A comforting blanket of warmth stirs me awake. My hand slides from the cocoon of warmth and slips into the chilly desert morning air.

Did I sleep in V’s office last night?

My brain is a foggy mess of drowsiness that I can’t seem to shake. My brain thumps like a drumline, as the beginnings of a headache start. My bones creak and crack with every labored stretch, until the fog finally lifts.

I’m back in my room. Normally, one would expect to find themselves snuggled into their own bed. But in my situation, I don’t exactly remember coming back here.

Did he bring me back? Did I sleep walk?

The comforter slips from my feet, and the cold chill sends an instant need for the restroom. I try to convince my bladder that I need more sleep, and that if I left the confines of my warm bed, that it might not accept me back again. A ludicrous thought, I know. I mean do blankets have feelings? Not likely, but it doesn’t mean that I want to leave their heat for the chilly outside air.

I slip another foot out of the covers, which only makes the need to pee intensify.

“Goddammit,” I grumble, throwing off the blankets, putting both of my feet down on the cold floor. I pad to the bathroom in a huff and take care of business. My body shivers, as I head back to bed. For a split second, I consider just getting up for the day, but decide against it. A day in bed sounds much better, than facing the world.

The comforter thankfully allows me back into the bed. Welcoming me with semi-warm arms. I flip over the pillow to the cool side, snuggling into it. The quietness of the room begins to lull me back to sleep, until my brain has other ideas. The scene from last night floods my sleepy mind.

The care and thoughtfulness of V’s gesture makes me smile into my pillow. He knew exactly the kind of distraction that I needed, after facing one of the men that sent my life spiraling back out of control again. His dark eyes and cold, emotionless face haunted my dreams, during the sad attempt of the nap I had tried to take, before V’s planned evening. Had it not been for his distraction, I doubt I would have slept so well last night.

My consciousness re-focuses to V. His bright eyes were beacons of laughs and smiles, throughout the entire night. After so many days of nervousness and avoidance, I think he was finally ready to show me the man behind the mask. He was goofy, as he explained the game to me, and his personality really came out to play. While I had pegged him as an anxiety-riddled man, my diagnosis may not exactly be accurate. Anxiety may not have been his folly at all. His issue with the situation was definitely centered around me. From the moment I walked into this club, I felt like there was something different about him. He was overly cautious, yet caring when he needed me to identify my attacker. He was also oddly protective of me. Try as he might, I noticed the way he sneered at the men looking in my direction. He was like a male trying to mark his territory. Thankfully, he didn’t try to piss on my leg.

It was perplexing to me to think about the day and night change in him. But somehow, some way, last night changed it all for me. The games were meant to be the distraction, but in reality, it was his company that distracted me more. My core was a heated mess of need and desire, the minute he closed the door to his office, leaving us alone like two teenagers trying to fool around without being caught. He was an attractive man, and any woman would turn a head to look at him.

But the feelings developing inside of me can’t be real in such a short time. It was confusing, especially with a piece of my heart firmly in Beauregard’s hands. If the feelings I have for him are even real. When I leaned into V’s arm, I felt pangs of guilt inside of me because of Beauregard. Was he out with other women in our silence? Was I even the only woman he was talking to? These were all questions that I couldn’t answer without him. Ones that would likely go unanswered, until I found a phone charger. Something that I had already shoved into the not going to happen inbox of my mind. Which is where I should be storing V, but for some reason, I was wavering on it.

There was something about him that I wasn’t seeing on the surface. I shouldn’t even be considering seeing where it goes with him, yet I can’t shake the thought from my mind. My heart was leading me to Beauregard, but my mind was pushing me towards V, despite the fact that it would never last. If the dangers lurking around me finally settled, my plan wasn’t to stick around. My life would never be back in this club, and getting involved with V, would only complicate that plan even more. The other side of that coin wasn’t a pretty picture either. I would be the one to lose.

I try to shove the ridiculous notion of a relationship with V out of my mind. The silence of the room is near deafening and is soon broken by the sound of my stomach betraying my plans of lying in bed all day.

Traitor.

I shove the blankets back off of me, stalking to the chest of drawers, where the clothes V had gotten for me lay folded inside. The old wooden drawer squeaks as I open it. I reach inside, grabbing another simple t-shirt with the club’s logo on it and grab a pair of black leggings.

I dress quickly in the cold, and sweep my long dark hair into a messy bun on top of my head. You could say that was a perk of being in my brother’s clubhouse because I really didn’t need to care about how I looked. I wasn’t here to impress anyone. Well, not everyone. V might me the only exception to that rule.

Stop it, Presley. Why are you doing this to yourself? It’s only going to end badly. Cling to Beauregard. With him, there’s a future.

My stomach vibrates and grumbles, snapping me back from mentally berating myself. I walk to my door, throwing it open, and step into the hallway. With each step closer to the main room, the smell of breakfast wafts into my nostrils, causing my stomach to growl in protest again.

The room is busy with tables of people chattering about, all the while shoving food into their mouths. Everyone seems really happy here the longer that I watch them. I have to admit to myself that Mikey really did have a positive effect on the club. It was almost like the family I had once envisioned this place could be, as jaded child. It could all be just a mirage though. Like the calm before the raging storm that Ginny and I had brought upon them. Guilt hits again knowing that the delicate balance of this club may be tipped back into the darkness because of us. It is a thought that doesn’t settle well in my heart and soul. I make a silent promise to myself that I will run, before I ever let that happen to my brother’s hard work.

“Presley! Over here,” Ginny’s voice calls out to me. I spot her over at a smaller table, off to the side with her brother flanking her. I smile back at her, as I walk towards them.

“Morning,” she beams at me. “Sleep well?”

“I did,” I respond, sounding almost too formal with her. It’s hard to remember that we are no longer just a doctor and patient. “And you?”

“Like a baby, except when this big lug was snoring,” she says with a giggle and elbows Ratchet’s rib cage.

“I don’t snore,” he snarls. “That’s you.”

Ginny scowls at his rudeness, and elbows him again.

“Don’t mind him. He’s an asshole in the morning.”

He scoffs at her accurate observation of his mood, and shovels a spoonful of eggs into his mouth.

“I’ll go grab some food, and then I’ll be back.”

Ginny smiles at me and just laughs, pointing behind me.

“I think your food is already on the way.”

I peer over my shoulder, and find V balancing two plates through the tables, heading right for us. He strides up next to us, depositing a plate in front of me.

“First it was video games, then a movie, and now breakfast. Is there anything that you don’t do, V?” I smile, as he slides onto the stool next to me with his own plate, loaded with what has to be about a pound of bacon and one lonely scoop of eggs, that are barely holding onto the plate.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he teases back, while he stuffs a few pieces of bacon in his mouth. His sense of humor and smile are just as intoxicating as his touch. I could seriously just stare at him for hours, and never grow tired of it.

What the hell? Where did that come from?

I just shake my head at his absurdity and the random thought I just had, focusing on my own plate of delicious smelling food. I smirk when I see that my own plate has a mountain-sized pile of bacon, but instead of eggs, there are two pancakes covered in butter and syrup.

I ferociously tear into the pancakes and moan, when I pop a butter-soaked piece in my mouth. V stiffens next to me, and I can feel his stare, as I take another bite.

“Where were the pancakes?” Ginny asks her brother. “I didn’t see those up there.”

Ratchet huffs and just stares a hole through Voodoo, who only smiles in return.

“Must have run out,” V says with a mouth full of bacon.

“Suck up,” Ratchet mutters, under his breath.

V exchanges another look with Ratchet, before making his plate and fork his priority.

“There she is. Hello, Presley,” I hear from behind me, which makes me spin on my chair turning to find the person responsible. The Viking looking man, who tried to deny my entry into the club on our first day, is shuffling his way towards us. He stops just to my left, and steps way too close into my comfort zone.

“You ready to trade V in for a younger, more experienced keeper, yet?” he quips. V goes rigid, when he notices how close he is to me. “Name’s Slider.”

“And I’m not interested. Why don’t you slide on out of here and away from me?”

“Oh come on, doll face. You’d have more fun with me than him. I wouldn’t put a bunch of computers up on a pedestal, if I had you around.”

“Back off, fucker,” V growls behind me. Slider jerks in response to V and jolts around me to get to him.

“Not in this lifetime, Slider,” Ratchet warns. “Why don’t you get out to the garage and get started on waxing bikes? Mine seems to be a little dusty. You’ve been slacking off.”

Ratchet’s low-voice insult doesn’t go unnoticed to Slider. It doesn’t take a doctorate degree to see that there’s bad blood between these two men. Not to mention the fact that V is seething himself.

Slider’s glare bores into V then Ratchet, before retreating back. I don’t remember prospects being this high-spirited back when I was a kid. My father would have never stood for such insubordination. Had Slider said something like that to his face, he would have never been seen again. Respect is a major principle of a motorcycle club, and I fear that it was one hard lesson that would be taken out of Slider’s hide, if he didn’t learn it fast enough.

I watch as V’s heated stare doesn’t leave the back of Slider’s head, until he disappears out of the room. The rest of breakfast is done in an awkward mix of silence and brooding alpha male.

“Voodoo wants me to look at pictures today,” Ginny interjects to break up the silence. “Would you, uh, come with me?”

She looks at me with somber eyes. Seeing the faces of those men affected me deeply, so I knew it was going to be even harder on her. It was also only a natural reaction on her part to want me there to comfort her, as a therapist and mostly as a friend.

“Of course, I will.”

Ginny’s sad façade cracks just slightly, as she finishes the last bite of her breakfast. “You ready?” she asks Voodoo.

“Whenever you are, Little G.”

“That’s not her name, ass hat,” Ratchet fires back at the nickname Voodoo called her.

“I like it,” Ginny adds.

Ratchet rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything else. He loves his sister enough to stow whatever distaste he has, in another one of his brothers, branding his sister with her own nickname.

Voodoo shoves off the stool obviously wanting us all to do the same. Ginny wipes her face off with a napkin, before popping up from the table herself. I do the same, and the three of us walk to V’s office. I was a little surprised that Ratchet didn’t follow, but maybe he has something else to do.

It takes about two hours for Ginny to make it through all the photos. Knowing how important it was, she took her time. I was proud of her for only squeezing my hand twice, as she forced her mind back to the darkness of her past.

In addition to the two men I had picked out, Ginny added six more to the pile that she had seen prior to the safe house, Gio being one of them. Her body trembled at the sight of him, and even as I pleaded with her to step away, she didn’t. Ginny wanted to end this part of her life, and she was putting herself through mental hell to do it. She still has a long way to go, but this also showed me how much she’s grown as a person.

After we finish, Voodoo texts someone on his phone, and Ratchet soon arrives to collect Ginny. She needs time to process all of this, and I make sure to tell her that I will stop by to check on her later, which earns me a semi-fake smile.

I linger in the office, as V collects random wires, circuits, and some different pieces of a computer that I couldn’t even begin to tell you the proper name for.

“Spring cleaning?”

V pauses with a slew of cords of various sizes in his hands.

“You could say that. There’s an electronics recycling drop off this weekend, and I want to free up some space.”

He shuffles over to the box on his desk, where he begins to pile the junk, and shoves in the fistful in his hand. While his back is turned, I notice the familiar end of what looks to be a bundle of phone chargers hanging over the side.

Shit. He might have the kind of cord I need for my phone.

Guilt pangs me, as I consider stealing it from him. I force myself to think about the situation in a different way. He said it himself that this was trash. Taking it would just be my own way of recycling.

“Be right back,” he tells me, as he heads out the door. “Need another box for the old DVD burners.”

I pause, waiting to make sure he isn’t coming back, before I dart for the box. A few different sizes of phone chargers lay right on top, and I grab them, coiling them as tightly as I can and stuffing them into my box. I know he might notice, so I shift around a few more of the wires to make it less obvious.

He steps back in just as I return to my place. My heart stops as he peers into the box, but he goes back to loading up the next box without a word.

“Almost done.” He tells me, as he shoves a large metal box on the top of a very full box. “Let me get these out to the garage with the other recycling shit, and we can play some more Mario Kart.”

As much as I want to say yes, I can’t. Mario Kart isn’t what I had in mind, knowing the pilfered cords in my pocket might just bring Beauregard back to me.

“I actually think I may head back to my room and lie down. I’ve been battling a headache since I woke up, and I think helping Ginny only made it worse. Rain check?” I lie. His smile falls.

“Sure. You know where to find me.” The disappointment is clear as day in his voice.

Now who’s the asshole.

I spin on my heels, and trudge out of the room with guilt weighing heavily on me. I stole from him to facilitate my need to speak to Beauregard, despite the growing feelings I’m starting to have for V. A man who is real and right in front of me.

So this is what it feels like to be a complete, train wreck.

Not a fan. Definitely not a fucking fan.