by Eve R. Hart
If I did know one thing, it was that eventually, the time was going to come. I didn’t avoid things and I wasn’t one of those people that hid their feelings because someone else might not like it or feel the same way. If you wanted to figure things out, then you had to lay it all down.
That wasn’t to say that I was an overly emotional person. I didn’t need to say how much I liked, or loved, someone over and over again. I wasn’t one to constantly tell you that I missed you and all that stuff. I would say it when it was there, hanging in my face. Or maybe even when I felt it needed to be heard.
It wasn’t an easy thing to open up and let someone see all the little parts of you. It wasn’t easy facing something that might not ever get to be. But it had to be done.
Okay, fine. I had a pretty good idea that Lake and I were on the same page here. Now fate was just fucking with us by not giving us the time to figure things out.
And even now, as he called me first thing on Christmas morning, I had a feeling that we wouldn’t be able to have a long conversation. I couldn’t remember the last time we talked for longer than twenty minutes at a time.
I would take what I could get and bide my time. He was worth it and my heart agreed.
Maybe I had a tiny spark of hope that he’d show up at my door this morning and that the gift he sent me wouldn’t be the only one that I received this year.
In my head, it played out like some horrible, low budget women’s channel movie.
He would show up and I’d look at the closed door like I didn’t have the first clue who was knocking. I’d answer with an overly shocked expression on my face and he’d be standing there wearing a stupid Santa hat. One of those ones with the mistletoe on it, because, you know.
That would be the moment you would wonder if it was going to turn into a porno. But that would come later.
So, yeah, he’d be there and he’d wish me Merry Christmas in person. And that would be the beginning of it all or some shit.
Clearly, I needed more coffee and my mind was drifting again.
“Did you open it?” he asked pulling me out of my movie fantasy.
“No,” I said narrowing my eyes at him playfully. “Unlike some people, I wait to open my Christmas gift on the designated day.”
“You think you’re funny.”
“Don’t think. Know.” I flashed him a smug smile.
“Open it,” he said quickly like an excited kid on, well, Christmas morning. How appropriate, right?
He was so adorable. I really loved that about him.
I wasn’t even going to talk about how my perfect imaginary boyfriend— who hadn’t been around in a while, just to let you know— was nothing like Lake. And maybe that was what made Lake so perfect for me.
“Okay, okay. Don’t have a cow, dude.”
I retrieved the package that I had gotten a few days ago. I had opened the shipping box, but once I saw the shiny silver paper with little nutcrackers all over it, I stopped. I had been a good girl. That wasn’t to say that I kept looking at it and picking it up. I was afraid to shake it in case it was breakable. Normally, I would have given it a few firm gropes, but whatever it was happened to be inside of another box.
Yeah, he sent me a box inside of a box. I just hoped that there wasn’t another box in there because that would just have to be it.
So basically, I had no clue what was underneath that wrapping paper.
Teasingly, I slid my finger under the tape that held the seam together in the back. My eyes on the screen and a smile twitched on my lips as I watched him bounce with excitement. Or nervousness, I wasn’t sure.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Yep,” I replied popping the P.
“You hate me.”
“No, I don’t. I lo-like you very much, actually.”
Oh, wow. Did I almost say I loved him?
Yeah, I did and that maybe freaked me out a little. Not because I didn’t think it was real, even though I would have said it jokingly then. As I was hit with the huge realization that I did love the cute, awkward, and sexy man, I began to tear at the paper in hopes of creating a distraction. My eyes were now downcast, focused on the gift that I was clueless about taking up my entire lap. I couldn’t look up and I was praying like hell that he didn’t notice my slip up.
I pulled the flaps of the box back once I had the wrapping paper free and now scattered in pieces all over my bed.
“Tissue paper, really? You’re killin’ me, dude. I just want to know what it is.” I laughed as I dug around, pushing the crumpled, thin paper to the side as much as possible.
My fingers brushed up against something cold and hard.
Then I pulled out a helmet.
A black helmet with a dark purple rose— stem and thorns and all— on the side.
I was speechless.
“Beautiful, sweet, and a little bit prickly,” he said a little too tenderly to be talking about the design on the helmet.
“Lake,” I said with a sigh. “You know this is a helmet, right?”
“Yeah.” He looked at me like I was the crazy one.
“For a motorcycle.”
“Of course.”
“Lake, you know that I don’t even own a motorcycle, right? And I’ve only ever been on one once before.”
He looked away from the camera almost like he was second-guessing his gift. Which wasn’t what I wanted.
“You know this is a weird-ass gift, right?”
“Yeah, I just—”
“I really fucking love it!” I screamed with way too much excitement. And not the fake kind.
He smiled and I saw his body visibly relax.
“I just thought that one day, maybe, you’d be on the back of my bike again.”
He didn’t ask.
He didn’t give any kind of time to when he wanted this to happen.
He simply dropped a big hint and left it dangling out there.
This helmet was more than something to protect my head. It was a hint at something more. At something that could be.
At the possibility that we would see each other again.
And I came to love it even more.
I realized that once it was out there, that there was another road I could take for my future— even if I chose not to take it. That the world was wide open and just about anything could be tangible.
“I’d like that,” I said feeling like I was speaking the words straight from my soul.
“Me too.”
There was a long beat where we got lost in one another and I hated that he wasn’t right here for me to touch.
“Oh!” he said shaking himself out of his daze. “I got you something else. Sort of. Kinda. Here, just look.”
He tilted his phone up a little.
There on the wall above his boring, wooden headboard, was a painting. It wasn’t huge but it fit perfectly over his bed.
“Is that a painting of a bridge over a lake?” I said squinting to try to make out the details on my small screen.
“No, it’s a Lake under a Bridge.”
“Oh my fucking God!” I said as I busted out laughing. “No. No, you didn’t…”
“Yeah, I did. Had Cami paint it for you.”
“Holy shit! She did that? Wow, that’s fucking awesome.”
I couldn’t believe that he remembered that awkward comment. It was so bad and my cheeks may have been a little red from embarrassment as I remembered it.
“So, if that gift is for me, how come it’s hanging on your wall over your bed?”
“Because I was afraid that if I mailed it to you something would happen to it.”
“Still doesn’t explain why it’s hanging on the wall.”
“For safety purposes. Duh.”
“You totally whacked off looking at it didn’t you?”
Now it was his turn to go bright red.
“Oh, shit. You did?!”
“Only because it reminded me of you and well, thinking of you usually
does things…”
“Gives you a boner. You can say it, Lake. You’re a big boy now.”
He rolled his eyes at me and I couldn’t stop laughing for a good long minute.
“Thank you,” I said after I calmed down. “This means more than I can say.”
A wave of sadness washed over me. The kind that I had been trying to avoid thinking about for weeks now.
While this wasn’t my first Christmas without my dad, it was the first that it really hit me. The last one had gone by in a blur and I didn’t even remember it. I had been numb then. And it was all I could do to get through everything and plan a funeral at the same time. By the time Christmas came around a week later, I was still in shock and didn’t have the first clue what day it was.
I got one last Thanksgiving with him and then he was gone.
The doctors said he had six months by the time I finally dragged his ass to the hospital.
We got three and a half.
Six months wasn’t nearly long enough, but three and a half was worse because it came unexpectedly.
“Hey, look at me,” he said softly and I hadn’t realized that I had drifted off into my head. “Tell me about your holidays. What did you and your dad do?”
And so I did. I let all the memories in even though it hurt a little. But talking about them almost felt like I was keeping a part of my dad alive.
“Every year we would make homemade ornaments for the tree. They were never good, even when I was older. You should see the ones we made three years ago. Those were the worst. And that’s saying something because one year I literally balled up a piece of paper, covered it in glue, dropped it in glitter, then looped a piece of yarn through it so it would hang.”
He laughed and smiled as I went on.
I told him about the movies we would watch every year.
About the cookies we would bake, which were not homemade in any kind of way. We’d get one of those logs of premade sugar cookie dough in the refrigerated section and then cut them with a knife. We didn’t even try to make any kind of shapes at all. And somehow every year half of them would end up slightly overcooked. As in, they were black. But we ate them with a huge glass of milk while we sat on the couch watching those movies.
Then Lake told me how the girls got a crazy idea the night before— yes, on Christmas Eve— and made the guys put up a tree in the corner of the bar at the compound.
“There was that fake snow shit. I’m talking about the kind that is more like big flecks of glitter. That stuff is a nightmare,” he said looking a little miffed. “And then Sketch decided it would be a good idea to start a fake snow fight. So it got everywhere. I probably still have some in places I don’t want to think about.”
I smiled thinking that I wished I had been there. I didn’t say that out loud but it was becoming more clear to me that this place was maybe no longer my home. That I belonged somewhere else. And maybe I was the only one holding myself back and finding every reason to anchor myself to a city that held nothing for me anymore.
We talked for close to two hours and it didn’t even feel like it. I was surprised and somehow so lost in conversation that I didn’t even think to have the big talk.
Eventually, he had to go because Brand and Chris were banging on his door yelling about how it was time to open up presents and that Cami and Laurel weren’t going to wait any longer.
I couldn’t even be mad.
Maybe a little sad that I wasn’t there but that was all my fault. I truly believed that.
“I miss you,” he said right before he got off. His tone was straightforward like he wanted me to know that he really did. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
I gave a quick goodbye then disconnected because I was suddenly choked up.
Then, strangely, I started packing.
And not the I’m taking off for a few days kind.
So I hadn’t talked to him about what we could be or even what we were right now. That had never really been said. On the outside, it almost seemed like we were doing the long distance relationship thing. But since it hadn’t been voiced out loud, I wasn’t all that sure. I knew I wasn’t seeing or sleeping with anyone else. I also had a pretty good feeling he wasn’t either. I got the sense that he was in this just as much as I was.
Then I started to wonder if maybe I could be crazy and seeing things that I wanted to see. Hoping because I wanted it so much.
Well, there was only one way to figure it out, right?
If it didn’t work out, well, I thought that would be okay too.
Sure, I’d be a little heartbroken but I’d move on. Maybe. Whatever.
The point was, if that wasn’t the destination I was destined to head in, then I would find another.
And another.
And another.
Until I found somewhere that felt like home.
Some new place that sang to my soul.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lake
I couldn’t even begin to tell you how tense things were for the club. There were brothers everywhere. Rotating in and out every few days and coming in from every chapter. We were crowded and sharing rooms. Ones that hadn’t been completed yet were utilized. We simply got a bunch of air mattresses and heaters that were powered by running a shit ton of extension cords all over the place.
It was a fucking mess, to say the least.
And as it neared the new year, we still hadn’t tracked down Keften.
I missed Bridget like crazy and I was surprised that I’d been able to talk to her as long as I had on Christmas. And that day had been odd as hell. Because when there was chaos all around, the heart of the club— the significant others and family— banded together to help keep the club strong.
It meant that Abigail, Gwen, and Chris were in the kitchen making all kinds of shit that tasted good. It meant that Laurel and Cami were dragging everyone down to the kitchen for a special holiday breakfast. It meant that they took no lip when it was time to open the gifts that were under the tree. A tree that they made us all pitch in and help set up.
And they were also the ones that made sure that everyone there, no matter what chapter they were from, had at least one gift under the tree.
You want to see a bunch of badass bikers get teary eyed?
Then give them a holiday like no other.
Seriously, most of us were sniffling and blinking away the moisture from our eyes at some point.
It was nice to forget for just a moment.
To stop and look around and see the love that you had surrounding you.
Some days I took it for granted, I think. Or maybe it was more that I didn’t see it because it was there every day. It was there in the way that Cami always smiled at me when she came into the room. And the way that Abigail and Gwen were always making sure that we had food in our bellies. How Laurel always tried to make conversation whenever I was around.
And Chris, well he was my dude-bro. Sure, we weren’t as close as he and Brand were, but he was still someone that I considered family. Maybe even more so than my club, which was saying something.
But all too fast, it was over.
And reality hit hard again.
I hadn’t had much time to talk to Bridget after that.
Hell, I had only seen Mr. Watkins once in like two weeks. Which I hated. But he told me he understood.
Still, it made me feel shitty and I couldn’t wait until this whole thing was over.
Only, I didn’t think it would be anytime soon.
Each passing day, I felt like we were getting closer to finding Keften, but only a little. We weren’t going to give up, that was for damn sure.
“Got a minute?” I asked Iron after knocking on his office door.
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
He looked as tired as I felt.
I had decided it was time and I just couldn’t hold off any longer, danger be damned.
“I need to take a couple of days, if that’s alright?” I asked and tr
ied my hardest not to cringe at the request.
“I think that’s fair. You’ve been busting your ass. And I appreciate it.”
“I just want to get that fucker.”
“I agree.” His head bobbed with a slow nod. “Heading to Florida?”
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew me that well but I was, and it showed on my face.
“Yeah, you are,” he said with a laugh. And it was good to hear that sound come from him at a time like this. “I’m happy for you, Lake.”
“Well, don’t say that too early. I don’t know if she’s going to come back with me.”
He laughed again.
“I’ll see you when you get back.” He gave me a tiny smile and I knew I was dismissed.
It was a hell of a ride. Over ten hours in holiday traffic. It didn’t help that I was pretty much dead on my feet even before I sat my ass on my bike.
And then I was there, knocking out an odd little jingle against her door with my knuckles.
As the door flew open and Bridget stood there— looking less surprised than I imagined she would have looked— I wished that I’d thought of something clever to say.
Instead, I stood there with my mouth open and no sound coming out, looking like a huge dumbass.
Her lips parted slightly and she looked at me with this little twinkle in her eyes.
“You’re waiting for it, aren’t you?” I asked feeling a little disappointed in myself.
“Yeah, come on. Give it to me.”
“I… have nothing. I’m sorry.”
Her face dropped and I laughed.
“You were supposed to have some clever line,” she said shaking her head. “Or at least show up wearing something cute. Oh, and you’re about a week too late.”
“What?! How am I late?”
“You were supposed to show up for Christmas.”
“And let me guess, in your head, I was wearing… a Santa outfit and holding a sprig of mistletoe above my head when you answered the door.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Close,” she said regaining her cool. Maybe we thought too much alike sometimes, or it could have been that I knew her that well. “Just the Santa hat with the mistletoe dangling from the front.”
