Kyla
Ricky had my dad take me back to the cabin. I think he was losing patience with me hovering around him. How can he not see he needs to give himself time to heal from the blast? I knew he could be stubborn but this is pure stupidity. I’ve seen men at the club suffer injuries and carry on like they’re fine. However, Ricky was in a fucking coma and still, he acts like he bumped his head.
The town passes us by in a blur. It would be useless to argue with him to take me home so I carry on sitting in silence, letting the wind whipping around the old truck cool me down and keep me awake.
“The doc wouldn’t be sending him home tomorrow if he wasn’t gonna be okay to live his life. Stop worrying about him, he’s got a good head on his shoulders and he wouldn’t do shit he knew he couldn’t see through to the end.”
I’ve been waiting for him to open his mouth and say something I don’t want to hear.
“If mom had been in that car and spent two days in a coma, you would wrap her up in cotton wool, you would drive her crazy making sure she was okay, not wanting her to do anything that would put her in danger.”
“She’s my wife, it’s my job to take care of her…”
“And it’s my job to look out for my man, especially when he’s acting stupid. It’s the same as you with mom,” I argue, cutting him off.
“It’s not the same.”
“Yes, it is…”
“No, it’s fuckin’ not,” he snaps, “We look out for you and in turn, you trust us. Ask yourself, do you trust Ricky to do what’s best for you both?”
“That’s not fair.”
“It has nothing to do with what’s fair or not, it’s the way it is. You’ve trusted him all this time, he was the one you trusted when you were at your lowest, and when we wake up in the near future, these days will fade and Ricky will still be a Lost Soul and you will still be his old lady. Take care of him, trust him, and above all, get over this silly talk of him staying out of the fight.”
Get over it? Snorting, I bite my tongue in order to keep my mouth shut. Surprisingly, neither of us say a word for the rest of the drive and when we arrive at the cabin, bikes are parked everywhere. Brothers sitting and standing, chatting, smoking, all ready and on alert for anything to happen.
I spy Cas and Sparky standing by the side of the cabin and my dad parks not too far from them. They start walking around the back as I climb down from the truck and when my dad walks off into the cabin, I follow Cas and Sparky.
I stop dead in my tracks, taking in the view of the mountains. It’s beautiful out here. Sparky’s deep voice disturbs the peace around us and I snap back into focus.
“Cas, can I have a word please,” I call out, walking towards them.
“Only if you’re quick, I have shit to do.”
I avoid Sparky’s cheek, whoever sliced him open did a real good job of scarring him for life. Looking at it makes me feel queasy.
“Um…they say Ricky can come home tomorrow and he wants to come straight here.”
“The club is his home, Kyla. What is it you want?”
“I want you to order him to stay home and rest. He needs time to heal before he fights with you.”
There, I’ve said it, out loud and he laughs in my face.
“Did he tell you that himself?” Sparky asks.
“No…but…”
“But nothing, darlin’. If Ricky comes to us and he needs time he’ll get it, but until he does, we’ll take his word he’s okay,” Cas interjects.
“We understand you’re worried about him, fuck, we all are but what’s done is done and he survived. He wants to move on and so do we. Go inside, Bon will fix you up with something to eat and then get your head down.”
Sparky is normally a nice guy, with the glint in his eye and an evil curve to his smirk, he is not a nice guy today. Turning my back on the two of them, I head into the cabin and just like at the club, the women are looking after the kids and making sure there’s plenty of food for everyone while the brothers come and go as they please.
I snatch a sandwich off the platter on the table and hide in the corner of the kitchen. Bonnie keeps watching me and she looks worried. I try to smile and silently tell her not to, but she ends up walking over and sits beside me
“Do you need to talk about anything?” she asks.
“I need to talk to Rick, but he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say,” I sigh.
“The guys around here rarely do, what isn’t he listening to?”
Is there any point in telling her? She’s Sparky’s old lady and strong herself, the bad rolls off her like water off a duck’s back.
“It’s nothing, I’m just being silly, I’m tired and I need a shower,” I lie so I can get away and be on my own.
“Okay, but if you need to talk at any time, I’m here for you,” she offers.
“Thanks.”
I throw the half-eaten sandwich in the trash on my way out and head upstairs. The bathroom is free and I quickly grab a clean set of clothes before anyone can lock themselves in and I have to wait.
I lock the door behind me and turn on the shower. I take my time undressing as the water takes a while to heat up.
I stand, looking in the mirror and while my reflection doesn’t repulse me any longer, I can still see the faint scars around my veins on my arms.
They begin to itch the longer I look at them and I know it’s all in my head. If I were high, I wouldn’t give a shit about the fight happening around the club. I would be able to ride it out until they track down Danny on a wave of ecstasy. I wouldn’t notice the hum drum life of the women taking care of the men. I wouldn’t notice the brothers coming and going at all times of the day and night, I wouldn’t notice anything.
Dropping my arms to my side, I turn away from the mirror. I can’t afford to think darkly and go back to the times where a high meant more than life itself. It’s selfish and it’s pathetic.
This is the first time I’ve thought about getting high since my father locked me in a room at the clubhouse and it has scared me. I need Ricky and I need him alive and safe.
I thought I was stronger than this, I thought nothing could make me crave the poison I once needed to get up in the mornings. It turns out, the thought of losing the man I love can.
Stepping under the spray of the water, I try washing away the fear and turn up the temperature. The water scolds my skin and I barely feel it. Visions of Ricky unconscious being dragged out of the car fills my mind and I begin to cry. He looked dead, he nearly did die and I can’t cope. My dad tells me to trust Ricky and I have for a long time, but it didn’t stop him being caught up in the blast and ending up in a coma. You can’t trust someone not to die, but you can expect them not to die when they’re not living in a war zone.