CHAPTER TWELVE
Tank
Another week went by, the same as the last and the one before that. I didn’t leave the house except to hit the store.
I hardly ate. Every time I put something in my mouth I immediately wanted to throw up. I didn’t care about anything but reliving all of my mistakes and then doing my best to blur them to the point they went away. My life was going nowhere but that is exactly where I thought it should be. I didn’t deserve to live. Every second, every breath, I missed Logan.
My memories were starting to fade slightly. The scenes not as crisp in my mind as they once had been. His smile not as bright as I knew it was. His laugh not as loud and his eyes missing that sparkle in the steel color. I tried so hard to replay the memories over and over in my head so they wouldn’t slip away. But it wasn’t helping. I wondered how long it would be before I forgot everything about him and the though completely gutted me.
I could remember the night of the explosion so vividly that I often woke up with my skin on fire and the smell of smoke singeing my nose. I could hear the shattering of the glass as it blew out and the crack of the wood as it splintered and flew at me. But I couldn’t hold onto the good things.
I was angry. I was sad. I was tired. But most of all I was just numb. How I could feel all those things and not feel anything at the same time was beyond me. I didn’t want to help myself, yet I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ever reach the bottom. I loved my life before all of this shit happened. I had it all. A great family—even if it wasn’t perfect, the amazing love of my child, a club to watch my back, and two fucking great best friends. One of which, had finally found his happiness and I had been there to see it happen.
And while I had once been happy for Diesel, I remembered that he had everything I no longer did. He got his second chance. His little girl was so beautiful and I remembered seeing that look on his face when she was born. I had that same look the first time I held Logan. I was disgusted with myself that I hated him for still having it all while I’d lost everything. I knew it hurt him the most, after my mom, that was, that I’d walked away. He wanted to be there for me, help me, but I couldn’t even stand to be around him. It hurt too much.
I left everyone.
I wanted to be alone. Yet, I found myself leaving the cabin that night again. A small part of me wanted to keep the promise that I had made. Keeping my word to my brothers was in my blood, even if I wasn’t there with them. I left at the worst time and the thing that made me feel the shittiest was that they understood and let me go. They didn’t try too hard to make me stay and they didn’t spit on me for turning my back on them when they needed me the most. They understood, and with the best intentions in their heart, let me go.
I drove my truck down the mountain, hours after the sun had gone down. It was easier for me to go out in the dark. The world felt as cold as my soul then. Plus, I was under no illusion that I was normal looking. I had ugly burn scars on visible parts of my body. My hair was long and a mess. I couldn’t tell you when the last time I’d even brushed it. Sure, my size alone was enough to frighten children and make their mothers pull them closer to their side, but in the state of I-don’t-give-a-fuck that I was in made me even more menacing looking. Little did they know, I’d never hurt the innocent.
The light in the window at the bar caught my attention. Sighing, I swung my truck into the exact same space that I’d parked in just a week ago. I told myself that it was the booze that brought me there and it being the only bar in town, it was the place to go. But inside I wondered if it was more than that. With where my head was at, I wouldn’t let myself indulge in any other reason, though.
I certainly hadn’t thought about her since the moment I’d walked out of her apartment a week ago. No, I certainly didn’t spend a few hours replaying our interactions trying to figure her out. Those few words she spoke to me definitely did not replay over and over in my head to the point I felt like I was going crazy. I was in no place to even give a damn about my own self, let alone anyone else. Not just anyone, someone who I didn’t even know or cared to know. Selfish as it may have been, I was too far down the dark spiral to even entertain any other thoughts or feelings. So as much as I may have let her wiggle her way into the outer edges of my brain, I didn’t have it in me to try and process what it might have meant.
The fall was turning into winter and you could feel it in the air that night. The wind whipped violently around me, chilling straight through to the bone as I made my way up to the building.
I pulled open the door and walked in. It had the same fill of people as the previous week. The same two guys sat at the far end of the bar. I took the exact spot that I’d last week, and when I looked up behind the bar, I found the same tall, thick-haired beauty that had taken care of my pathetic ass the week before. Her posture was tight and tall, back straight, head held high, and I could tell she knew I was there even though her head didn’t turn to look my way.
I waited and waited. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction that the fact that she hadn’t acknowledged me was making me pissy. I could smell the mix of alcohol in the air and all I wanted was a fucking drink.
I ducked my head still watching her under my brow. Still not giving me her eyes, she reached out to her right and grabbed a bottle filled to the brim with a beautiful light caramel glow. She turned and I watched her hips sway slightly as she came towards to me. I’d known my fair share of women, but her walk was all natural. She wasn’t trying to saunter in a way that would catch my eye. But still, it had been a damn long time that something as simple as a woman’s walk had caught my attention. Maybe it was everything catching up with me and the giant fact that it had been over five years since I had even touched a woman. The thought of fucking anything died the day I realized I stuck my dick in crazy and disappointment. From the moment that bitch walked out of our life, it was like that part of me just shut down. The traumatizing fear was always in the forefront of my mind that history would repeat itself if I even went near a pussy again.
But that was neither here nor there. I wasn’t going to go down that road and I sure as hell wasn’t going to overthink it.
Before she could make it all the way to me, an older man stepped up to the bar. By his sway and slow movements, I could tell that he was already three sheets to the wind.
“I need another one, sweetheart,” the man’s voice boomed in an unfriendly tone.
I shouldn’t have cared, this was her shit to deal with and I was sure that working in a place like this she was accustom to dealing with demanding drunks. However, it didn’t stop me from straightening my spine as I took the man in.
He had to have been in his late fifties. His hair was all gray and hung shabby around his eyes.
“I think you are done for the night, Mr. Leery. Your daughter should be here any minute to pick you up,” she spoke to him in a calm, but not soothing, way.
It was as if she’d done this song and dance before.
She abandoned the bottle of liquor that was destined for me on the bar top as she made her way around to the man. My eyes zeroed in on the bottle almost like I was trying to call it towards me.
“Come on,” she said slipping her arm around his waist I assumed to help him outside.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the man stagger and then jerk away from her violently. No one else did anything, so I stayed rooted on my seat.
“Get me another drink! That’s what I pay you for! What? My money’s no good for you either?” The man turned belligerent.
That was the moment I fully turned my head to the scene. Her eyes caught mine and she pinned me with a hard stare. For some reason, my brain understood she was telling me to stay put. She tried again, pulling the man along with a strange gentle touch. But he wasn’t having it. He began to lash out again, his arms going in all different directions with angry jerks. His empty glass hit the bar top with a thud and shattered.
“No!” he screamed and one of his arms whacked her good on the shoulder, sending her stumbling into the bar.
The collision had me on my feet and moving without any thought. The only thing I could think about was to protect the woman, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t take my help easily. Standing between the two of them, my back to the man, I was happy to see that other patrons had moved in to help. I gripped her shoulder holding her upright, though I knew she didn’t need it. She sucked in a barely noticeable breath at my touch, but I didn’t let go.
“Dad,” a female voice called out from the entryway and that was all it took for the man to calm down. Then he shuffled off and made his exit. “I’m so sorry…”
All she did was raise her hand to wave the woman off. That was when I saw the blood running down her arm. I snatched her hand, really in no mood to deal with this kind of distraction, and turned it over to inspect it.
“First Aid Kit?” I mumbled low but didn’t dare look up to see what kind of expression she was pinning me with.
“Uh, here,” someone said sliding the white plastic box across the bar top.
We didn’t speak as I cleaned the few cuts that dotted the tender part of her hand. I did my best to focus on the task and not how soft her skin felt against my calloused fingers. Or how her strange scent invaded my nose. Or the fact that her breathing was just a bit heavier and the fact that I could tell she was doing her best to hide it.
I didn’t care about any of those things. But I had no explanation why I’d jumped in and helped her. Why I had to be the one to see to her injury. Or why I was taking my time looking her over.
“It doesn’t look like there are any shards left behind,” I mumbled as I rubbed some ointment on them and covered them with a square piece of gauze and some tape.
I resisted the urge to bring her hand up to my lips and place a tender kiss on top of the bandage. It was a habit, that was what I told myself. I’d been doing that for years with my son, because he was convinced it made the hurt go away. With a deep sigh, I released her hand and made my way back to my stool. She was fixed now, she had no excuse to not bring me my damn drink.
I kept my head down as she walked around the bar and grabbed the abandoned bottle that was meant for me. She finally made her way over and stood right in front of me, but neither of us said anything. She didn’t thank me, which I was grateful as fuck for. I didn’t need to be thanked. Hell, maybe I shouldn’t have even helped her in the first place. But then again, that wasn’t the type of person I was.
She reached down under the bar and pulled out a squat glass, then gingerly set the glass on the bar. Pouring whiskey into the glass almost to the brim, she looked down at me, her head still held high. Before she could even set the bottle down, I snatched up the glass and tossed the whole thing back. I relished in the burn of it going down as I swallowed.
I set the glass back on the bar top with a heavy thud and stared at it as I waited for her to fill it up again. There was a long beat of us at a standoff of unmoving. Our bodies were frozen in place but the air around us seemed to crackle with a strange kind of energy. I slowly lifted my head to meet her eyes.
“Another,” I grunted. Her brow inched up in a way that seemed like a warning. That was when I noticed how full and beautifully sculpted her brows were. They sat perfectly on her face and made her round eyes more prominent. “Please,” I said trying to seem unaffected by the simple fact that her being a few feet away from me was too much for me to handle.
Her hand still gripped the neck of the bottle. Her pointer finger curled and her short nail tapped against the side three times before resting in a cocked position against the glass.
“Tell me something,” she said, her voice deep and low. It was like I could feel it all the way to my toes. But no, that was the whiskey hitting my blood. That was all.
I waited. Usually when someone said that it followed with a question of what it was that they what to know. But there was nothing. Was this like an open-ended thing? Was I supposed to fill in the blank?
I was in no mood for games. But strangely, it didn’t feel like she was playing one. She wasn’t interested in me like the clubwhores were. No, the look in her eye was sparkling with curiosity and that seemed to be the simplest truth of it.
Now, women throwing themselves at me, wanting a piece of my cut or dick, I could deal with—I knew what to do with. It was as simple as turning them down a few times, then they would curve their energy elsewhere, to someone who was an easier target. Someone who maybe even wanted them. But someone wanting to simply know something about me, especially a woman, was fucking Greek to me.
I squinted, looking deep into her stunning eyes. It was like I was hypnotized as I opened my mouth to speak.
“My son is dead and I can’t find a reason to live for.” My own words shocked me.
I blinked trying to clear my head. I had no idea why I’d just said that. It was the truth, but it was my truth that I wanted to keep hidden.
When I came back out of my thoughts, I saw her watching me. The look of shock that filled me was not shared by her. Or if it was, she hid it well. It was quite the confession, I thought. I expected to see sympathy or a horrid expression with mouth gaping and maybe even a bit of wetness in the eyes. That was what I was used to getting. I swallowed, finding myself more intrigued and a bit giddy about her.
She poured my drink.
I downed it.
Then waited for another.
Her hand was still wrapped around the bottle and the other pressed tightly into the edge of the bar as she leaned in a little closer. Not much, not enough that a normal person would notice, but I did. As I slyly studied her, I wondered if she was even aware that she’d done it.
“Name?” she asked after her eyes danced around my face with no reaction to what she was looking for or seeing.
Everything about her was hesitant and well thought out. I was used to women who were wild and had no problem spouting off whatever was on their mind. I had no idea what to do with this stoic statue in front of me.
I instinctively wet my lips. I may have been a bit nervous and intimidated.
“Ta-Noah.” I don’t know why at the last second I gave her my real name. The only person that called me that was my mom. I almost wished she would have said it back to me, just so I could hear how sweet it would be coming off of her lips. But she didn’t. Instead, she just gave me a short nod.
Needing to break whatever was going on, I pulled out my wallet and slapped a hundred down on the bar. Just like I had the week before.
“Leave it,” I growled and turned my attention elsewhere. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her head angled just the slightest bit like she was looking in the mirrored wall behind the bar. I found myself wanting to know her name. If only for the small fact that I would have something to call her in my head. “Yours?”
She paused. Her head turned further to the side as she looked over her shoulder, her wavy hair sliding behind her with the movement.
“Dya,” she supplied before continuing to walk away. The way she pronounced it with a bit of an accent made me pause. Dee-yah. What a strange name. But in a way, it seemed to suit her because she was a little odd and definitely unique.
I may have felt a twitch in my heart the moment her name spilled from her full mouth. But fuck if I knew why.