“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
After getting out of the shower, we fuck again. She’s just putting her t-shirt on when her cell rings.
“Leave it.” I kiss her neck, trying to convince her to get naked again.
“I can’t.”
I nip her earlobe. Her cell stops ringing and she turns to me, kissing my lips softly, my fingers spearing her damp hair to try and deepen the kiss.
Her cell rings again, ruining the moment. I swear to fuck, if she answers that…
She breaks the kiss, reaching for her cell. God damn it, she answered.
“Hello?” She stands as she speaks to someone on the other end. Something shifts in her face, the flushed pink cheeks she just had are gone.
“Daria?” I stand up in front of her, touching her shoulder and she shrugs me off. “Baby?”
“I... I have to go,” she stutters. Who the fuck was on the phone? “I can't do this.”
“Where the fuck are you going?” My temper is getting the best of me. She ignores me and storms out. I race after her in only my boxers, grabbing her bicep, probably too forcefully. “Answer me.”
“Get your hands off me.” She looks down at my hand then back up at my face. “Let me go, Striker. Please.” Her face softens and completely changes. Her eyes gloss over, tears filling them.
What the hell is going on?
“Not until you tell me what got you spooked.”
Dad walks over, looking from Daria’s face to my hand around her arm. “Let her go, son.”
“Striker, please. I can't do this right now. I need to go.”
Releasing her arm from my grip, the look she gives me is one of thanks and she leans up to kiss my cheek. I watch her retreating back, wondering what the fuck that was.
“Everything okay?” Dad asks.
“Who the fuck knows?” Shaking my head, I turn and come face to face with Jess. “I'm not in the mood for your ball busters today, princess.”
“Her grandad is dying, asshole,” she snaps as I round her. I stop in my tracks. “That's where she's going. He's in a nursing home. The one I work in. I've been his nurse for three years.” She begins walking away, obviously going to be with her best friend.
“She'll need you more than ever, Striker,” Dad says. “Get dressed and go be with her.”
Fuck. Don’t I feel like a grade A asshole?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Daria
Getting that phone call from the care home broke my heart, and the way Striker acted wasn’t shocking, but I did get scared when he grabbed my arm. I should have told him, but all I could think about was getting to my grandpa.
I look at my grandpa sleeping as I hold his hand. “Mo cridhe.” He whispers my nickname. A name he’s always called me since I can remember. He says it’s Scottish Gaelic, meaning my heart.
“I’m here, Grandpa.” Bringing his hand up, I place it on top of mine.
“Promise me you’ll be happy when I’m gone. I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”
“Grandpa, I will be sad. You’re my best friend and my rock.”
“Cridhe, you need to live your life the way you want. Be the strong woman I know you can be.” His eyes close before I get to answer him.
I held his hand, just staring at him for a half hour. Striker came in and apologized to me for the way he acted. Grandpa managed to open his eyes long enough for me to introduce them to each other. Striker asked if I wanted anything to eat, but I can’t bear to eat anything right now. Knowing in my heart, as much as it hurts, Grandpa hasn’t got long left.
“It’s okay, Grandpa. You can go be with Grandma, now. Live out your forever up there.” I kiss his forehead.
“Pumpkin?” I hear the name I haven’t been called in over ten years quietly behind me. My back straightens and the hairs on my arms stand on end. I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see her.
“Pumpkin.” His voice is louder than before. Squeezing my eyes closed, I’m met with only happy childhood memories of me and him dancing around the kitchen, eating cookies while Denise was out getting her hair and nails done with her snobby friends. A lone tear falls from my eye as the memory gets more intense. “Daria, sweetheart.”
A hand touches my shoulder, causing me to jump and move out of reach. Turning against my better judgment, I come face to face with my dad. He looks a lot older and greyer than before. I hate the mixture of feelings that hit me. The little girl in me wants to run to him and throw my arms around him, while the teenager side, the side he abandoned, wants to slap him and tell him to get away from me.
“You look beautiful.” He tries to approach me, but stops when I point at him.
“No. No you do not get to come anywhere near me. You don’t get to speak to me. I don’t want to see or speak to you. Get out.”
“Pumpkin, I’m not going anywhere. He’s my dad as well as your grandpa. I have every right to be here. I’m his next of kin.”
“Next of kin?” I laugh. “How many times have you come to see him? How long after the phone call did you have sneak out away from the wicked stepmother?”
“Denise and I divorced three years ago.”
“Good for you. Took you long enough.”
“Pumpkin, can’t we talk about this?”
Striker chooses this moment to come back into the room.
“They didn’t have any double chocolate chip cookies so I grabbed a plain choc chip one instead.” Looking up, his face goes from smiling to angry in a nanosecond. “What the fuck do you want?”
“I’m visiting my dying father,” Dad snaps.
“Out. Both of you.” Jess comes in to save me, checking over grandpa. His breathing has become shallower.
“No chance. I’m not leaving. I want to say goodbye to my dad.” A hint of Dad’s Scottish accent shines through.
“Either sit and be quiet or leave.”
Striker sits beside me and Dad sits the opposite side of me. I can feel his eyes on me. I can’t stand it, but I refuse to leave my grandpa’s side because of him.
***
“Baby?” Striker knocks on my bedroom door. Hearing his voice makes the lump in my throat bigger. I can’t thank him enough for the past few days since Grandpa took his last breath. He’s dressed in a black tailored suit, looking hot as hell. “Baby, the car is here.” He kneels in front of me as I hug the pink bear close to my chest.
“I’m not ready.” I shake my head as the tears fall freely down my cheeks. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“Baby, he would want you to be there. To hear those beautiful words.” He takes my hand in his. “Remember all those happier times you spent together? Those memories will override the unhappy ones.” He wipes the continuous flow of tears tumbling down my cheeks. I nod in agreement and he offers me a smile, kissing my forehead. “I love you.”
***
I look at the coffin in front of me and my heart races faster than a NASCAR on the final lap. I have no clue what the priest is saying, nor am I aware of anyone around me. I feel numb apart from Striker’s hand holding mine, giving me the strength I need to get through today.
“Daria has a few words she would like to share with everyone.”
“Do you want me to come up with you?” Striker asks. I shake my head. I need to do this.
Standing up on the stage, I look out at the congregation. He knew a lot of people, but did they really know him?
“Some of you may know Nicholas Elliot Denver Snr. as a go-getter, a man that knew what he wanted and would do whatever it took to get it.” I smile. “But to me, he was my hero. My best friend. My confidante and my biggest supporter. He loved to tell stories of when he was growing up, back in Glasgow, Scotland, when he was in the army, and the day he met my Grandma when she was on vacation there. It was supposed to be a summer fling, but Grandma moved there. She loved him and wanted to be with him, des
pite her father hating him. In my Grandpa’s words, he only hated him because he was jealous he could drink him under the table. Nothing was going to keep him away from his hottie.” I laugh, shaking my head at the number of times I heard him say she was the hottest piece of ass he had ever laid his eyes on. “They were married after three months of dating, welcomed two sons; Tomas and Nicholas jnr.” I glance down at Dad, whose eyes are red and bloodshot. “They moved to the US when my great-grandma became extremely ill and stayed here ever since.” I take a deep breath. A tear drops onto my paper smudging the ink.
“Earlier, I was sitting in my room. I didn't want to come here today. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not until someone convinced that I had to.” I look to Striker who’s smiling a little at me. Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath. “I couldn't imagine my future without you in it.” A smile pulls at my lips. “Every problem I had, you saw the best in the situation and helped me through it, especially with Emily. When you died, a part of me went with you. I didn't know how hard it would be to lose someone I loved more than my own life until you died, Grandpa.” Tears cascade down my cheeks. “Even though your body is no longer with us, your soul remains in the hearts of every single one of us that loved you. I miss you, Gramps. I'm lost in this world you left me in. Right now, there’s only pain and an empty space in my heart. But I'm not going through this alone.” I look down at Striker, Emily, Jess, Nico, Jake, and his dad. My eyes land on my own dad. My heart breaks even more seeing how this has affected him. I walk down in front of the coffin, placing my hand on top, and lean down to kiss the top of it. “I love you, Gramps.” I step down to take my place in the front row. My dad tries to hug me, but I side step him. Remember your promise to Grandpa. Make amends with your dad.
Not yet.
Striker takes my hand in his as Father John leads us out to the graveyard to bury my grandpa.
“Nicholas and Daria would like to invite you all back to Xanders’ to share stories and memories of Nicholas Snr.” Father John closes the funeral. “Daria, your grandfather would be so proud of you today. I’m only a call away if you ever need to talk.” Taking my hand in his, he kisses my cheek. I’ve known Father John since I was a baby. He refused to marry Jake and me as we were too young in his eyes.
“Thank you, Father. For everything.” I swallow past the permanent lump lodged in my throat.
“Anytime.” He pats my hand as he walks away to talk to the other mourners and friends of grandpa’s.
“Pumpkin.” I turn to see Dad’s bloodshot blue eyes. “Pumpkin, can we grab a coffee at some point?”
Remember.
“I’ll call your office.” I nod, turning to walk away, but stop when he calls to me.
“I love you, pumpkin.”
I need a drink. A large one.
***
I wake up to someone making patterns on my back. I turn, opening my eyes, but quickly close them again when the sunlight hits me. My head is thumping like I have a thousand little men drilling away inside.
“Morning, beautiful.” That voice first thing in the morning does things to me. We stayed at the clubhouse last night after I went on another solo drinking session and totally embarrassed myself. Jake took two weeks off work to spend some quality time with Emily, so she’s been staying with him.
“Morning.”
“This piece is beautiful.” He continues tracing my tattoo. “How long did it take?”
“Um, two sittings.”
“What does it mean?”
“The butterfly symbolizes the change and hope in my life. The Celtic symbol at the top symbolizes my freedom to do whatever I want. No-one to tell me what I can or can't do.” I close my eyes, thinking about how different my life would be without Emily, and still with my stepmom.
“What happened with your stepmom?” I raise a questioning eyebrow. “I’m guessing that’s what this tattoo is about. Being freed from her control.”
“Less talk, more action, Mr. Xanders.” I climb on top of him, refusing to talk about her and put a damper on my mood.
“Baby, you can't always distract me with sex.” He chuckles, placing his hands on my hips.
“Oh really?” I grind my hips. “Tell that to your dick.”
Fucking him to rid all thoughts of my stepmom and my life before Emily is fast becoming a habit. An enjoyable habit.
You’ll have to tell him eventually.
Eventually, yes, but not right now.
“You know what I find weird?” I whisper against his chest as his fingertips run up and down my spine soothingly, reveling in the afterglow.
“You dancing on tables in front of the prospect and grinding on Dad?” I bury my face into his chest, totally embarrassed by my actions.
“Oh, God. How am I going to face him?” My voice is muffled.
“Just as normal. He understands, baby.”
“Do you understand though?” I lift my head to look at him. He's staring up at the roof. “Striker? You understand, right?”
“Of course, baby. But if you feel like that again, please don't reach for the bottle. Come to me or Dad. Or, hell, even go to Nico.”
“I promise.” I kiss his pec. “But back to what I was going say.” I sigh, linking my fingers with his. “I feel totally safe with you, no matter what has happened in the past between us. You're the one that has made me feel the safest. I can be myself around you, and I don't need to look over my shoulder every second when I'm around you.”
“I will always keep you safe. You have my word. Nothing will ever happen to you and Emily ever again.”
“I know. That's one of the reasons I love you.”
“Oh, yeah? What else?”
“Well, the main reason I love you is...” I bite my lip, pushing my hand below the sheets towards my goal. “This.” I cup his cock in my hand, causing him to groan.
***
After my bed gymnastics with Striker, I go in search of Barron, needing to apologize to him for my actions two weeks ago after my grandpa’s funeral.
“Um... Barron. Can I talk to you?” I knock on his door. He nods at Joe to leave him be.
“Daria.” He nods as he passes me. I smile my greeting, too nervous to say anything. I know he was one of the ones who was with Barron when I started grinding on him.
“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” A smile tugs at my mouth. Ever since he found out about me and Emily, he's treated us like we’re his own. I start to relax a little. “You can sit down you know.” He laughs, and I edge closer and sit opposite him.
“Um, I don't know where to start with this.” I pick at my nails, trying to think of how to begin.
“Sweetheart, you can tell me anything.”
“I'm sorry I stripped in front of you and started grinding on you. It was stupid and wrong. I apologize. Tell me how I can make it up to you.”
He raises an eyebrow then smirks. “Well, there's one thing you can do for me.” He stands, walking to where I'm sitting, leaning close to my ear. “Give me another show.”
What? My eyes widen and my eyebrows are almost to my hairline.
“Come on, Daria. I haven't had a young thing show me some action in quite some time.”
“No! What the hell, Barron? You're my man's old man.” I jump to my feet and back up.
To my surprise, he doubles over, laughing his ass off. Striker walks in, laughing too. I look between the two. The bastards
“I'm sorry, baby. We had to.” Striker tries to calm his laugh.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart. We had to poke fun at you for that display. That's the most action I've had in a very long time. So, thank you.”
“You're both assholes!” I push past them.
Dickheads. I'll show them! Game on, Xanders. Game on.
“Baby, come on. It was a joke.” Striker walks after me, still laughing.
“Fuck you, Striker.” I flip him the bird and drive off.
Back home, I pull the s
uitcase down from the shelf and start packing Striker’s stuff.
“Baby!” I hear him shout as I continue putting all his jeans and t-shirts in the case. We still haven’t found Brad, so Striker’s moved into my house for now until he’s found. He seems to have dropped off the face of the planet. “Babe? What are you doing?” I don't say anything but continue to pack. He grabs my hand to stop me.
“Get your hands off me.” I snatch my hand out of his grasp, using all the training I learned in acting class to my full advantage.
“Baby. It was a stupid joke.”
“At my expense, Striker!” I shout. “You made me feel like one of your whores.”
“Daria, please. It was stupid and now I’m beginning to regret ever thinking it was a good idea.” He grabs my shoulders, turning me to look at him. “But please, don't let this ruin us. Please.” Looking into his eyes, I kind of feel bad that I'm doing this, but he can't mess with me and expect me to sit back and take it.
You do with everything else.
“I'm sorry. I need you to leave.” I turn my back to him.
“Daria...”
“Leave.”
I hear his footsteps walking away and the door click closed. Shit, I actually feel like I've broken his heart.
I had to go for a run to clear my head then Nico text, asking me what happened as Striker has been quiet all afternoon. So, I run in the direction of the clubhouse.
Three Strikes (Demons Disciples MC Book 1) Page 19