Chapter Fourteen

Jasmine

 

 

 

 

I wake to soft sheets and the first rays of the morning sun trickling through the blinds. I try to twist to see the time but find a heavy arm draped over me, pinning me to the bed. Fear invades me as my body goes stiff. My chest heaves and it feels like I’m suffocating, even though I know I’m not.

“Hey, it’s okay,” a voice whispers in my ear. My body strangely relaxes, and the arm lifts off of me.

I look around, remembering where I am. I turn toward the man next to me, the man who I can't figure out for the life of me. He is so different from anyone I've ever met. I was ashamed to tell him my story and show my weakness to him, but he listened without comment. He didn't look down on me. I found no judgment in his eyes. He eased my anxiety with gentleness.

A gentle loving touch.

As much as my mind is at war, he calms me. The constant anxiety is held back before it starts to build, the indecision that usually eats away at me before I can even start my day is somewhat alleviated. Each time I think about making a choice for myself and Dylan’s voice sounds in my ear, Cutter is there.

The bed dips and I look over to see Cutter standing at his dresser. His bare back is sculpted with muscle and a large tattoo of the club logo. His muscles contract as he pulls a black T-shirt on over his head and when he turns around he smiles, catching me watching him. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. His chest is decorated with tattoos, and I can’t help but notice that he is much more defined than Dylan ever was.

“I have to go head over to the clubhouse for church, but Lucy is gonna come by and hang out for a bit.”

“You’re going to church?” I look around for a clock. “What time is it?”

He walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. “It’s almost eleven. We haven’t really gotten into all of this, but what do you know about MCs?”

My face must give away my confusion because he sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

"Okay well, you should at least know the basics. MC is short for motorcycle club. Long story short, we are a family. There are different positions in the club. Tracie, from the club, she’s the vice president’s old lady—that means she’s his woman. Lucy is with Whip. He’s our sergeant at arms. I’m the treasurer. You haven’t met our president or his girl yet. Church is a meeting for us. Only brothers attend. I’d be lying to you if I said that everything we do is legal. If you choose to stay around after we get this mess figured out, you need to know that. I can't talk to you about club stuff, ever.”

I nod my head, although, I don't think I've processed even half of what he is telling me.

There’s a knock at the door. "I'll grab that. It's probably Lucy. I put all the clothes from yesterday in this dresser last night. Feel free to—" He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Put on a pair of black pants and T-shirt. You pick the color of the shirt."

He walks out of the room before I can respond. In the dresser drawers I find the pants and an array of T-shirts. There must be one in every color. My eyes move from one to the other, again and again.

Whatever you pick it won't be right. You’ll never please him just like you couldn’t please me.

With great effort I swallow hard, trying to rid myself of the fear coursing through me. Things with Dylan started off like this. I’d wear an outfit that he said looked terrible on me. Every time I made a choice it was wrong, so eventually I’d let him pick something.

I blindly reach for a shirt and end up with a light blue one. I hope this is good. Opening the first drawer I find bras, and I can't help but smile when they are all the same color.

No choice.

I finish getting dressed and try to finger brush my hair the best that I can before turning and looking in the mirror.

Your ass looks huge. Those clothes would look much better minus ten pounds.

“Shut up!” I blurt out.

The bedroom door opens and Cutter sticks his head in. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m coming.”

I move to walk past him but he grabs my hand. “You look beautiful, good choice.”

The smile on my face is huge. “Thanks.”

With just that small gesture, he gives me confidence and pride that I haven’t felt for as long as I can remember. When I walk into the living room, Lucy is there. In her tight jeans and a shirt with the same symbol that’s on Cutter’s jacket, she’s stunning. She’s wearing makeup that makes all of her features stand out, and her light brown hair is streaked with a bright red.

“Hey, girl.” She smiles at me and I return the sentiment.

"All right, I gotta get out of here. Luce, you need anything, text one of the prospects."

“I know the drill.” She winks at him.

I turn to him and an awkwardness sets in. “Good-bye.”

His hand rests on my hip as his head dips low next to my ear. "Just breathe. I didn't tell them all the whole story. Have fun."

My heart beats faster with him being this close and I'm not sure which of my many emotions is causing it. Cutter makes me nervous, curious, anxious and excited all at once.

"Oh, and if I'm not back by lunch Lucy is going to order takeout for you guys."

He places a kiss behind my ear and I freeze.

I didn’t expect the contact and I’m still not too sure how to deal with it. When you’re so used to harsh and rough, something gentle feels foreign and scary.

“See you ladies in a little bit.” He grabs his keys off a hook by the door and then he’s gone.

“So, any idea what you want to do?” I turn to see Lucy looking at me.

I shrug, not really knowing what people do when they are hanging out. The only person I’ve been around for four years has been Dylan. No friends, no family, no one to talk to. After we were married for the first year he had successfully isolated me from everyone.

She moves closer to me and my breath seizes. “I have an idea. How about we eat a bunch of junk food, watch trash TV and I can answer any questions you might have?”

My breath returns with a whoosh. She’s being kind, thoughtful. There are likely a million other things a woman as beautiful as Lucy could be doing on a day like today, but she’s chosen to spend time with me. Not only that, she wants to do something that’ll make me happy. My eyes prick with tears. “I’d like that.”

I walk into the kitchen and she follows. “Did you want me to make you something? I’m not sure what Cutter has.” I want to impress her. I want her to like me.

“No, no cooking today. This is going to be a lazy day.” She walks over and opens the drawer full of takeout menus without any hesitation. She must know this place well. “Best junk food day stuff is never homemade.” She looks over the menu. “How about nachos, wings, and some cheese fries?”

“That sounds good.” At least she didn’t ask me what I wanted.

She pulls out her phone and calls the restaurant. While she is on the phone I walk back to the living room. I pass a leather jacket hanging on one of the chairs and can’t help but stare at it.

The same symbol is on the jacket and it says “Property of Whip.” I reach out my fingers and stroke the smooth leather.

“It’s called a property jacket.” Her voice sounds behind me and I jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Property? The word has a distinct meaning with me but a part of me feels like it’s different for her.

She opens the fridge and sticks her head inside. "So has Cutter given you the basic MC info? The guys usually have some speech they give that is no help and leaves you with more questions than answers." She grabs two cans of soda and kicks the fridge door shut with her heel, carrying the drinks over to the couch and sitting down.

I join her and tuck my feet under me, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She is just so confident, so comfortable in her own skin. I’m in awe. It takes me a moment to answer. “He told me a few things, I don’t know much about it.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I figured. Do you want to know more? I don't want to bore you if it isn't something you're interested in."

“No, I’d like to know more about it.”

"Okay, that"—she points to the leather jacket—"is a property patch. When a brother decides he wants you, he claims you. It's an honor in the club because they don't do it without putting thought into it. After they claim you, you get a property patch, which basically lets all the brothers in the club and everyone outside of it know that you're off limits." She blows out a big breath. "When you're with a brother you're referred to as their old lady. Most of us hate the term, but it's actually a form of respect."

“Cutter mentioned that term.” I laugh at the fact that they call her an old lady.

She leans forward and grabs the remote, flicking through the channels, not stopping on a single one for more than a few seconds. I take a sip of the soda, coughing when the bubbles tickle the inside of my mouth. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything other than water. I forget the simple things. We sit in comfortable silence for a while: Lucy trying to find something to watch, me sipping at my drink. She eventually lands on a channel and tosses the remote back on the table.

“How you doing?” Her head tilts as she studies me.

I take a breath, part of me not sure how to answer, and the other half not wanting to burst this bubble or “normal” that has formed around us.

“Sometimes something as simple as saying the words out loud can help. I know we don't know each other that well, but I can relate to what you’re going through more than you know. When I came to the club, I was just as lost as you are right now.” Her hand runs through her hair and her eyes seem distant. “The men who hurt you the most aren’t always the ones who mark your body—it’s the ones who mark your mind. Only way to get those assholes out of your head forever is to push them out. You can't do it alone. Support is important because people can guide you when you’re learning how to become whole again. No one can fix this for you, but you. That doesn’t mean people won’t try to help you along the way.”

I take in what she’s saying. Can I become whole again? Can I be like her? Strong and happy? Right now, it feels like that’s so far out of reach, there’s no point in trying.

I look up at her and when I meet her gaze it’s like she sees me. No—she sees straight through me. Sees through the walls I’ve built up over the years. With that one glance she makes me feel like I can expose my soul to her. Like sharing some of what’s going on inside my head might help.

“I don’t know if I can do it. His voice . . . it’s always there. I hear it with every move I make.”

She shifts over on the couch, coming closer to take my hand in hers, and in that small act, I find strength. “I’ve lived like a robot for so long. I had my schedule, my expectations, and I did everything in my power to meet them. Being here with Cutter, having him not want anything from me . . . it feels so strange.”

She nods. "Each day will get easier, though. Cutter is a good man, and he’s willing to help you get through it."

"I can see him getting frustrated with me, and it scares me," I confess.

Her hand squeezes mine. “I get it. Frustration, disappointment, they’ve all led to pain for you before. As hard as it is to accept, his frustration isn’t with you but with what’s been done to you.”

Someone knocks on the door and Lucy gets up to answer it.

Sitting alone on the couch, my life in pieces all around me, I try to digest the things I have learned today about the club and Cutter. I try to accept that there might be a way I can get better, even though it seems impossible.

“Shit.”

I hear her curse from the kitchen before she runs back to the couch to get her phone.

“Get me Cutter or Whip, now.” She says into the phone and a pit opens up in my stomach.

This can’t be good.