine,” Wolf replies, holding his palms in the air, “but tell me one thing.”
I cock a brow and glare at him. “Just one? You promise?”
He grins. “You’re a fucking dick.”
“Love you, too, brother.”
“You did ask her to stay, didn’t you?”
I stare at my shot glass, the amber liquid glowing in the dim light of the clubhouse. My silence is answer enough.
“You dumbfuck,” he breathes.
“What stopped you?” Crash asks.
Besides my gut-wrenching fear that I’d ask and she’d leave anyway? Like hell I’m going to admit that to these two, so I stay silent.
“You had something, man. We all saw it.” Crash nudges Wolf with his elbow. “Didn’t we?”
Wolf studies me, like he’s on to me. “Yep. If ever there was a sweet little gal made for you, it’s her.”
“And we had our doubts there was anybody that’d take you on, shithead,” Crash adds, rubbing salt in my wound.
“Hit a man when he’s down, why don’t ya?” I grunt.
Wolf chuckles and lifts his chin at me. “Don’t act like you didn’t dish this shit out when it was us sittin’ where you are.”
I let out a long breath, and actually rub my hand over my chest as if that’ll stop the aching from the hole that I know will never again be filled. “Sorry about that.”
“What the fuck are you doin’?” Crash asks, a pissy tone in his voice. “You gonna just sit there?”
I glance up at him, wondering what the fuck he means.
“Man up and ask her, bro,” he snaps, pointing a finger toward the door.
Wolf looks at the clock behind the bar. “What time’s her flight leave?”
“Four.”
“You got time. She’s probably still in the TSA line. You hurry, you’ll catch her before she goes through security. ‘Cause, that happens, you’re fucked.”
“Just call her for Christ’s sake,” Crash growls.
I stare at him a moment, paralyzed by the thought of what to say.
“Dude. Come on. If you ain’t got the balls, I’m ashamed to call you brother.”
I pull out my phone and call her, no clue what to say, except one word. Stay. It rings and goes to voicemail. I disconnect, not wanting to put it in a damn message. How pathetic would that be?
“She didn’t answer?” Crash asks.
I shake my head.
“Fuck, Green, just haul your ass over there. It’s not that far,” Wolf snaps.
I nod and push away from the bar. They follow me outside and watch as I swing my leg over my bike and fire it up. I spit gravel as I peel out, their laughter following after me.
I roar up the street and through an intersection. I’ve got the right of way and the cross street has a stop sign. I barely see the blur of something in the corner of my eyes when I’m broadsided by a pickup truck. I fly up over the hood and roof. The last thing I see is that black pavement coming at me.
18
Sara
I’m waiting at the gate, thinking about Irish.
My heart aches, and I miss him already. This weekend reminded me of all the reasons we clicked so well in high school. All those feelings are still there: the companionship, the deep friendship, the attraction, maybe even stronger than before because we’re both older now and life has taught us each lessons. I realize more than ever how precious those feelings are. They don’t come along every day. Finding someone that is truly your soul mate is rare. I’ve never found it with anyone else and I realize the chances of me doing so are one in a million.
It’s a depressing thought that takes me deeper into that dark place I’ve fallen.
Part of me refuses to give up the last shred of hope I still cling to with both hands, like a woman hanging off a cliff, clinging to that one scraggly sapling and praying it holds.
I wonder if there’s a chance I misread his feelings. Perhaps he wants to maintain this relationship as much as I do. Perhaps he’s just scared. And isn’t that what’s holding me back from just bringing it out in the open and talking about it? Perhaps I shouldn’t assume I know what he’s thinking or feeling. Maybe I just need to straight out ask him.
Have courage, Sara, and be a badass! Take control of your own destiny! The pep talk I give myself bolsters me enough to pull my phone out and decide to call him. Right now, before another minute passes, and I lose that courage.
Glancing down at my screen, I see I have a missed call from him that must have come in while my phone was in the bin in the security check. I look, but there’s no voice message. I call back but it goes straight to voicemail.
The gate attendant makes an announcement. “Travelers on Sun Air flight #4454 to Los Angeles it has been delayed two hours due to fog at its origination point in Denver.”
Groans fill the air in the seats around me.
Two hours. That gives me some time. I contemplate going back to ask Irish the question burning in my brain; if I stay, is that what he wants? I stand, grabbing my carryon, and only take a step before I hear another page come over the intercom.
“Sara Winston, please find a courtesy phone. Sara Winston, please find a courtesy phone.”
I ask the gate attendant where I can find one.
“Just there, ma’am.” He points out a phone in the corridor.
I grab my bag and roll it behind me, wondering what this could be about. Perhaps it’s Janis with another emergency from the film set.
I reach the courtesy phone and put it to my ear. “Hello? This is Sara Winston.”
“Miss Winston. You had an emergency call asking you to call back at this number. Are you ready to take it down?”
I frown. “Did they say who was calling?”
“A Mr. Cole Austin, ma’am. He said it was urgent you call back before boarding your flight.”
I press the receiver to my chest wondering what this could mean. A chill moves through my body and the hair on my arms stands up.
19
Green
My eyes flutter open, and I look around. I’m in a hospital room. Vague, hazy flashes of memory flip through my mind. I remember being asked if I know my blood type. Another of being rushed down a hall as lights flash past overhead. I remember coming awake briefly in the recovery area, seeing a nurse over by a desk, and a clock on the wall. I remember each time I woke, trying to focus in on the time before I fell back asleep, trying to see how much time was passing, but I could never remember what the time had been the last time I woke up.
I don’t remember how I got up to this room or how long I’ve been here. It’s dark outside, but I can’t see a clock.
I glance down. My leg is bandaged, a special f
ilm covers a section that looks like raw meat from severe road rash, my left arm is in a brace, and two fingers are splinted. I wiggle my toes and fall back to stare at the ceiling, and thank God I’m not paralyzed. I’m alive and breathing on my own, two very good signs. I turn my head, thankful that I’m able to do that. My good arm has an IV, but I’m able to reach up and touch my face, checking my jaw and head.
Overall, I’m damn lucky I’m not in a coma on a respirator or paralyzed.
The door opens and I turn my head.
Cole comes in.
“‘Bout time you woke up. How you feeling, brother?”
“Like I got run over.”
“Damn close. Wolf said you were thrown ten feet in the air when the pickup hit you. Saw it from the clubhouse parking lot. You didn’t make it half a block.”
“Fuck.”
“Everybody scrambled, racing to get to you. Crash put a tourniquet on your leg. You broke your femur, and blood was gushing from the bone jabbing through your jeans. He wrapped it with a bungee cord until the paramedics got to you.
“What’s wrong with my arm?”
“Separated shoulder. Doctors said you were damn lucky. Guess that figures, you and your damn Irish luck paid off this time.”
“Yeah, feels like it.” I joke darkly.
“You in a lot of pain?”
“Not at the moment.” I glance up at the two IV bags piggybacked into one tube. “I’m guessing they’ve got me on something good.”
“Probably.”
“How’s my bike?”
“Fucked up, but I’ve already got it in the shop. We’ll get it fixed.”
“Thanks.”
“No thanks necessary, Green.”
“When do I get out of here?”
“Gonna be a couple days, brother. Your leg is fucked up pretty bad.”
“Am I gonna be able to ride?”
“They didn’t say. First, we’ve got to get you walkin’ again.”
I glare over at him. “I’m not ridin’ a damn trike, Cole.”
“You’ll ride it if that’s all you can. That or you turn in your patch. You know the rules.”
“Two wheels or nothing. I’m not gonna be some grandpa.”
“Will you shut up about the bike?”
“Why? So I can get depressed about Sara leaving? What time is it anyway? How long have I been here?”
“It’s almost dawn. You were in surgery for hours last night.”
My head falls back on the pillow. “Guess she got on that plane. Must be back in LA by now.” I lift my head. “Where’s my phone? I need to call her.”
“You’re phone’s toast, dude. It’s in pieces back on the pavement. I think Wolf scooped it up for you, but you’ll need to get a new one. Upside, I hear the latest iPhone is awesome. Got a fantastic camera in it.”
“Would you shut up about how awesome the new iPhone is? I had Sara’s number in my old phone.”
“Heard you were letting her go.”
“I changed my mind. That’s where I was headed—to the airport to stop her.”
“So she’s the one?”
“Yeah, she’s it for me, Cole. Never felt like this about any other woman. She was it for me in high school. I asked her to stay then, but she left anyway. I know now that was a selfish thing for me to do. It was best for her to leave back then. It was the right move for her future. I had to let her go.”
“And now? Did you tell her how you feel before she left?”
“Not exactly.”
“Why not?”
“I was fucking scared—scared I’d lay my heart out, and she’d leave again anyway.”
“So, you didn’t say shit, and surprise, she got on the plane.”
“Don’t fucking twist the knife, VP.”
He rocks back on his heels, his arms folded. “Maybe you deserve it, bein’ a chickenshit and all.”
I huff out a breath and drop my head to stare at the ceiling. “Maybe so.”
“So, now are you gonna man up, and tell her how you feel?”
“If she’ll listen.”
“What are you gonna say?”
“I don’t know. Tell her I love her. Tell her I’m an idiot for not begging her to stay. Ask her to come back.”
“Think she’ll listen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out.”
20
Green
I lift my head, frowning. “What?” Cole is moving toward the door. “Where are you goin’?”
He opens it. “You hear all that?”
I don’t hear a reply but he jerks his head, motioning someone inside, and I wonder if my brothers are all out in the hall, laughing their asses off at me. Someone ducks under his arm, and Sara steps into the room. My heart skips a beat. I know it does, because the monitor beeps, its little line jumping and then settling back into rhythm.
My mouth falls open as I stare at her, hardly believing what I’m seeing. Her eyes are glazed with unshed tears, but she’s smiling.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Cole steps out the door, giving us some privacy.
Sara moves toward the bed and smiles down at me.
“You didn’t get on the plane?” I ask like an idiot because she’s standing right in front of me.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because, you big dope, I belong here with you.” Her eyes move over my injuries. “You could have been killed.”
“I’m okay. I’ve wrecked before.”
“I’ve been sick with worry.”
“About me?”
“Yes, about you, silly. I love you, Irish, but if you ever drink and ride again, we’re done.”
“Done? We haven’t even gotten started.” Right now I’d agree to any terms she throws down. Hell, I’d give up drinking altogether.
“I don’t ever want to see you like this again, all broken, and . . .”
Her voice trails off with a sob.
“Baby girl, don’t cry. I’m okay.”
“Your poor leg. You almost bled to death in the street.”
I reach up with my good hand and cup her face, tubes dangling. “I promise you, I’ll be okay. I’m just happy you’re here. Tell me you’re staying for good. I don’t want to think about a future without you in it.”
“I’m staying.”
“What about your job?”
“I told Ethan he could keep the designs I’ve already finished, and I told him I had a family emergency and wouldn’t be back. My team is capable of finishing the picture, if not, I really don’t care.”
“But, babe, you love designing.”
“There’s an opening at the San Francisco Opera House for a resident designer. They offered it to me last week. I told them I’d give them an answer this week. So, if you want me to stay, I’ll call and take it.”
“I want you, girl. I love you, Sara. You’re my heart and soul. My everything.”
I pull her down until her mouth meets mine. Her lips are soft, but she pulls back.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
I guide her back again. “Don’t make me use my bad arm.”
She grins and dips her mouth to mine, then stares into my eyes. “I love you, Irish. I always have.”
“Not lettin’ you go again, so you better mean forever this time.”
“Forever, baby, you and me.”
I grin. “If I’d have known all it took was wrecking my bike to get you to stay, I’d have done it so much sooner.”
She slugs my good arm. “Don’t even think about ever wrecking again, mister, or this deal is off.”
“That what we have, Sara—is this a deal?”
“We always had a deal. We were destined to be together.”
I chuckle. “Just took us a helluva long time to get here, woman.”
“It may have been the roundabout way, but maybe we needed to grow into the people we are, to be ready to have this
life together.”
“I’m gonna make it a good life for us, baby. I promise. Gonna do everything in my power to make you happy.”
She taps my nose. “Gonna hold you to that promise.”
“Good thing I’ve got a record of keepin’ my promises to you.”
“That you do, sweetheart.”
Epilogue
Green
Sunrise, One year later
We stand at an overlook on the coast near the arches. I’m holding Sara’s hands and she’s facing me. She’s dressed in a beautiful flowing gown that flutters in the breeze, little flowers woven into her hair.
Our eyes are locked on each other, and I can’t help but grin as I look at her. It seems like it’s taken forever for us to get here. But through months of rehabilitation when I cursed, and bitched, and swore it wasn’t worth the pain, she stood by me.
I’m standing on my own two feet and finally walking with barely a limp.
I squeeze her hand and she winks at me.
The minister finally gets to the good part.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You, sir, may kiss your bride.”
I pull her to me and take her face in my hands, capturing her mouth with mine.
A resounding cheer breaks out from all my brothers and their ol’ ladies, who are gathered around us.
I wrap my arms around Sara’s waist and bend back, lifting her up, and her legs swing out.
And that’s the picture of us that Angel captures. The one that’s now framed and hanging over our bed—
Sara and I, our eyes locked, laughing with happiness.
Nicole James website
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Sons of Gods MC #1
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