Until you cross the bridge of your
insecurities, you can’t begin to
explore your possibilities.
- Tim Fargo
“I haven’t seen him yet.” I glance around again making sure Nightmare hasn’t suddenly appeared. The place is littered with men in leather cuts visiting with each other, but none resemble the man I remember.
“He was on a run this week; he’ll be rolling in soon with Chaos.”
“Who’s Chaos?”
“Another member.” Princess winks, being a smartass.
She failed to mention yesterday that he wasn’t even in town; it would’ve saved me a lot of immediate worrying. What if I’m spazzing out for nothing? He could show up and completely ignore me. It never crossed my mind before, but what if he shows up with another woman?
Holy shit, how could I not think of that? I’m not with anyone, so I automatically picture him with no one as well. I’m a freaking idiot. It’s been years; he could have his own wife!
No. He likes his freedom; he flat out told me that. He won’t be married—he can’t be.
Fuck.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, it was a gig.”
She knows what I’m thinking? I hope she can’t tell. “A what?”
“You know, a job. He still plays. One thing he didn’t give up over the time you’ve been away is his sticks.”
What the hell is she talking about? Sticks?
“What’s he play, exactly?”
“Wait, you don’t know?” Her eyebrows raise, and I shake my head. “He’s a drummer. All this time, I thought you knew that about him.”
“Nope, I had no clue. We don’t exactly talk about him, you know.”
“I’m sorry; I try not to bring him up to you. I don’t want to hurt you after the way he treated you and all.”
I nod. Not sure what else to say right now. I thought he was just a biker, but now that I’m here, I find out he’s not even a Nomad anymore. He’s a drummer, and I had no idea. I feel like I don’t know him at all. We fucked, and I fell. I didn’t need to know anything to want him and then let my heart get broken in the same breath.
“Are you okay?” My friend’s worried gaze meets mine.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Lies.
Brush it off, B.
“Maybe you should have a beer. I’m here. I’ll help keep an eye on Maverick; besides, he’s completely fine with London’s daughter. She won’t let anything happen to either one of them.”
“It’s kind of early; I was going to wait until later when we eat. I only have one beer if I have to drive somewhere.”
“Listen to you, all responsible. I’m so fucking proud of you, Bethany.”
“I have to be and thank you.”
“Well, if you want to drink, go ahead. We can always walk home if we need to or one of the Prospects can drive us. You’re safe here, try to relax and let yourself have a little bit of fun.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I know you can’t be the crazy girl you used to be, which is completely fine- I understand and admire you. But you can cut loose here; you know I’ll never let anything happen to you or Maverick.”
“Thank you.” I let a pent-up breath free.
I can have a beer now and then another later when we eat. I’ll be able to be momma and still function, but the alcohol will help calm my nerves a bit. No hard stuff, it’s been forever since I drank tequila and the last thing I want to do is pray to the porcelain god in the morning. That would be a train wreck, no doubt.
The sound of motorcycles arriving catches my attention as multiple loud exhausts rumble into the parking lot. Three bikes come to a stop, and I know who it is before he has a chance to climb off.
Exterminator swings his leg over, his back patch still reading Nomad. At least there’s one thing that hasn’t changed. Another man, a bit older comes to stand beside him, and I’m guessing that must be Chaos. He’s gorgeous, distinguished, I’d say mid-fifties and fit. Built like a football player with a look of pure trouble.
Then comes my demise; I can feel him, and he’s nowhere near me. My gaze finds powerful thighs, still the size of small tree trunks like I remember. Surprising, too, after the attack Princess had told me about. I figured they’d be skinny from the damage, hidden away by jeans, but that’s clearly not the case.
He turns around to grab something off his bike and the deep brown, shoulder length waves I loved running my fingers through are gone. In their place are long dreads, unruly but neat in a sense. And sure enough, a pair of drummer sticks stuck in one of his back pockets. How did I never notice them before?
His shirt sleeves are cut. Big gaping holes show off his arms that’ve only gotten larger with time. He’s a beast, and I missed that body something fierce. The only man I didn’t faze out when he took my body. I was present with him, I felt everything, I wanted everything.
“Shit,” Princess whispers beside me. “I wasn’t expecting them until a little later.”
I blow out another breath. “How about that beer now?” I ask, watching Night light up a cigarette. That hasn’t changed either. I can still smell him—leather, smoke, and spice with a touch of exhaust and wind mixed in. The guys chuckle beside him and his lips tip at the corners, always a broody bastard. Being that hot shouldn’t be allowed on an asshole.
“Good idea.”
One thing that didn’t escape my perusal is that he was alone on his bike. Just as I was hoping, too, whether I want to admit it or not.
“Come on.” She takes off toward a few large tubs filled with ice and various beverages. “We have some really good moonshine that we get from Alabama, wanna do a shot?”
“No, it’ll put me on my ass. Maybe later after I’ve eaten and absolutely no tequila.” She laughs, knowing tequila turns me into a hellion.
I check on Maverick as we walk, but he’s content surrounded by toys, a juice box, and a couple small kids. I’m glad he’s busy; it’ll wear him out for a nap later. At this rate, I’ll most likely need one, too; my nerves are fried already.
She cracks open a Smirnoff for herself and hands me a Bud Light. It’s cold and refreshing. I don’t miss drinking itself, just hanging out with friends and not caring about anything.
“We can set up the food. I’m sure everyone’s getting hungry by now.”
“Is this what you always do?”
“What? Set up the tables?”
“Yeah, just take care of everyone and help take care of the club?”
“Yeah, this is what an ol’ lady does, especially since Vike is the President. It puts more on me.”
“You like it?”
“I love it. I understand now why my mom was so lost when my dad started keeping her away from the club. They become your family, and this,” she waves around her, “becomes your whole life.”
“I know you’re involved with stuff, from the calls and your visits, but I didn’t know it was like this. It reminds me more of a reunion than a rowdy barbecue.”
“They have their moments, trust me. Today is a family event. They know it’s to celebrate me and Viking, so they’ll tone it down for me and the families visiting.”
I catch her wrist, so she pauses and meets my gaze. “I want you to know, I truly am happy for you. I always wanted you to find your place and be happy.”
Her grin’s a little shaky as she pulls me in for a hug, “Thanks, B. Hopefully, someday you have it too.”
“I hope so.” It leaves me on a whisper, but it’s true. It never hit me so hard as it has in this moment.
I want this.
Maybe not being a Prez’s ol’ lady, but the sense of family, of belonging, of purpose. I love being a mom, but I want Maverick to grow up surrounded by people who love him, not just a few, but many. I want him to have a family, people who love him that I never had.
A few bikers stand around in the kitchen, no doubt quietly speaking about business of some sort. They glance at us briefly as we unintentionally interrupt them.
“Hey, Torch, will you carry that potato salad for me?” Princess requests as she opens the fridge door and gestures to the top shelf.
“You got it, boss.” He grabs the massive plastic bowl that most likely weighs fifty pounds knowing Princess.
He’s new to me. She's told me about the guys, but I haven’t seen a lot of them before. Her description of him was right. He reminds me of the Terminator—menacing, but hot. Torch is supposed to be one of Viking’s oldest friends, and a biker around here called Blaze is supposed to be his cousin. I haven’t seen him yet, though.
“Thanks. Bethany, will you get the paper plates and forks?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grin, and she rolls her eyes.
They head out of the room, while I load up a plastic bag with a bunch of plates and utensils. She said forks, but may as well get everything; I know she’ll ask for it next. The other bikers in here ignore me, going back to their chat and I do my best to not overhear anything. The last thing I want is to be putting my nose in other people’s business.
Once the bag’s full, I make my way to the hall that leads out the club’s back door. I hate not having Maverick in my sight, but Princess says I can trust London. She’d never let either of us get hurt, so I believe her.
My heads in la-la land as I walk the long hall, not paying attention to the shadow in a passing doorway. The shadow sees me, however.
My wrist is snatched in a tight grip, my gaze flying to the source of strength.
“Bethany?” he utters deeply, and the air catches in my lungs. How could I not know he was standing there? Fuck. My pussy clenches from his voice alone.
He gazes at me, confused and a little surprised to see me. I’m guessing that I’m the last person he was expecting to be walking around their clubhouse.
“Ummm.” I begin to stutter, the word instantly making me think of Maverick. I know where he gets it from now. Shit.
“You’re here?” His voice swallows me whole, coating my body in tingles as his other hand finds my cheek. His palm’s rough and big, easily covering part of my face and jaw with warmth.
How does he expect me to speak when he’s touching me like this? I could barely say anything before when I didn’t hate him. And lack of words has never been an issue for me; if anything, it was always the opposite.
His touch is everything—caring and controlling—just the way I liked it before. The heat from his palm ignites my body in sensory overload. I want him to feel me everywhere, rub me all over.
“Yes?” I nod, a little unsure of what he even said. I know he spoke and I need to give him a response; to what, who knows? I can’t think, I only feel him and take in his features.
He’s aged a touch, but nothing too noticeable. The few lines from his ever-present glare and his time out on the road have gotten slightly more pronounced, but that’s about all. His hair’s throwing me a bit. It’s so much longer, and I’ve never cared for dreads, but I like them on him. He wears the look well, reminding me of one of the guys you see in a heavy metal video—forbidden and wild.
“Where have you been?” He’s angry; I can hear it in his voice. He’s pissed over something. Over me leaving? No way; he has no reason to be. I was the one who left hurt and upset, not the other way around.
“B?” Princess comes into the hall, a concerned gaze at Nightmare’s hand on me. Her wake never falters, coming to me immediately and grabbing onto my free hand, holding the plastic bag in a death grip. “Come on Bethany, I need you to help me.” Her eyes snap to Nightmare’s, full of her own warning. She can’t say anything to him; it’s not her place in the club, but she can tell her ol’ man if something bothers her.
He drops his hands from me, releasing my cheek and wrist. Taking a step back, his gaze shutters, and without another word, he watches my best friend cart me toward the door. He never says anything, and part of me wishes he would stop us, while the other can’t stop thinking of how it felt when he touched me.
How did I ever think I could come back here and he wouldn’t affect me? I’ve never been that strong. I am for Maverick, but never for myself and never when it comes to Nightmare.
Maverick.
“Mav—” I begin, and Princess cuts me off.
“Is fine. I checked on him. I don’t think Night has seen him yet.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course; I have your back.”
“We should go.”
“Already? Please stay. What if you go back to my house and take a breather?”
“Okay, I can do that. Maverick will probably be ready for a nap soon anyhow. I just need some space from him.” I nod at the back door.
“I’ve been with Viking for a while now; I get it. They have a way of overtaking everything, nearly smothering you at times.”
“Exactly.” I set the bag down and toss the half-full beer in the metal trash bin. Smother is a good word to use whenever I’m near him; consumed would work as well.
Collecting my kid and his stuff, we get out of there as quickly and quietly as possible, not wanting to draw any attention.
It doesn’t take long before Maverick’s down for a nap, and I’m lying beside him, tears flooding my face. I was a fool to think I wouldn’t be that messed up at seeing Night. It’s been years—actual years since I saw his face and heard his voice—yet he has this control over me within minutes. Not only did he suck me right back in, but he twisted my heart all over again knowing that the innocent little boy playing right outside is unwanted by his own father.
Fuck you, Nightmare!
My own tiredness sets in, and I succumb to sleep. Unfortunately, there’s not enough alcohol in my system to drown out memories that like to torment me in my dreams—my nightmares.