Derek

by Ashers, LeAnn

  Derek

  LeAnn Ashers

  Derek

  Derek is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

  Designer: Regina Wamba

  Photographer: Regina Wamba

  Editor: Stephanie Marshall Ward at Eats, Shoots, Edits

  Formatter: HJ Bellus

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Brittany

  2. Brittany

  3. Brittany

  4. Brittany

  5. Derek

  6. Brittany

  7. Brittany

  8. Brittany

  9. Brittany

  10. Brittany

  11. Brittany

  12. Brittany

  13. Brittany

  14. Derek

  15. Brittany

  16. Brittany

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Want more to read?

  Grim Sinners MC Series

  Prologue

  Brittany

  A lot of teenagers’ lives are filled with drama, worried about who’s going to date whom or when the next party is.

  Mine hasn’t been like that.

  Mine has been filled with constant worry about whether my parents are going to overdose, if I’ll have enough food for dinner tonight, and if my shoes will hold out another day.

  That’s my life: constant worry.

  My parents are consumed by the needle in their arm and how they’re going to get their next fix, which they do in any way possible. Hell, they once sold the blanket off my bed in the dead of winter.

  I am sixteen—I just turned sixteen—and my life wasn’t always like this. Three years ago, when my dad lost his job, it slowly started going downhill.

  But it wasn’t this bad until a year ago; we’ve hidden it well. We have never let anyone in the family come to our house; we’ve always met them somewhere else.

  Darla, my mother’s sister, has always been my saving grace. I used to go to her house on weekends and during the summer, but now my parents won’t allow me to, because she would find out. So my saving grace isn’t my saving grace anymore. All I have is this house, which is a shell of what it used to be.

  I walk inside and the temperature in the house is colder than it is outside. I bet the electricity has been cut off again.

  Great.

  I put my school bag on the floor. My mother is sitting with her head resting on the table, completely passed out. My dad is on the couch in a very similar situation.

  It makes me sad; they were great parents at one point. Maybe not the most caring—but I had what I needed, and that was enough for me. Now the drug has completely taken over their lives and mine.

  I walk over to Mom, sadness ripping through my heart seeing her like this. She still has the rubber band around her arm, which is turning blue.

  I take it off her arm and she jolts awake, her eyes wild as she looks all around her. Her eyes settle on mine and she gasps. As she pushes herself out of the chair, she hits the ground hard.

  “What did you do to me?” she screams, pointing at me before she crab walks away, as fast as her body will allow, until her back hits the cabinets.

  I shake my head. “Mom, I just got home,” I say softly, trying not to startle her any more.

  Her face reddens as she gets angrier. She claws the cabinet and pulls herself up until she is standing. “You’re lying to me!” she spits out and takes a menacing step toward me.

  She has never been like this before—what do I do? Fear travels through me, causing a shiver to go up my spine. I have always been one to stand up for myself, but this is different. She is my mom.

  She walks closer and I back away. Maybe I should make a run for it and go to my room? That’s the only place I feel safe.

  My eyes widen as she grabs the huge glass ashtray off the kitchen table and throws it at me. I try to duck, but it strikes the side of my face.

  I fall to the floor and cup my face, and I stare at my mother. I don’t want to call her that—not anymore. She lost that respect the second the ashtray left her hand and hit me.

  She is nothing to me anymore.

  She stares down at me in shock, like she can’t believe it just happened, but it did, and I am done with her.

  Right as I am about to tell her that, there is a knock on the door. She looks down at me and then at the door.

  That’s when my dad decides to come into the world of the living. He pushes himself off the couch and opens the door.

  My mouth opens in shock as I see who is standing there.

  Aunt Darla and Uncle Brooks. Darla’s eyes dart to me, and I can feel the blood flowing down my face from the cut the ashtray left on my eyebrow. She covers her mouth, and Brooks shoves his way into the house, causing my dad to take a couple of steps back.

  I push myself up off the floor and grab a washcloth out of the cabinet to put on my face.

  Darla rushes over to me and presses her hand to my face. “What is happening here, Brittany?” she asks, and I close my eyes so I don’t cry because she is concerned for me. I haven’t had that in so long. I have not seen my aunt in so long, and I have missed her. I just want her to hold me, and I want to forget. I don’t want to worry, and I want to be sixteen years old.

  “Baby,” she whispers.

  “Brooks, I am going to take her to the ER, find out what the fuck is going on,” she hisses and glares at my mom.

  She takes my hand and we walk out of the house, not saying one word to each other. I can feel my hand shaking in hers as everything that just happened starts to sink in.

  A lot of things have happened, including random people being in our house all the time. I was scared some of them were are going to sneak into my room in the middle of night to hurt me.

  I should feel safe, happy, and comfortable in my own home, but it’s just a jail, one that I don’t think I could stand another day.

  Darla helps me into their truck, and I stare out the window at my house, which is barely standing, it seems. She shuts the door. “You start at the beginning,” she tells me as softly as she can, but I can hear the anger in her voice.

  This is why I haven’t been allowed to see her for the past few years. Darla is a no-nonsense type of girl, and she would have tried to fix it, but my mom doesn’t want to be fixed.

  There’s nothing to fix now. Everything just went down the drain, and there’s nothing left to retrieve.

  * * *

  It’s been silent since I got to the hospital. Darla has been on her phone the whole time, with a seriously pissed-off look on her face.

  I stare at the floor and then at her; I just don’t know what to say. On the way to the hospital, I told her about Mom and Dad’s drug problem, along with the other stuff that has been happening. I am embarrassed—I don’t know why, but I am. I love my parents nonetheless, and I don’t want them to look bad.

  I just don’t know what else I could have done. She saw my mother at her worst, and there is no hiding that.

  I have to accept whatever happens. I am ashamed and I don’t know why. I feel responsible for some reason. Maybe I could have done better and not stressed them out so much?

  The doctor comes in and I lie down on the bed, my eyes closed, not even caring that a needle is going to be pushed through my forehead. I should be scared and nervous, but the only thing that hurts is my heart.

  I am nu
mb.

  I can feel my aunt’s eyes on me. Someone takes my hand, and I open my eyes to see Aunt Darla sitting next to me.

  I give her a smile—well, the best one I can muster.

  Once the doctor clears me to leave, I follow Darla to the truck and shut the door, staring through the windshield.

  “I was thinking, do you want to come live with us? Wilder would be so excited to see you all the time.” I look over at her, and she smiles at me softly. “I want you to have the life you deserve, honey, and this is not it. We love you so much, and you have always been the daughter I’ve always wanted.”

  Tears well up in my eyes. That is the nicest thing someone has ever said to me. Without hesitation, I nod. “I will move in you.” She pulls me into a hug, and I close my eyes and enjoy the first hug I have had in a long time.

  This decision changed my whole life.

  Chapter One

  Brittany

  I pull up in front of the clubhouse; this is my second home. I am here almost every single day.

  My dad, who is technically my uncle, is a member of the Grim Sinners MC, and my brother, Wilder, recently became vice president, so this has become my life.

  Once I moved here, when I was sixteen years old, I had more family than I had ever imagined. I was swallowed in love and affection by my uncles and the other old ladies, and I am so thankful, every single day, that this happened.

  I am curious as to what is happening with my parents. I have not spoken to them in years. Not since the night I left them after I was hit with the ashtray. I still have the scar as a reminder.

  I am now twenty-two years old. I am a makeup artist, mostly because I am addicted to beauty, fashion, and anything girly. I can wear six-inch heels as easily as some would wear sandals.

  Now the huge problem in my life is Derek.

  Just the sound of his name sends shivers down my spine. We have been floating around each other for a year now. Which I don't mind—I love strutting around and driving him crazy. I take great enjoyment in that, because I am not going to make the first move. That’s on him.

  One of the prospects opens my car door for me, and I put my foot out onto the ground, showing off my heel. As I ease my way out of my vehicle, the prospect looks me up and down.

  I smirk. “Thank you, sugar.”

  His eyes snap to my face and off of my ass, which annoys me to no end. He blushes and almost runs to the spot he guards near the gate. What a baby. He won’t make it to becoming a full member, I can tell you that right now.

  A couple of the ladies from the women’s center have teenage daughters, and it’s prom night. So I am in charge of makeup, and the MC provided each of them with any dress she wanted.

  I love the MC. They do so much for the community, and most of it goes unnoticed. People assume members of the MC are just bad people, but that’s only the case sometimes—just don’t fuck with them, and you are fine. Oh, and don’t forget the ladies in the MC; they just might be scarier.

  Walking inside, I’m in awe of how the guys set everything up; they are so cute like that. Each of the girls has her own little station so she can get ready.

  I smile at Wilder as he walks over and rolls his eyes. “Not a word.”

  I raise my hands. “I didn’t say anything.” But I was about to bust his balls because he has pink glitter on his arm, probably from carrying shit inside. But since he sassed me, I am not going to tell him.

  I walk over to my group of teenagers. “Alright, my ladies, who is ready get their makeup done?” They scream, and I grin at the pure excitement on their faces.

  Their mothers have escaped horrible situations or fallen on hard times, and this is for their daughters, so they can have this moment of normalcy.

  One of the girls is kind of off to herself, in the back, not really engaging with the others. Unlike the other girls, she doesn’t have her mom with her, and I can almost feel her pain. So I start with her. I make my way over to her and sit down beside her. “So what kind of look are you wanting to go for?” She looks up at me in shock that I chose her first. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes, and those cheekbones! Girl, you’re absolutely stunning.” Her whole face lights up, and she pushes her hair out of her face—no more hiding behind it.

  It only takes a few words to make someone’s day better. That’s why I strive to be the best I possibly can and to make everyone around me laughing and happy.

  I pull her hair up in a bun, and I turn on some music in the clubhouse to provide background noise. We make small talk. She tells me she is at the center with her mother, who is at work, so she couldn’t be here with her.

  I finish with her hair and makeup, and I spin her around so she can look at herself. She eyes widen, and she scoots forward in her seat so she is closer to the mirror. She touches her cheek slightly. “That’s really me?” she whispers as she looks herself over.

  “That’s you, honey. You’re gorgeous.” I lean down and hug her slightly, leaving her to stare at herself.

  I love that, with just a bit of effort, I can change someone’s day completely. This is one of the things I love about my job. I volunteer a lot. I show women how to cover scars, burns, anything they want.

  I know some people say we should just accept what they call “defects,” and I totally agree with that. Self-acceptance is huge! But how does it hurt if it makes you feel better? Isn’t that worth it? Do it for yourself and not others.

  I am all about self-care and doing things to make yourself feel good. If you want to get lip fillers, then go for it, honey. It’s your life, and you only need acceptance from within.

  I move on to the next girls, enjoying making small talk and listening to them telling me about their lives and their mothers. They are so strong. They are doing it all alone.

  One by one they get dressed, and my heart is filled with absolute bliss at seeing their beautiful faces shining brightly, without a worry in their hearts right now.

  I notice someone standing next to the bar from the corner of my eye. Derek is leaning against the side of the bar, arms across his chest and his eyes on me…

  I turn my head, trying not to show any reaction to his hot gaze on me, but oh do I notice it. I notice everything about him, and when he isn’t looking, I can’t tear my eyes away from him. The way his arms flex as he moves them, the way his jaw moves as he talks or eats. How his eyes light up when he gets excited when he is talking about something.

  Most of all I notice the way he looks at me; it’s different from everyone else. His eyes filled with oh-so-many things that I don’t want to admit to or wrap my head around.

  Relationships have pretty much sucked for me, to say nothing of being almost nonexistent. When I was still living with my biological mother, I never dated, never even had time for it. Once I moved in with Darla, who I consider my real mother, I threw myself into being happy and starting my career. I was content with being alone, and I felt safe and happy, and that was all I needed.

  Now I am twenty-two years old and I’m starting to want more, but I am also kind of embarrassed because I am so inexperienced for someone my age.

  I have kissed guys, but…uhh…that’s kind of the extent of it. I just have a hard time letting people in for fear of getting hurt or having them turn out not to be what I expected.

  I fear Derek, not in the way where I am scared for my life. I am scared because he could expose everything that I have kept hidden. I am a very confident lady, but I am scared. I am scared of going outside my bubble, taking chances, but I feel like Derek would be worth all of that. Too bad he isn’t making the first move.

  Lucky me, right? I hate the fact that he hasn’t made a move but, on the other hand, I am thankful he seems interested. My fantasy may just come true. I’m a mess.

  One by one all of the girls and their mothers thank me then tell me goodbye and get inside the limos that are waiting to take them to prom. That just leaves me, and I gulp. I turn around slightly to see if Derek is still standing there.
Oh, he is not where I last saw him. He is standing right next to me with a full grin on his face.

  Yeah, I think I need to duck out of this bitch right now. Forget about the makeup I brought; I can just come back another time or, better yet, just leave it all and buy more.

  His grin widens when he sees that I can’t speak. Why does he have to be so pretty? There’s a small man bun at the top of his head, the sides of his hair are shaved, and tattoos adorn his whole body, which is just begging for me to...

  STOP!

  I bring myself out of these thoughts—no need to go down that rabbit hole. He full-on smiles at me, flashing his perfectly straight teeth, which contrast with his tan skin, just making him more beautiful,

  “Hi Derek,” I get out, sounding much calmer than I feel. The butterflies are swarming all the way up to my throat.

  “Hey darlin’,” he says and I shiver; his country accent is to die for. Like they need to bottle that bitch up so every single male in the world can have it.

  He walks a little closer to me, and I bite my bottom lip so I don’t say anything that’ll embarrass me. He tilts his head to the side, flashing that dimple, studying me.

  Totally not fair.

  He hand moves toward my face, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what he does. My eyes don’t leave his, though. I am locked in those beautiful green eyes.

  And I don’t think there’s a way out.

  He pushes a strand of my long hair behind my ear. I can feel my cheeks warm, and I smile bashfully.

  “Beautiful.”

  My eyes widen at his admission. We have been floating around each other for a long time, and he has never once said anything like this to me.