Chapter
15
Not Any Better
~Sass~
My throat feels like it’s on fire. It hurts to swallow even ice water. After days of dealing with chills and a fever, I know I have strep throat. I am completely miserable. Unable to keep on like I am, I call my mom. Yes, I’m almost twenty-seven-years-old, I’m sick, and I called my mom. She took me to the doctors this afternoon. It’s confirmed, I have strep throat, and the meds the doctor has prescribed can’t kick in fast enough.
Nick wants me working on wedding stuff and has scheduled me to go dress shopping at a local boutique today. I’m not feeling it, though. Between being sick and feeling disconnected from everyone close to me, I don’t even know where to begin. My chest aches as I realize I would normally call Doll and we would be doing this together. We have that real kind of friendship. I know if I pick up the phone right now it will be like nothing has changed when the reality is, everything has changed and I am more lost now than ever before. Will Nick even allow her to be in the wedding?
I’m in our bed, wearing an old, oversized t-shirt and panties, shaking with chills when Nick gets home. I can hear him moving around. Maybe he will be sweet and bring me some soup to bed. He knows I have been sick. He’s been bringing me orange juice in the mornings and the occasional honey and lemon hot tea. I don’t remember feeling this bad when I would get sick like this as a kid.
Rolling over, I watch the door when Nick enters. He’s got a bed tray with a steamy bowl of some sort of soup. I sit up in the bed as he brings the tray over, sitting on the edge of the bed as he situates everything.
“Not any better?”
“Not really,” I croak out.
Deciding it’s best I tell him—since he obviously monitors my phone—about sharing my afternoon with my mom, I say, “I’m sorry I missed the dress appointment. I called my mom today and she took me to the doctor.”
“Well, I saw you called your mom. I assumed it was to go dress shopping. We can reschedule the appointment, love. What did the doctor say?”
“I have the worst case of strep throat he’s seen in an adult in years. If I’m not better in ten days, I have to see the ENT to possibly have my tonsils removed.”
“You still have yours?” He laughs, making me smile.
“I rarely get sick, but apparently when I do, I do it big,” I croak out.
“Eat up, Savannah. The chicken broth will help.”
I begin to sip the broth as Nick’s phone rings.
“It’s work. I gotta take this. Need anything else?”
I shake my head no as I continue small mouthfuls of the warm liquid. I smile sweetly at Nick as he exits our bedroom. As much as I love that he takes care of me, I’m glad to have the reprieve from speaking. After finishing half the bowl of soup, I move the tray off the bed and onto our dresser. Lying back down, I begin to doze when Nick comes back in.
The bed dips as he climbs in. As he gets closer, I realize he’s naked. Nick always wears something to sleep in, whether it’s just boxers or pajama pants, he doesn’t sleep naked. Quickly, I find out his intention is not to sleep. He’s over me, kissing my neck as he moves his thigh between my legs to push them apart.
“Nick, not tonight, please,” I struggle to say as the fire builds in my throat once again.
“Come on. It’s been days.” His hand comes up my shirt and he’s rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger.
“No, really. I’m sick. I’m just not in the mood,” I try to say firmly.
“Once I start, you’ll get into it,” he states as he moves my panties over and begins to run his fingers through my folds.
I force my mind to relax, but this is the last thing I want tonight. He’s obviously determined, so I lie there. I do nothing to help him, and I lack the energy to fight him. His impatience with my lack of response builds, though. He stops licking and kissing on my neck and moves to take off my panties. As soon as they are off, he slams into me. Unprepared for such a harsh entrance, I cry out in pain.
“You like it rough. I know those bikers fucked you hard, just like this. Is that why you can’t stay away? I’m not rough enough with you. Is this what you’re missing?” he asks, ramming into me repeatedly.
Closing my eyes, I force back the tears that are building. He will not break me. I shake my head back and forth, trying to silently communicate with him, yet he’s not paying attention to me, only pounding away, working towards his release. My stomach churns. Thankfully, his release comes fast as I feel his warm seed spread inside me. As soon as he pulls out, I jump up from our bed and make it to the bathroom just in time to lose the little bit of soup I have eaten.
Nick’s not far behind me. He holds my hair back as the dry heaves rack through me, and once they subside, he takes a wet washcloth and wipes down my face. Afterward, the sound of the bathtub filling behind me lets me know where I will be next.
Lost. Numb. Drowning in thoughts, I go limp as Nick lifts me, t-shirt and all, into the bathtub. He then pulls the shirt off me and climbs in behind me. My back to his front, he holds me against him as he rubs gentle circles over the skin of my stomach.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I thought with you going to the doctor and finally eating, you would be okay.”
I can’t manage words so I stay in my mental void as he begins to wash my body with the lavender soaps he always keeps beside this tub. After he sees I am not going to respond, he finishes up. He lifts me out of the tub, and once I am on my feet, he wraps me in a plush robe he bought for me. In a daze, I stand there until he scoops me up and takes me back to bed. He then climbs in beside me, cuddling close.
“You need rest. You’ll feel better in the morning, love.”
Love. He really calls this love? What the hell have I gotten myself into? I am no safer with Nick than when Delatorre had cameras in my house. Who is the man sleeping beside me?
~Tank~
“Come on, Tank. You could ride that Harley for hours; a simple stretch out shouldn’t be hard. Quit groaning and man up,” Desirae shouts at me as she pushes my leg up over my head.
“I’m not a fuckin’ pretzel. You do this shit on purpose. You like to make grown men hurt. They have a name for that, you know.”
“Suck it up, buttercup. Today’s the last day I get to torture you unless you want me to tie you to my bed and have my wicked way with you.”
“I’m not answering that being as your foot is too close to my nuts if I answer wrong.”
She releases my leg as we both laugh. After months of physical therapy with Desirae, our time is done. My body is back to normal, for the most part. I have a slight limp, but it’s unrecognizable to people who don’t know me. I am back in shape, not perfect, but definitely fit. Plus, I am more flexible than I was before getting shot, thanks to Desirae stretching me. She has pushed my limits every step of the way, refusing to let me give up.
We finish my final run through and I am given my official discharge papers. This is another weight lifted off my back. I’m moving past all the losses and getting back on track.
Back at the garage working, I see Danza is especially hard to deal with today. He’s throwing wrenches, slamming drawers, and overall a grizzly bear to be around.
“Brother, chill the fuck out. What did the toolbox ever do to you?”
“Sass is fuckin’ sick. She called her momma yesterday. They went to the doctor, and she’s got strep throat.”
“Damn, man. I’m sure she feels like ass. Lots of people get sick, though, and their dad’s don’t dent metal over it.”
“Fuck you. Have a daughter of your own, then you talk to me.” I laugh at him as he continues.
“I’m fuckin’ helpless. My baby girl is sick. She won’t talk to me. The pretty-boy she’s shackin’ up with didn’t take her to the doctors; she had to call her momma. And I say it again, she won’t talk to me!”
“You do realize your baby girl is a grown ass adult? She’s got to sort this out for herself.”
“She’s sick… if she was your ol’ lady, would you take her to the doctor?” he questions, proving his point and justifying his anger.
“If she asked me to or was sick enough, you know it.”
“Pretty-boy didn’t take her to the doctor. She had to call her momma. Her momma that she ain’t been speakin’ to. I wanna beat the shit outta him. She’s layin’ there, feelin’ like pure shit and he goes to work like every other day.”
“Look at it this way, it’s another nail in his coffin. Sass knows what she’s got back home. He’s showing her the grass ain’t always greener on the other side.”
“I’m fuckin’ helpless.” He shakes his head in frustration. “Man, I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my life. Made a lot of fuckin’ mistakes as a man, a husband, and a dad. But she’s all I can truly say I’ve done right. I know she got scared. Her momma says she doesn’t feel strong enough for this life. Well, in this life, in this family, no one has to go through shit alone. Right now, she’s fuckin’ alone. I don’t give a shit that boy put her in that huge ass house, has her drivin’ one slick car, and wearing them fancy ass clothes, he’s not there for her. Not like the club would be.”
“I agree, but she’s got to see that for herself, Danza,” I say with a sigh.
“You miss her?” He raises his eyebrows like I’m not hiding anything from him.
“Yeah, is it that obvious?”
“She loves you, Tank. I watched her while you were in the hospital. She’d come back to the club, to the family, for you. I know you’re trying to give her space, but I got a bad feelin’ about this pretty-boy.”
“You sure that bad feelin’ isn’t just because he’s fuckin’ your daughter?”
“Nah, you fuckin’ my daughter was a bad feelin’ because you weren’t ready to be fuckin’ my daughter yet. You’re ready now. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders and learned to keep your dick in your pants. This boy has an agenda, though. I don’t know what his intentions are, but they are far from innocent.”
“Well, getting shot in the head shows a man what’s really important,” I say, not knowing how to ease the pain I see in his eyes.
“Look, Tank, I’ve fucked around. It was a long time ago, but I did it for years. Sass knows. She knows her momma put up with that. What she doesn’t know is I’ve regretted it every day, for years. She thinks a brother can’t be faithful. If you add in the time away on runs, the danger, and ever present barflies, then Sass doesn’t know how to be secure in our world. I caused that.” He hangs his head before looking back up to make direct eye contact with me. “You gotta show her. She left the club thinking she couldn’t have you and knowing she wasn’t prepared for this life. Show her she’s made for this, show her you aren’t me. Tank, you faced me toe-to-toe for her, so she meant something to you long before you got shot. You gotta show her what you want. Show her you’d give it all to her better than she knows it can be. Don’t let her lose everything to her fears. The very fears I caused her to have.”
His words play on repeat in my head. I knew she was afraid. I just didn’t know how deeply rooted that insecurity was until now.
Without another word, I turn and walk away. Hopping on my bike, I make my way to the store then to her house.
She doesn’t meet me outside this time, therefore I climb the stairs to the first floor of her house since I don’t have the key to use her elevator. Yeah, imagine that. An elevator. My leg slightly throbs as I make my way up the stilted house steps. I have pushed myself hard today.
Ringing the doorbell, I wait. No answer. The Cayenne is parked under the house, so she’s got to be here.
It takes three more rings of the bell before she finally comes to the door, and when she does, she is in my old sweat pants and a ratty Harley Davidson t-shirt that I’m pretty sure was Danza’s at one point. I don’t know where she got my pants from, but being I was in the hospital so long, she had more than enough opportunity to snag anything she wanted. The shock on her face makes it apparent I am the last person she expected to be on her doorstep.
“Button.”
“I’m sick, Tank. You probably don’t want to come in,” she squeaks out, obviously in pain from talking.
“Yeah, I heard you weren’t feelin’ well.” Lifting the bag I’ve brought with me, I say, “I brought the perfect cure.”
As I hold the bag out to her, I notice the light is gone in her face. Something is wrong. It’s not just because she’s sick, either.
She steps back, letting me in the house.
“What did you bring me?” she asks in a whisper.
“Popsicles.” I smile as I pull out the box. “You want cherry, orange or grape?”
She grabs the box from me, taking out one of the frozen cherry treats as she takes the box to the freezer in the bar area. She gestures for me to sit on the couch, so I do. Everything feels so untouched in this house. I’m a little nervous to even go near anything, much less sit on the furniture.
“Quite a museum you got here, Button,” I comment as she makes her way back to where I am.
“Yeah, it’s a pain in my ass to clean,” she says, sucking on her Popsicle, making my dick get hard, wishing it was me she was sucking, sick or not. Damn, I miss her mouth.
“You okay, Button? I know you’re sick, but you seem off.”
“I’m fine Tank. It’s—”
I finish for her, “Complicated.” I shake my head. “So you keep sayin’. You got family. You got friends. You got me. You aren’t alone. If you’re happy with the polo-wearin’, pretty-boy, then I’ll back off, but I won’t go away. Button, you don’t have to stay with him. I know you got fears, baby. I fucked up. I’m a man. I make mistakes. We didn’t get a real chance, though. I want a chance, Button.”
I see her holding her tears back. “I need time to sort through things. He takes care of me, Tank.”
“You think I won’t?”
Her eyes get big like she’s never really thought about the fact that, yes, I would take care of her and she knows it.
“You know if you were my ol’ lady, I’d take care of you. It may not be living in a museum and driving that fancy SUV, but you’d have a nice house that’s a real fuckin’ home. You’d have whatever car you want that isn’t foreign. Baby, you’d have your place on the back of my bike. The ride of our lives. It’s waitin’ for us.”
“Tank,” she whispers.
Knowing I just dropped a bit of a bomb on her, I decide she needs time to think. I’ve laid my cards out there for her, now it’s her play.
“I gotta go for now, Button. But you think on it. Don’t settle.” I stand up, lean over her and kiss her forehead. “Talk soon.” And with that, I make my way out of her house and back to the garage.
However, I will be back, and when I come back, it will be to take her home. She’s going to see it. I’ve planted the seed, now I just have to watch it grow.