I took the door knob and steadied my back to the wooden frame, pulling myself up. With a deep inhale, I stopped myself from breathing whilst turning the knob slowly––centimeter by centimeter. The door was loose and barely made a sound as I pulled the door to me with my eyes reaching the edge of the stairs.
The house was quiet. Or at least quiet enough for me to make my next move. My legs started their trek to the stairs, and once I was there, it took every grain of effort in my body not to make a peep from the old steps. Halfway down and the living room was already in view. Harry had passed out on the couch, one leg sprawled off the edge while his arm took the board. The color of his face was flushed with the alcohol which meant I was practically in the clear. Exactly where was Grizzly and the other guy though?
My eyes went from the kitchen bar to the front door where the welcome mat lay. The only shoes I could recognize was Harry's brown cluttered boots. Had they gone?
I didn't have much time to find out. I continued down the remaining steps and peered out the window to see if there were any cars in our driveway. None. Relief was splashed into my heart, and I could breathe. I darted my way past to the living room that leads to the kitchen until I noticed the phone sitting at the end table by Harry's feet.
Those numbers were staring back at me with the green monitor.
Should I call my father?
No. I learned my lesson. Get out while he's down and don't look back. I pulled my body away from the door and stepped into the open kitchen just in time to spot something familiar. Harry's phone was sitting on the counter top by the stove!
I didn't know if it had been sitting there this entire time, but I cursed at not noticing it until now. Sure, I couldn't finish the dial of numbers for my father's cell––but I knew Harry's passcode and using his data would help me find my way back home.
My hand snatched the phone, and I was already on my way to the garage with a swelling confidence building in my chest. So close, I had to be careful. The garage was closed, and if I opened it with the remote, there's that risk of waking him up, so I'd have to pull the door up myself.
With a close of the kitchen door behind me, I continued to the wide door with the freedom to move quickly. I dropped to my knees before the latch and inched my fingers underneath the handle. My endurance strained itself trying to slide the weight of the door up with one hand, but I held my breath, trying not to make another sound while I was so close to freedom! It took some time trying to slide the damn thing up to the halfway point, but once I was there, the rest seemed to lift on its own like a feather.
I rolled it quietly on up to the garage ceiling and saw the dark night clearing of my neighborhood before my eyes. The cool air rolled up to my heated face and distressed my mind all at once. At that moment, I could've cried to have made it this far. After everything, never did I think I’d walk out on my husband. Until now, our spats had been purely emotional. He’d never laid a hand on me until tonight – and tonight was the last fucking time he’d lay a hand on me
Harry wasn’t a model husband by any means. He knew exactly the right things to say that would break me down. He would apologize from the bottom of his heart, and I could only sit there and believe him. Not anymore. This was the last damn time he'd ever do anything to hurt me.
I picked my head up and walked away from the entrance to get into the car. When I slid that key in the ignition and turned it, I didn't care if Harry woke up from his drunken slumber. I didn't give a shit if he freezes to death in his sleep when the cold escaped the garage and filled up the rest of our house.
My foot lifted off the brake, and as the car followed on forward, I didn't stop. As soon as I was up to the lip of my driveway, I hit the gas and turned the wheel with the arm he didn't fuck up.
Chapter 2
Ashley
The road ahead of me was a slow trek up to Montana. Everything passed my windows: every tree, every farm, every person that watched the car burn rubber the second the overhead stoplight flashed green.
If I seemed like a reckless driver that was because my bad arm ended up dislocated, no thanks to Harry. Five or six cars had honked furiously behind me to change lanes or smash the gas pedal, but I didn't give a fucking care. I'll gladly drive the speed limit, and if they didn't like it, they could change lanes and pass me. It didn't make a difference if they gave me looks or gave me the bird. With one hand on the steering wheel, I drove with a smile on my face and no regrets for the remaining five hours on the road. Hell, the journey felt like nothing after the three years of marriage I had left behind me.
When I finally reached Montana, it felt like the landscape stretched wider before my tired eyes. We say that Montana stretches like a smile into the American soil. Texas was known for its muscle, New York for its skylight eyes, but Montana had a smile that could light up the town in stars.
I used to walk the fields at night with those twinkling gems winking back down at me. Now, the morning sun was the only eye welcoming me back home from the restless night spent driving.
Alongside the road, I saw that the fields were healthy and plentiful of crops: barley sprigs waiting to be brewed for Octoberfest, potatoes that were probably bigger than my fist, and the sugar beets.
I wonder if Dad still carried jars of his special black cherry jam.
My thoughts pondered over my Dad until I came to the road that would lead me back to my childhood home. Many things crossed my mind at this moment. Would he be happy to see me? Would he tell me to go back to Harry? I didn’t leave on the best terms, but I was determined to make up for every horrible thing I put my father through.
I’ve been gone for almost four years. I’d just graduated and was so very naïve. I can only hope that Dad will understand that everyone makes mistakes, even his little girl.
I kept driving until I pulled Harry's shitty Honda Accord up to the gates of the Reapers MC, waiting for a prospect to let me through. As I rolled down the window of the car, I pulled my hoodie up over my head to cover up the swollen side of my face, not wanting anyone to gossip about me, but also not wanting to get pity from anyone in the club. I winced as the fabric brushed against the side of my cheek but didn't say a word as I saw the man slowly approaching the driver's side of the car.
By the look of him, he seemed new on the job. He was trash looking with his dirty-blonde hair that was obviously unkept. Across the cusp of his narrow jaw was roadkill for facial hair but I couldn’t recognize his face with those shades he had on. I knew exactly at this moment that he wasn’t someone I’d know.
Where were the usual boys that came for their shift? Wasn't it usually Joey or Pete? At least those boys didn't have the audacity to keep a woman waiting.
“You lost, lady?" The prospect asks as he reaches the car.
His hands were gripping his belt with both hands like he owned the place and frankly, that pissed me off.
“I don't believe so," I said flatly, looking him dead in the eye. "I believe I happen to be in the right place, dipshit."
That made his mouth purse. Obviously, he wasn't happy with my attitude.
“Listen, bitch––"
I cut him off right then and there. With a dislocated arm, a black eye, and a body full of hurt, I have had enough of this bullshit. Men were starting to forget who the hell they were dealing with, and no one spoke to me that way and got away with it. Well, no one besides Harry but don’t worry, he'll get what’s coming to him soon enough.
“Listen here, Prospect.” I emphasized with venom on my tongue, “If you want to get voted into this club, you need to let me through this damn gate."
That caught his attention up to the point that he slowly released the grip on his belt.
"I’m Ashley. Ashley. Fucking. Monroe." I spoon feed him the threat while he stood there, stupid, wide eyed and not understanding one lick of what I was telling him. "My daddy really won’t like hearing about the tough time you’ve been giving me. Either let me in, or I’ll crush you like a fucking cockr
oach.”
He reconsidered with a slow gulp lodged in his throat. I watched him open his phone and drill some number in before putting it up to his ear. When he got uncomfortable with my cold stare, he turned his back to me and started muttering into the receiver. While he took his sweet time talking, I repositioned myself into the car seat with the weight of my body's aching.
My good hand finally left the steering wheel to touch the base of my stomach, and I realized that from the tip of my finger to the wrist I was trembling. The entirety of my body was trembling at the memory of last night. It was marring the recollection of my memories and swelling like a sort of sickness that refused to go away the day after—like a hangover on the back burner.
Damn it. How stupid did I have to be not to see his true character? Just what did I deserve to end up like this?
My thoughts were interrupted by a low rumble of bikes coming from behind the Honda. My eyes slid to the right mirror and searched for faces amongst the crowd. As they stalled, there were two men getting off their bikes with a kick of the stand. I looked for anyone who could vouch for me; I even started looking for my father.
“What’s goin’ on here?”
I recognized that hard-spit, the chuckle of a voice immediately. It couldn't have belonged to anyone else but my uncle, Cracker.
“This bitch is tryin’ to get in the club." The roach says, his confidence sparking back up, "Says she’s the Ashley Monroe.”
He came up to the side of the driver’s window, lowering his face, and sure enough, I could recognize him. He’s aged a bit over the past few years, but he almost looks the same.
“Didn’t I tell ya to stop smoking those cancer sticks before I left?” I muttered to him, offering him a small smile.
"Well, I'll be," He whispered to himself as he took in my face.
A sly grin that could make a fox jealous crept underneath the crisp-hay mustache that rested on his upper lip. He carried the same blue eyes that I inherited from my father—the Monroe sapphires, so he claims.
“Uncle Cracker, I swear." I shook my head at the nerve of his prospect, "I’m going to be a lot harder on this shit than Daddy ever was.”
He broke his expression into a low chuckle, “I bet you will be, darlin’. Now what the fuck happened here?”
His hand went past the window to try to touch my face, but I immediately turned away. Not in shame. No, fuck that. That side of my face felt so tender that even my cotton hoodie felt like sandpaper every time it touched the bruising.
When I looked back to Uncle Cracker, his own face appeared soaked in melancholy. I could tell he was trying his best not to imagine the cause of my damage, but his expression pushed me close to tears. It was going to be hard enough trying to get out of this damn car; I’m not going to start crying now. Not when I have so much to do – so much to make up for.
“I’ll tell you later." I promise, lowering my eyes to the door handle, "Can you just tell your lovely little boy who I am? I need to see my father.”
Cracker nodded at me and turned on his shoulder to pinch his lip before whistling a hard pitch. The prospect buzzed the gate open. I gave my uncle a nod of thanks before lifting my foot up to roll on through. As I drove, Cracker's smile in the reflection of my mirror was the biggest signal to tell me that things were going to be okay.
I tried not to think about it while I parked at the main house. Along the pathway was a full park lot with a line of bikes winking with shine as they sunbathed. Some of the men were out on the porch with their whores wiggling in their laps, giggling about something stupid. The sad part is, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a couple or two fucking out here in the open. That was the life though. This is the grand ol’ Reapers compound.
This is my birthright, and I’m finally home.
Just seeing that the clubhouse was packed tonight gave me no doubt that they were having a party. Whether it was a barbecue or a football game, I didn’t care. As long as it wasn’t gambling because I couldn’t stand to walk in on another bar fight with the prospects claiming that they got cheated by the full patches.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and automatically cringed at the pain ripping along my arms. I didn’t even realize how hard it was to move my shoulders as I had to move my arm to get the width of the band off me. As I turned the car off, I pulled out my keys to stuff them into the cushion of my bra before I opened the door. I swung it all the way open without much force, but I didn’t give a damn if the piece of crap fell off its hinges.
Now, getting out of the car? That was a completely different story. I had been driving so long that my body was practically molded into my seat.
I gathered all of my willpower and strength to start sliding my legs out. A grunt escaped me as my arms rooted themselves to the doorframe and then I pulled myself out. The steady wind came rolling up to my face, collecting the cold that ran down my face in wet tears.
“Darlin’ you don’t look too good.”
My uncle had been following my car the entire time with his bike. As I was wobbling from my car, he had parked his bike across my car to come back up to my side.
“I’m––” My voice cracked, and I had to adjust my words with a thick cough, “I’m alright, Cracker.”
He didn’t believe that. As I closed the door of the car with a thick slam, he watched me lean into my car with a quivering lip. My uncle’s brow furrows in disagreement, and he couldn’t stand it any longer. With a slide of his hand up to the back of my hood, pulled it off of my face only to stand there, looking down at me.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
The line of his mouth thinned with the stiffness holding onto his jaw. God, the look on my face must have really broken his heart in two. I could only stand there while he shook his head in hard disapproval.
“Your good-for-nothin’ husband do this?”
I didn’t answer. There was too much grief filling up my heart, and I was afraid that just one word would dissolve me back into tears that I so desperately needed to shed. I simply looked back up to his eyes, and he knew.
“Fuckin’ bastard.” He swore and looked down at me dead in the eye. “For how long, Ash?”
I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I couldn’t bear the shame that was riddled with my body. My arms wrapped themselves around me as I simply shook my head.
“Jesus.”
Cracker breathed in and pulled me close to what I thought was a hug––only to realize he was picking me up. When he brought me up from the floor, I griped at the soreness of my abdomen.
“Fuck! That hurts!”
“I’m sorry’ kid.” He apologized while he adjusted his arms underneath my legs. “I gotta get you to your father. It’ll be over in a minute.”
I had to bite my lip to hold back from groaning. He was right. It wouldn’t do to walk my way up to the house in the condition that my body was in. I wrapped my arms around my uncle’s shoulders, and he trekked forward.
There was enough attention coming from the deck as I could spot the guys peeking over their chairs. As we passed them, I shot them a dirty look to mind their own fucking’ business and even the club whores pursed their lips in contempt at me.
Uncle Cracker didn’t notice as he carried me up the little hill that my childhood home sat atop. It was only a few hundred yards away from the clubhouse, but those yards were a slow walk with my weight slowing us down. When my uncle started up the stairs, the throbbing aches were weighing me down to the floor with every step. I winced at bobbing it took to finally reach the deck, but sure enough, we had reached the deck and were on our way to the door.
Cracker had to balance me somehow to get a free hand on the knob of the door, seeing as how the door was already unlocked. I wondered right then if my Dad was home. If his first time seeing me in four years would be like this. I didn’t want them too. I didn’t want him to see me so broken.
He walked into the peaceful ambience of my home after shutting the door behind us. All these years and thi
s house hadn’t changed a bit. Everything that my mom did was still exactly in place.
I would’ve expected Daddy to give the place a facelift with a couple of paint jobs and carpeting instead of the usual woodwork, but I was happy to see that the place still felt like home. The walls were an eggshell white with a fine oakwood finish for the paneling. Every window sported on these peach schnapps tinted curtains so that every sunrise filled each room with orange marmalade light. Even now, the living room filled my heart with longing to return home. I can’t believe I chose to leave all of this behind.
With Cracker’s help, I was settled onto a sofa where I rolled my hoodie up to my shoulders. When I pulled it over my head to roll it up on my lap, his face tensed at the injuries on my body. When I looked down, even I winced at the embedded purples, and blues scattered across my natural sun kissed arms. I knew that the bruises underneath my cami had to have been ten times worse, but I didn’t check in fear that I’d go sick at the sight. I was right not to check.
“Unbelievable, Ash.” My uncle uncrossed his arms, “Let me get your Pops. Just don’t go anywhere.”
I gave him a look.
“Do I really look like I’m capable of getting anywhere on my own right now?”
Cracker pursed his bottom lip and nodded. He turned his back to me and proceeded to walk out the front door. I’d wondered if I was too cold in my tone, knowing that I wasn’t. I was just a girl who’s been through a hell of a lot in the last twenty-four hours. I’ve sure as fuck surpassed my threshold.
When I looked down to my bruises, that was enough for my tears to start welling up behind my eyes––but as soon as my uncle left, they broke.
All alone and I just wanted to cringe into the pain, accept my disdain, and dissolve into the tears for as long as I wanted. It wasn’t just the pain that consumed my emotions. It was everything that came with it.
From my husband beating me into the next weekend to being scared if I lost the baby. God––and coming back home! I’ve never felt so scared yet so safe in my entire life. It made me wrap my arms around my body, squeezing my arms as the sobs escaped my mouth.
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