The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  At the mention of Linc’s father, I recalled the years he spent struggling to uncover the truth. No one in North Carolina knew his father was the former president of my uncle’s charter and it took him years to come clean to me. Of course, I never told a soul and kept his secret. I stood by his side as he struggled to find his place in his father’s world. I think what consumed him most was that he knew so little about his dad. He waited for the day to come when someone, somewhere would throw him a crumb and reveal something about the man who made him but, that day never came. It was like the man died and took any information about him to his grave.

  “Hey,” he mutters, dropping his keys onto the credenza. “Anyone home?”

  “No,” I answer, swallowing another mouthful of tacos. It would be easy to dismiss him. All I have to do is turn my attention to the television and pretend he doesn’t exist. Do I do that? Nope. “I made tacos,” I blurt, lifting the plate from my lap as evidence.

  He brings his chair to a stop and raises an eyebrow.

  “Are you declaring a truce?”

  Was I?

  “Maybe,” I decide.

  “It’s well over a week,” he points out.

  It’s been two weeks since I arrived in Brooklyn. One week longer than I originally intended on staying.

  “Thought you would’ve been gone by now,” he adds.

  “As part of a truce, you know you’re not allowed to throw shit in my face, right?”

  “I’m not,” he argues. “I was just wondering if you still being here means you’ve decided to stick around for a while.”

  “I’m thinking about it,” I admit. My gaze follows him as he rounds the couch and pauses in front of me.

  “Move over,” he says, as he drops his feet off the foot plates. Quickly, I move the plate to the table and start to get up.

  “Do you need help?”

  “Sit,” he demands, gripping the arms of the chair. My lips press together as I watch him pull himself out of the chair. Bending his bad leg, he uses the chair as a crutch and balances on his good one. Hoping three steps to the couch, he drops onto the cushions next to me and turns, delivering a wink.

  “Show off,” I tease, unable to hide the smile. “I’m proud of you,” I add, genuinely meaning it.

  “Thanks,” he replies. Leaning forward he takes the plate of tacos and places it on the couch between us. Helping himself to one, he takes a bite and I watch him close his eyes, savoring the taste. After another bite, he notices the television, and a chuckle escapes his lips.

  “These broads are a trip,” he says, glancing back at me.

  “You still have a crush on Blanche?”

  “Ah, it’s a toss-up,” he says. “Sophia has grown on me too.”

  Taking a bite of my taco, I feel his gaze penetrate through me and I turn.

  “What?”

  “Your eyes are better,” he points out as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I fucking hated seeing you like that.”

  “Linc—”

  “It’s true. I’m not saying it to make you feel uncomfortable,” he says, dropping his hand. “Any man in his right mind would be bothered by the sight of a woman with two black eyes.”

  Figuring he’s right, I don’t argue and watch as he scratches his jaw. I know there is more he wants to say but struggles to bite his tongue. Eventually, his curiosity wins and, he speaks his mind.

  “I overheard you and Wolf talking about it when you first got here. He asked you if Shady was the one responsible—”

  “He wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, I heard that part too. I guess I’m more curious as to why your uncle would assume he was.”

  For a moment I consider lying to him but think better of it.

  “After you left, Shady, and I got close,” I admit. His jaw clenches tight as the words leave my lips and he turns his head. Knowing I don’t owe him any explanations doesn’t lessen the guilt I feel, and I battle with my conscience. I’m sure he’s had his fair share of women after me and I bet he doesn’t feel a lick of regret or the need to explain himself.

  “So, you slept with him,” he comments, leaving no room for question.

  “We were both in a bad place.”

  “Let me guess you were lonely.”

  “Don’t do that,” I warn. “Don’t make it like I use my loneliness as a crutch to slip into bed with random men.”

  Sighing, he turns his eyes back to me. The silence stretches uncomfortably between us before he reaches out to touch my knee.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he resolves. “I suspected you would move on. I even wanted you to but, I didn’t want it to be him,” he admits. “Anyone but him.”

  I didn’t feel anything for Shady. He knew I was using him but, he was too busy going through his own shit to care. It was convenient and a distraction to my broken heart.

  “Why?” I whisper.

  “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I guess I wanted more for you. More than I could give you and more than I knew he could give you.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Linc. We were never serious,” I explain.

  “And, the guy who hit you, what about him? Was that serious?”

  After a while, sleeping with Shady became redundant. I realized I wasn’t feeling a physical loss and sex was only providing me with a false sense of comfort. When it was over I wasn’t only miserable but, I was shameful too and I didn’t like feeling that way. It was the driving force behind my decision to leave the Satan’s Knights clubhouse and I soon got a job repairing motorcycles on the outskirts of Raleigh. That’s where I met Cash.

  He was a member of another club and like Linc, he liked to gamble. All the things I thought Linc and I would someday do together, I started doing with Cash. We rode together, played together and to anyone watching we were happy. Naively, I thought I could learn to care for him. That he could fill the physical and emotional void but, I quickly learned he was a cheap imitation of the first man I loved.

  A stand-in for the only man I ever loved.

  “To him, it was,” I finally answer.

  “Couldn’t have been too serious for him if he was able to put his hands on you,” he claims.

  “Desperation makes you do stupid things,” I counter. “I guess he thought if he roughed me up I would stay.”

  “So, you broke it off with him and he punched you.”

  Cringing, I turn my head.

  “Something like that,” I agree. “I hate that it happened, that I let it happen,” I admit, looking back at him. “I never wanted to be that girl, and it wasn’t until I stared at myself in the mirror and saw the bruises that I realized how much of myself I lost losing you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he rasps.

  “No, don’t be,” I reply. “I should’ve never given you that power over me. No girl should ever forget who she is because she fell in love. Even after it goes bad, a person should still grow from love. The experiences, the lessons, and the mistakes are supposed to strengthen someone not tear them down. For what it’s worth, I think I shined most loving you and when you left, it was my job to keep shining. You didn’t fail me, I failed myself.”

  “I did fail you, Pinky. I failed us both.”

  He couldn’t help his lack of feelings the same way I couldn’t control the depths of mine. That doesn’t make him a failure. Not in my eyes but maybe I was missing something. Or maybe, I wanted to be missing something. Maybe, I wanted him to tell me I had it all wrong.

  “How did you fail us?” I whisper the question.

  Leaning into me, he lays his hand on my knee again and stares at my mouth silently. My breath hitches as his other hand moves behind me. Threading his fingers through my hair, Linc cups the back of my neck and pulls me closer to him. The tip of his nose rubs against mine and my eyes fall shut, preparing myself for his mouth. A whimper escapes the back of my throat when his lips land on my forehead and my eyes flutter open just as he pulls away.

 
“Stick around long enough and maybe you’ll find out,” he rasps.

  A sensible girl would yield to his dare. She’d remind herself of the nights she spent crying over him and how broken she was when he left her. She’d remember the anger she felt when another man broke her heart because the man who owned it was too much of a pussy to do it himself.

  I am not a sensible girl.

  I am a fucking idiot who doesn’t think of any of those things. Instead, I try to picture what it would be like if I stuck around. If I answered the dog walker ad.

  “I’m thinking about it,” I admit, pulling my lower lip between my teeth. I reach for the discarded newspaper and show him the page of ads I circled. “But, I’m not sure I can get on board with being a professional dog walker and I don’t trust myself to be a waitress.”

  Taking the newspaper from my hands, he scans the jobs before folding it. Leaning forward, he places it on the coffee table and turns back to me.

  “If you want to stay and need a job, the club has a garage. We don’t fix a lot of bikes, mainly cars, and commercial trucks. We also have a longstanding contract with a bus company so there are always a couple of those in the lot that need repairs. It’s a steady gig and all you would have to do is say the word and you’re in.”

  “It’s like that, huh?” I question, diverting my eyes to the television. As another episode of the Golden Girls begins, I wonder if I can really stay here. If I even want to and how I’d feel making my home so close to Linc. I’d eventually get my own place and at least that would put some space between us. But, he won’t be in that chair forever. Every day he is making strides, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s back to riding. He’ll throw himself into the thick of the club and working for the Satan’s Knights, I’m sure I’ll run into him a lot. Too much.

  Still, part of me really wants to stay. I like being close to my cousins and as much of a grump as my uncle is, I love being able to see him whenever I want. For the first time since Linc left me, I feel at home and to my surprise, much of it has nothing to do with him. It’s being surrounded by my family and not feeling like a burden to my mother.

  “It’s just an option. The dog walker thing sounds promising too,” he teases.

  My eyes find his and he winks at me.

  “If you’re lucky, it’ll be a poodle with a bright pink tail.”

  “You remember,” I say softly.

  “Of course I remember,” he replies.

  I wasn’t expecting him to bring up our five-year plan. I figured he had forgotten all about the stupid dreams we foolishly forged. I spent two years telling myself he never wanted any of those things. Like his love was a lie so was the plan we made. Sadly, I still held out hope. For what I’m not sure since it’s five years later and I don’t have a pink haired poodle.

  Taking advantage of our temporary truce, Linc props his good leg on top of the coffee table and spreads his arms across the back of the couch, settling in. I don’t object and silently we watch the television. Uncle Al never comes home and sometime later I close my eyes.

  “Kelly,” Linc whispers as he touches a hand to my shoulder.

  “Come, you’re falling asleep.”

  Too tired to open both eyes, I peak at him through one. No longer beside me, I find him back in his chair, pointing to his lap.

  “Come,” he says again. This time he reaches for my hand. Giving it a gentle tug, I open both my eyes. I don’t know why but, I continue to hold his hand and when he urges me into his lap, I go willingly. Like the day in Coney Island, he takes me for a different kind of ride. It’s not one either of us are used to but, it feels as right as all those rides we took on his Harley. Closing my eyes, I wrap my arms around his neck like I used to wrap them around his midsection. He wheels me into his room and orders me onto the bed.

  There is no sexual innuendo.

  It’s just a soft command.

  A plea for peace.

  I settle under the covers and watch him lift himself out of the chair. Grimacing as he limps three steps, he falls back onto the mattress. The urge to offer my assistance beckons but, I ignore it and soon he’s lying comfortably next to me. I don’t curl into his body and he doesn’t ask me to.

  Instead, he reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together.

  I close my eyes as a sense of peace washes over me.

  Silently, I promise myself tomorrow I will quit Linc but, tonight I just want to feel like I belong.

  Like, I’m home.

  Always and forever, home.

  -Twenty-seven-

  LINC

  I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t—not with Kelly in my bed. My hand was numb from holding hers all night but, exhaustion and the pins and needles traveling up my arm seemed like a small price to pay for having Kelly back where she belonged.

  Right beside me always and forever.

  I memorized her features, studied the new ink on her fingers and counted her breaths. I learned I liked the blonde hair fanning my pillow as much as I liked it when it was pink. I reacquainted myself with the rhythm of her sporadic snores and indulged in the restless way she tossed and turned because it brought her body closer to mine.

  I knew it was temporary that she’d wake up any minute and last night would be filed away with the four years of stolen moments and borrowed time we shared. Kelly would retreat to her corner of the ring and I would stand idle in mine. She’d strategize ways to protect herself from me and I would look for an opening to hook her. We’d go round after round spinning in circles until time ran out on the clock and neither of us would come out winning.

  Pulling her hand from mine, she stirs and stretches against my side. The time starts to run and the moment her eyes flutter open, the buzzer sounds. Her eyes fight for focus and the second it registers where she is they go wide. Her defenses go up and she jolts into an upright position.

  “Not again,” she whimpers, dropping her face into her hands.

  “Kelly—”

  Lifting her head, she snaps her attention back to me and holds up a hand.

  “Save it,” she orders, pushing the covers off her. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

  “Stop,” I demand, reaching for her hand. She snatches it out of my reach and scrambles off the bed. Holding both hands in the air like a caught suspect, she takes a step backward. “I’m not doing this again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Whatever this is,” she shouts, waving her hand back and forth between us.

  “You fell asleep on the couch,” I start.

  “And, what, your conscience wouldn’t let you leave me there?” she snaps, rolling her eyes. “Please,” she hisses. “It shouldn’t bother you considering how good of a job you’ve done leaving me before.” Dropping both hands to her sides, she steps forward. “Tell me,” she dares. “Tell me why you can’t leave me in the past. Why can’t you leave us in the past where we belong?”

  “You know where you belong,” I growl.

  “No,” she spats. “I used to think I knew where I belonged until I realized that was a lie too,” she resolves.

  Like last night, the sadness in her eyes calls to me. The tone of her voice, the broken words she speaks, it all fucks with me. It makes me sick to think she truly believes she never mattered to me. It fucking tears me to shreds knowing she thinks my love was a lie. That she never belonged to me.

  I wanted her to hate me, to resent me and fucking forget me. But, I didn’t want to ever have to see it. Asking Sin to do my dirty work was the cowards way out. He was the one who stared into her eyes while her heart broke. The one who watched her grieve our love and mourn the future we planned. I pressed pause, leaving the song stuck on my favorite part of the chorus while he listened to the same tragic chord.

  Now, here we are and Sin’s not the one watching her broken heart bleed through her eyes. Out of sight, out of mind is no longer an option. Kelly’s standing in front of me and all I see is the pain I’ve caused her. Everything she says and d
oes, she doubts and I’m the reason behind all of that.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she closes her eyes and I watch her lips move as she counts to three. Opening her eyes, she sighs. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Forget it, forget I said anything.”

  Kelly was never indecisive. She never bit her fucking tongue for no one. I’m done with it, with her not speaking her mind. It’s time to tell her the truth so she can go back to believing in herself.

  Back to believing in me.

  In us.

  “I think we should talk.”

  “No, there’s nothing to talk about. I’m freaking out over nothing,” she stammers.

  “You’re freaking out because this, you and me, it’s easy. It’s comfortable and no matter how much times passes between us or how much hurt we cause one another, it still feels right.”

  “Does it?” she whispers the question.

  “Maybe not right this second but, when you were in my lap and climbed into the bed with me it did,” I argue. “I know what you’re feeling right now because ever since you showed up here two weeks ago, I’ve felt it every time I look at you. One minute I want to say fuck it and go back to the way things were and the next, I’m struggling to remind myself of why we’re in this position at all.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little peculiar you need a reminder considering you’re the one who put us in this position.”

  Three words are all I need to say to her to set us both free from my mistake. Three words will open the gates to the discussion she deserves.

  “I loved you,” I rasp.

  She doesn’t react, making me realize how badly I’ve fucked things up.

  “Why are you doing this?” she questions.

  “I loved you,” I repeat, deciding I will say the same three words over and over until I see that flicker of light shine in her eyes.

  “Stop it,” she demands.

  “I love you more than anything or anyone,” I rasp. Reaching for the hem of my t-shirt, I pull it up and over my head. Bunching it into a ball, I toss it aside and lift a hand to my chest. My fingers rub the punctured heart between my pecs.