Текст книги "Burning Ember"

Автор книги: Darby Briar

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

The cost of freedom comes in many different forms.

EMBER

I was fighting more than Luce in that ring. My frustrations with life have been mounting for a while with all of the people and decisions that have brought me to this point. It was only a matter of time before they came rushing out.

I’m twenty-two years old and I have never once lived a day the way I want to live it. At least, not that I can remember. My life has been a series of obstacles. People and things that needed my attention. For more years than I care to count, I’ve put other people’s needs before my own.

First, it was working to help my mom pay the bills. When she disappeared on us, I had to work day and night to keep a roof over our heads, not to mention food in the cupboards.

Sundown, left to her own devices, got pregnant at fifteen. She couldn’t hold down a job, and she didn’t know how to care for a baby—nor did she want to—so for nearly four years, I provided and cared for Will.

I became her mother.

My sister popped in and out of our lives. Partly my fault, I should have put my foot down with her early on. But how could I? Our mother sold her prettiest daughter for money. My sister had a justifiable reason for being fearful and restless. She hated staying in the home she was victimized in, but moving wasn’t a luxury we could afford.

I sympathized with her. I didn’t blame her for needing to nullify the pain and dull the memories with men and alcohol. I just hated that it came as a detriment to Will and me.

When she finally hit rock bottom, she showed up at the door half-dead, beaten black and blue, and twenty pounds under weight. She never told me what happened, but afterward she decided to get clean and stay that way. At first, she’d been just another mouth to feed, but to my surprise, she started waitressing part time and let me help her apply for state assistance.

That’s when I met Warner. He was attending a conference in the hotel where I worked. He went out of his way to run into me and strike up a conversation.

I fell . . . hook . . . line . . . and sinker for his heavenly blue eyes and sweet all-American boy charm. How could I not? He doted on me, brought me flowers, and took me to the nicest restaurants. He paid my bills, gave me extra money to spend not only on myself, but also on Will and Sunny. I did things with Warner that I’d only dreamed of. For the first time in my life, I had pretty dresses and nice shoes. Sunglasses. I had never owned a pair of sunglasses before. They were a want, not a need, and I’d only had money for needs.

After four months of dating, Warner asked me to move in with him. He slowly but surely convinced me that Sunny would never fulfill her rightful role as Will’s mom until I stepped out of her way. He said I was keeping them from having a real mother and daughter relationship, and Will needed her mother. A small part of me had been thinking the same thing for a long time, and his comments made me feel guilty and selfish until I finally conceded.

What I didn’t realize at the time, was that by persuading me to move away from them, he was starting to distance me from everyone in my life.

And moving away from Will was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. The only exception is living every day like I do now, without seeing her face or hearing her voice. Not only because it felt as if I had ripped out my heart and handed it over to my unreliable sister to care for, but because the anxiety I experienced was insurmountable. What if Sunny decided she wasn’t ready to be a mom again? What if she started drinking again? What if she brought men over?

I worried constantly.

To the point that it affected my relationship with Warner and my job performance. Warner said I should just quit working. If you’re going to cook and clean for anyone, it might as well be me. I had no problem with that. Then he told me to stop calling Sundown so much to check in, she was fine. I needed to give her and Will some space to bond, give Sunny some room to make mistakes and learn from them.

Then more little nudges came. He didn’t want me driving at night. He was worried when I drove at all. The new maid could pick up anything I needed.

The little things though started to pile up, and eventually, I realized I was losing control and handing it all over to him. With each day, I grew more and more scared of what new liberty he’d take away next.

Sexually, at first, he took our relationship slow. I wasn’t totally inexperienced, but I was still a virgin, and since I had waited twenty-one years for the right man to come along, I was both nervous and terrified of having sex. He relieved my fears early on by promising to wait until we were married.

Then for reasons I can’t explain, he grew impatient and angry with me. He grabbed me often and his soft touches turned hard. His kisses became hungry, his hands began to wander, and all the softer parts of him fell away. The charming and generous man I’d met disappeared.

One night, his promise to wait until marriage went up in smoke.

There was no romance. No tenderness. He took my virginity while I was face down on the kitchen floor, after the backhanded slap I had received, which had sent me there. The tile was white and the contrast of the blood from both the cut on my mouth and my broken hymen finally snapped me out of the daze. I kept telling myself it would get better. But as I cleaned the blood from the floor, I realized that was a lie. Things were only going to get worse.

The next day, he came home with flowers and apologized for getting carried away.

But over the next two weeks, he often got carried away. He also got paranoid. His bedroom became my prison, and a set of handcuffs took away the last bit of freedom I possessed.

I think partly it was about sex, but mostly he wanted me scared. He got off on my pain and the fact that I was powerless against him.

When I finally managed to escape the handcuffs, I tried to make it look like I’d died in that fire. I had to do something to buy me some time. Time to get as far away from him as possible. I also wanted that damn house, and all the memories of what I survived within its walls, to burn to the ground.

Before jumping on a bus, I called Sundown from a payphone and told her everything. She assured me they were okay and the money I’d given them plus the money she received from the state would get them by for a few months. That relieved some of my fears. Sunny also swore to me that she’d take care of Will, and then told me to call as soon as I got somewhere safe.

Looking down at the phone in my hands, courtesy of Mav who just dropped me off to a sweet and welcoming Bethany, I stall to make the phone call I’ve wanted to make for over a month.

Moisture drips from my jaw as countless tears trail down my face. This time, I don’t force them back. I let them come. I need to get them out. Because I won’t waste my time on the phone with Will crying. Not. One. Second. When I get the chance to talk to her, I want to do just that. Talk to my baby girl, hear all about her new school and her new friends, and somehow make her understand that I’m not in her life, not because I don’t want to be, but because for right now . . . I have to be.

Sometimes the hope for a better tomorrow is all we have to cling to.

EMBER

My eyes are glued to the road and the yellow line in the center as it disappears from sight.

“It’s not going anywhere.” Bethany’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?”

With one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched, she looks over at me. Her honey blonde hair is swept up in a messy bun. She has flawless skin and doesn’t look old enough to have a teenage son. She’s slender, taller than I am, and has pale green eyes that are somehow both striking and calming. My immediate thought upon meeting her was Dozer’s an idiot. Why is he wasting his time with me when he has a history with someone like her? She’s not only nice, she’s genuine, and extremely beautiful. She seems to appreciate the simpler things in life like comfortable clothing, the ice tea we’re drinking in cheap, neon, plastic cups, and the wicker chairs we’re sitting in on her front porch.

Her home is a simple rambler¸ but cozy, and has the feel of love in every room.

She gestures to the right. “You’ve been staring at the road for a while now.”

I have. I’m wondering if I should walk down it and jump on the nearest bus or stay exactly right where I am. A decision I have yet to make.

“Just thinking.”

“About Mav?” she asks.

“Among other things.”

Mav didn’t hide his interest in me when he dropped me off. In fact, he did the opposite.

He faces me on Bethany’s porch, seemingly hesitant to say goodbye, wearing a charcoal-gray Punisher T-shirt under his cut, faded jeans, and all of his biker gear—a flashy belt buckle, knife strapped to his side, and a chain that circles around to his wallet—the very image of what mothers around the world warn their girls about.

He took a shower before we left the clubhouse, and the scent of his soap mixed with his cologne makes it impossible to think clearly. I nearly lost all sense of right and wrong on the drive over. If it wasn’t for my seat belt and the resentment I feel for how he sought the answers he thought he needed about my past, I probably would have crawled across the truck cab and into his lap.

Hell, it’s all I can do not to grab on to his jacket and pull him closer to me.

After reaching into his pocket, he pulls out cash held together by a money clip. My eyes fall on the initials JMG, engraved on the silver clip as he separates a few bills. To Bethany, who’s behind me, he says, “Take her shoppin’. She needs to buy some clothes of her own. Just don’t let Lily pick them out.”

He forces money into my hand a second later, and I quickly scan it to see he’s placed over seven hundred dollars in the palm of my hand.

Thoughts of how Warner spoiled me and how he lured me in with money circles through my mind. Gritting my teeth, I say, “Mav, I don’t want your money.” I try to give it back, but he closes his hand over mine.

“It’s not my money. You earned it cleanin’ and cookin’ for the club. It’s yours.”

Out of his other pocket, he pulls out a phone and hands it to me too. “My number’s already programmed in. But use it to call whoever you want.”

I eye him suspiciously. Damn him. He knows that giving me back some of the freedoms he’s taken will have me softening toward him. And it does. When he’s like this, I find it hard to remember all he’s done to make me hate him.

His knuckles brush against my cheek drawing my eyes back up to his face. “I’ll be back in three days. If you need to go, I’ll understand. But I’m prayin’ to God you’ll give me a little more time, and that I’ll get to see you again.” His eyes search mine. “I promise I’ll make this right, Doll.” Leaning forward he briefly touches his lips against my forehead and then dipping down, he sweeps his lips against mine. Only that doesn’t seem to satisfy him, because the kiss deepens. He caresses my mouth tenderly, like he’s memorizing how our lips feel as they work against one another. The kiss turns hot and heavy, so much so, that it has my heart racing. His hand slides behind my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, and I gasp as his other arm slips around my waist, and he yanks my body into his.

I get lost for a moment in the feel of him. His hands. His mouth. His body against mine. God this man can kiss. So much so, that it takes the strength from my legs.

When I come back to Earth, I have to unwind my arms from around him, because that’s where they are when he breaks the kiss and slowly draws away. My body and mind battle with the need to pull him back to me.

“Take care of yourself, and call if you need somethin’. I won’t be here, but Rigor is just down the road and he’s been ordered to get you anything you need. He’ll also be checkin’ in every day to make sure you’re okay.”

His eyes dip to my lips and I can see he wants to kiss me again, but after stroking my cheek one last time, he turns and strolls to his truck.

His confident swagger and the colors of the club say so much about who he is on the outside. But as he grabs the door handle and turns to look up at me, I get another glimpse of the other side of him. He wants to change. There’s hope in his gaze for something new, and regret for what he’s done. But can he, and will he, remain to be seen. In the next instant, he’s jumping into the truck and pulling away.

I realize I’m either going to have to stay and wait to see if he can change, or leave and maybe regret never knowing if he could have.

When the truck is no longer visible, I look over my shoulder at Bethany to find her watching me from her front door, trying and failing to hide her amusement.

Sitting beside me now, Bethany asks, “Lil’ thought maybe you’d want to help with Medda part time. Have you ever watched kids before?”

“I’ve been watching kids since I was ten.”

“Really, ten?”

“Yeah, we lived in an apartment building that had a ton of single moms. We were always scraping by to make rent, so my mom had me working to help out as soon as I could.”

“Wow.” After sipping from her drink she says, “I’m particular about who babysits for me, but Mav said you’re good with kids and I trust his and Lil’s judgment. But I have to warn you, sometimes, I can be a bit of a mama bear. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I also want what’s best for my kids.”

My chest aches in response. That’s exactly how I was with Will. “No. I get it. Just tell me your expectations and we’ll take it a day at a time. If I do something you don’t like, or if there’s something I’m not doing, just let me know.”

“Okay. That sounds good. Let’s relax tonight, and tomorrow over breakfast we’ll work out the details.”

“Thanks. And thank you for letting me stay here.”

She gives me a small smile. “It’s not a problem. I owe Mav a mountain of favors. I was happy to help.” Taking a drink, she turns back to the dimming sunset. “Can I ask you for something though?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you mind if while you’re here we completely ignore that big, giant elephant in the room, so to speak?”

The only giant I know is Dozer. “If that’s what you want,” I reply coolly.

“You’d be amazed at how talented I am at ignoring that mammoth. After fourteen years, I think I’ve perfected the art.”

“No problem.”

She reaches over and pats my arm. “Thank you.”

We sit in silence for a while, enjoying the peacefulness of her rural home. Bethany keeps checking her phone. She told me Axel’s out with friends, and I’m guessing by the concern wrinkling her brow that he was supposed to call or be home by now.

A few minutes later the baby monitor on the table between us lights up and we hear rustling and then a small whimper. Bethany grins and stands from her chair. “Time for you to meet Medda.”

She disappears into the house. When she comes back out, she has a toddler on her hip.

Immediately some of my worry and sadness from not being able to reach Sunny fades. Medda’s an angel. She has golden blonde curls, green eyes, and dimples. She’s sucking her thumb and staring at me. And I’m thinking she is exactly the kind of distraction I need from my problems.

Tilting my head, I say, “Hi, sweetie. Are you Medda?” She’s blinking the sleep from her eyes, and the corner of her mouth pulls up. “Your mommy says you’re almost three. Is that right?” She holds up her other hand and tries to hold up three fingers, but she ends up holding up four.

To Bethany, I say, “She’s beautiful.”

Bethany smiles a proud smile and brushes Medda’s curls away from her face. “She is, isn’t she? I kinda like her.” Hitching Medda up higher on her hip, she asks, “Can you say hi to Doll, baby?”

Mav introduced me as Doll. He paused for a moment before saying my nickname as if he hoped I’d supply my real one. When I didn’t, he told Bethany I go by Doll or Pumpkin. She didn’t bat an eyelash about the two names. Actually, she laughed and said, “Well, at least they’re better than Possum. I’ve always hated that name.”

Medda’s eyes spark at the word doll. She pulls her thumb from her mouth and starts to squirm in her mother’s arms until Bethany puts her down. Once on her feet, she walks into the house and comes out a minute later with a naked, blonde baby doll that’s been colored with what looks to be red and yellow marker. She holds it out to me. “Doll.”

I laugh. “That’s right. Doll.” I hold out my hands and she lets me take it. “Wow. She’s real pretty, and very colorful.”

Bethany chuckles. “I buy her washable markers, but those aren’t the ones she wants to play with.”

Medda tugs on my finger and pulls me down the front steps into the yard. She drags me all over the yard, showing me all of the flowers lining the house. She can point out the pink flowers and the blue ones, but gets the rest of the colors confused.

When we’re finished, we sit on the grass and she starts making the baby doll a blanket made from plucked grass. I catch on to what she’s doing and help.

The purr of a motor driving up the road has me glancing up, and Bethany coming down the front steps.

“Oh, good. She’s here.” At my questioning look, she explains, “Lil’ thought it would be fun to have a girl’s night. I have the kids, so we’ll have to stay here, but she’s bringing Chinese, wine, and a flick.”

The black beamer pulls into the driveway, gravel crunching under its tires. Lily rolls down her tinted window. “You girls better not be having too much fun without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bethany replies.

Wearing a skintight red skirt, black high heels, and tight black top that scarcely covers her assets, Lily exits her car.

Bethany whistles. “Wow. Look at you.”

“Well, seeing as I won’t see Goose for a couple of days, I wanted to remind him of what he’d be missin’ if he didn’t behave.”

We take everything into the house and Bethany shows me where the plates are so I can dish out the food while she feeds Medda. Lily changes in the bathroom. When she comes back out, she’s wearing yoga pants, a pink T-shirt, and her long hair is pulled into a ponytail.

Bethany broaches the topic I didn’t dare ask. “Are you worried about Goose stepping out?”

“No, but pussy . . .” Bethany’s eyes widen and Lily pauses. “Erm . . . cats . . . pussycats aren’t the only thing those boys tempt him with. I wanted to give him a little incentive to keep clean. You know how the guys get a little crazy on the runs especially when they’re staying with another MC.” Looking at me, she adds, “Other MCs don’t keep their nose and veins clean like the HOCs do. Actually, compared to some of the other MCs, our boys are saints. I worry about Goose when he’s gone, because one hit for him is a highway straight back to his addiction.” Shaking her head, she adds, “But I don’t want to ruin our girls’ night with worrying about Goose. After all, he’s gonna do what he’s gonna do.”

Her eyes brighten as if a thought just struck her. Lowering her voice to a brisk whisper, she says, “How about you tell me what the hell went down with Mav last night? I’ve heard everything from he stabbed you to he kicked you out when he caught you with . . . uhmmm . . .” Her gaze shifts to Bethany.

I glance up to see both women watching me. They wait for an explanation. “He thought I brought drugs into the clubhouse. I didn’t. I’ve never done drugs a day in my life. But Lita told him it was me and he was drunk. They caught the hang-around who was high, but no one bothered to tell Mav until after he attacked me.” I grimace because it sounds like I’m making an excuse for his behavior, which is something I did early on with Warner. “Nothing happened with . . . what’s his name.”

“So what’s goin’ on between you two anyway? There’s like some crazy chemistry . . .” Seeing Bethany sharply turn away, Lily clarifies, “Between you and Mav.”

“He kissed her,” Bethany breathes out.

“He what?” Lily gasps.

Bethany turns and there’s an apology written all over her face. “I’m sorry. It just came out.”

My cheeks grow warm.

Lily’s gaping at me. “He kissed you? Mav? Maverick Gunn kissed you?” My stomach does a summersault every time she says his name. Then she scowls. “He kissed you after he did that to your neck?”

Yeah, I was shocked at his one-eighty personality flip too. Then I saw the moment when clarity hit him. I witnessed the shock flash over his face when he realized what he’d done. I will never forget the remorse and pain in his eyes as the guys pulled him off me, or the sound of the beating he took. It was as if he knew he deserved it, and took his punishment willingly. A big part of me burns with this feeling that was the moment everything changed—for him—for me—but how do I explain it to Lily and Bethany.

“Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on. I haven’t even had time to wrap my own head around it.”

Both women look reluctant to let it drop.

Pointing the spoon in my hand at Lily, I say, “You don’t want to talk about Goose.” I swing it toward Bethany. “And you don’t want to talk about what’s his name, so how about we make this a guy talk free night? I’m not saying I won’t talk about it. Just not right now.”

Lily looks like she wants to argue. She opens her mouth to do so, but Bethany cuts her off by saying, “Yeah, for now. But I can’t promise I won’t bring it back up after the kids go to bed and we have a few drinks. I’m a motor mouth when I’m tipsy.”

Lily laughs. “She’s not lying. Her filter completely disappears when there’s alcohol. We’re so getting smashed later.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Bethany retorts.

As I dish out the food, I covertly watch Bethany with Medda. She’s one of those moms every child should have, patient, loving, playful, and affectionate.

I’d like to think I was the same way with Will. I worked six days a week but tried to be home in time to do our nightly routine. Bath by eight. In bed by nine. We’d read a book, no less than two times, then she’d be out by nine-thirty. Sundays were our days. It was the only day of the week I refused to work. I’d usually plan something special. If the weather was good, we’d go to the park or the beach. If it was cold or raining, we’d watch movies or do something creative indoors. Back then it was a struggle from day to day, and I was always stressed about bills and having money for food, but there were plenty of hugs and kisses and smiles and laughs to fill my days and make it all worth it.

“Mav wants us to take her shopping,” Bethany says. “Maybe Taffy would like to come too.”

“Oh, my God, yes!” Lily claps. “We can find you a dress for the party,” she says excitedly to me.

“Uhmmm. . . .” Bethany interjects. “Mav said not to let you pick out her new clothes.”

A frown transforms Lily’s face, “What? Why?”

Bethany shrugs. “I don’t know. Didn’t ask.”

Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t wear dresses anyway.” Dresses remind me of Warner and the thought of wearing one makes me feel itchy all over. Plus, Mav called me fake. Nothing would be more fake than putting on a sexy dress and trying to act comfortable and confident in it. It might sound odd, but I’d be more comfortable in a bikini than a dress. Growing up in the sand and the sun, I’m used to showing skin. Just for a different reason. Also, I don’t want to spend what money I have on something I won’t wear again in the future.

Still frowning, Lily says, “Well whatever, but something sexy. I wanna watch that man suffer. He’s been nothing but a dick to you since you got here, so we’re gonna make you look so good he’s gonna eat his heart out.”

I sigh.

“Sorry . . . sorry. I forgot. No talking about the guys.” She pulls her fingers over her lips and throws away the make-believe key.

We end up watching one movie. At ten, Lily goes to pick up Axel who finally called for a ride, and Bethany puts Medda to bed. I clean up dinner and the toys in the front room.

When Axel gets home, he reeks of pot. His light blue eyes aren’t red though and he swears up and down, he wasn’t the one smoking it, but Bethany’s livid. They face off against one another until finally Bethany ends it and sends him to bed with a warning that they’ll talk in the morning. As Axel passes by the kitchen, scowling and trailing the pungent scent that reminds me of home through the house, I take in his strong features. He has olive skin, a cleft chin, and prominent cheekbones. His hair is the same golden-blond as his mothers, and he has a lanky build, but broad shoulders he hasn’t yet grown into.

A few seconds later, the entire house rattles with the force he uses to slam his door.

I can’t help but think it’s sad that he has a mom who cares and he’s taking it for granted.

Lily’s pops the cork on the wine. She fills three wine glasses. Before she can finish pouring, Bethany marches in and snatches one from the table. She chugs it, and then holds it out for Lily to refill. Thrusting it toward us, she says, “To grandchildren. If it wasn’t for the promise of grandchildren, it’s quite possible we’d kill our teenagers.”

Lily laughs and raises her glass. “To friends and shopping trips to the mall.”

I raise my glass. “I just hope like hell tomorrow is a better day than today.”

We clink our glasses together and I take my first sip of wine I’ve had since leaving Warner. The tart liquid swirls over my tongue and slides down my throat. It’s bitter and probably not my drink of choice, but for my first girls’ night out since I turned twenty-one a year and fifteen days ago . . . it’s memorable.