Cotton: Satan's Fury MC

by Wilder, L.

  Just like the doctor promised, the nurses came in at three to take me to surgery. In a matter of minutes, I was back in the operating room, fighting for my life. It was almost nine before I made it out of surgery. The doctors examined me time and time again and felt confident the surgery was a success, but I still had my doubts. Even after everything they’d done, I couldn’t feel anything below my waist and was panicked I would never walk again. After spending an hour in the ICU, I was finally taken back to my room. I was still coming out of the fog of my anesthesia when I noticed Cassidy sitting quietly in the corner. She looked beautiful sitting there, staring at me. Her long, brown hair was cascading down her shoulders, and even though she was just wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater, I’d never seen her look so good. I wanted to reach for her, pull her close to me, so I could feel the warmth of her body next to mine. I wanted to feel that charge she gave me, get that lift I needed to set my mind at ease, but I knew I couldn’t do it. It was like a double-edged sword—I had no idea if the surgery had worked, and I had to do whatever it took to protect her from the hell that lay ahead even if that meant hurting us both in the process.

  “What are you doing here, Cass?” I growled.

  She walked over to me and reached for my hand as she said, “I came as soon as I heard about the shooting. I wanted…”

  “Weren’t you told to stay at the clubhouse?” I snapped, hating to see the hurt that filled her eyes when she realized I wasn’t happy to see her.

  “Yes, but…” she mumbled.

  “You were told to stay put, Cass. If I wanted you here, you’d know it.” It killed me to say those words to her, but I knew it was the only way to protect her.

  A dejected expression crossed her face as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Cotton. I just wanted to …”

  “That’s just it. This isn’t about you, Cass. I’m the one who’s been shot, and the last fucking thing I need to worry about is whether or not you are doing what you’ve been told,” I roared.

  With her voice strained as she was obviously trying to fight back her tears, she whispered, “I was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. If you wanted to be an old lady… my old lady, then you should’ve done what you were told. Get back to the club, Cass,” I ordered.

  My heart sank deep in my chest, breaking right along with hers, as I watched it happen. Tears began to stream down her beautiful face, and seconds later, her light… that light that made my day complete, vanished, leaving her broken and cold. The very thing I’d tried so hard to protect was gone.

  Her eyes dropped to the floor as she wiped the tears from her face and said, “I know you… I know you don’t mean this, Cotton. I don’t know why you’re pushing me away, but I’ll go… I’ll do what you want.” She looked up at me, her eyes pleading with me to tell her not to go, but I stayed silent. I couldn’t take the chance. Tears filled her eyes once again as she said, “I gave you my heart, Cotton. I trusted you with it, and for some crazy reason I thought you would take care of it. But today, doing this… saying the things you said, you broke it. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you for that.”

  The woman who turned to leave wasn’t the Cass I’d always known, and I wondered if she’d ever be the same again. As soon as she was gone, Sara stormed over to me and asked, “Why the hell did you just do that?”

  “Had to,” I answered.

  “I don’t understand you at all! That girl is obviously in love with you, Cotton, and there is no doubt in my mind you feel the same way about her, and you just broke her heart,” she scolded.

  “And how’s she going to feel when I can’t walk again, Sara? I know her. She won’t walk away from me, even if it means I’ll ruin her life. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I’d trapped her in that kind of life.”

  “You have to stop thinking the worst, Cotton. You’re going to be fine,” she tried to assure me.

  “You don’t know that. And until I know for sure, I’m not taking any chances. I won’t let her give up her life for me. She deserves more than that.”

  “You don’t get to make that decision for her, Cotton.”

  “I just did.”

  One Week later

  “It looks like you are about seven weeks pregnant,” Dr. Westin told Henley. “We’ll get a better idea of the actual date after your ultrasound.”

  “Seven weeks?” Henley asked nervously. “There was a night… it was a few weeks ago. We were celebrating, and I drank. A lot.”

  “It was early in the pregnancy, Henley. It’s fine. Just refrain from all drinking for the rest of the pregnancy.”

  “Okay,” she answered, sounding relieved.

  “How is your morning sickness?”

  “It’s more like all day sickness,” Henley pouted. “But it’s manageable.”

  “Let me know if it doesn’t get any better, and I will prescribe something to help. Be sure to take your prenatal vitamins every day, and I’ll schedule your ultrasound for two weeks from today.”

  “Okay,” Henley smiled.

  Dr. Westin handed Henley a prescription for vitamins, and as she walked toward the door, she said, “Cassidy, I have the room set up next door for you. I’ll let you go get ready while I check your blood work.”

  “Okay.” I really didn’t even see the point in getting the damn shot again. It wasn’t like I was going to be sexually active anytime soon. But they did help regulate my cycle, and since I was already there, I decided I might as well do it. I followed Dr. Westin out into the hall, and she motioned for me to go into the room to my left. Once I was inside, I put on the scratchy paper gown and waited for the doctor to come in. It was the first time I’d left my room at the club, other than working at the bar, since I’d returned from Anchorage, and if it weren’t for Henley, I’d still be there. The past week had been hard. I hadn’t heard anything from Cotton since the day I left, and it was killing me. I had no idea how he was doing. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach whenever I thought about the possibility of him never walking again. I desperately wanted to see him, talk to him, and see for myself how he was really doing, but I didn’t have that option. I kept hoping he’d change his mind and at least contact me. But he didn’t, and I was beginning to think he never would.

  When we finished up and headed out to the parking lot, we found Clutch and Smokey waiting for us. Just like always, Clutch was there, keeping an eye on us, but this time, he was too leery to ask either of us how it went. They followed us back to the clubhouse, but then left us, so they could go take care of some club business. I had no idea what was going on with the club, and I was getting worried. I was relieved when Guardrail finally called me into Cotton’s office.

  “He’s doing better,” he clipped.

  “And?” I pushed.

  “Cass, he’s going to be there a while. Not sure how long it’s going to take for him to get back home.”

  “I see… and he couldn’t tell me this himself?” I snapped. I was beyond relieved he was going to be okay, but I couldn’t imagine why he couldn’t pick up the phone and just call me—let me hear it from him he was going to be okay. Besides, I didn’t know what okay even meant. Would he be able to walk again? Would he be able to keep his presidency at the club? Everything was still up in the air, and I hated it. Cotton just kept dishing out the hurt, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

  I could see it in his eyes—he knew I was right. He ran his hand through his hair and said, “Just thought you’d want to know, Cass. I know you’ve been worried.”

  “I understand… I might as well go on and tell you I’ve decided to move back to my apartment.”

  “Okay,” he answered.

  “Maybe you can get Tristan to cover my hours at the bar,” I suggested.

  “Why would I do that?” he questioned.

  “I’m leaving, Guardrail. I really need some time to clear my head,” I told him.

>   Without a moment’s hesitation, he barked, “No. Not gonna happen.”

  “You can’t make me stay here, Guardrail. I’m not officially claimed by Cotton, or anyone else for that matter. I’m just the bartender,” I explained, my heart breaking as I said the words.

  “You are more than just the fucking bartender, and you know it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m leaving. I’ve got to do what is best for me right now, and being at the clubhouse isn’t it. I’ll take some time off and eventually find a job somewhere else. It will be the best thing for all of us. Cotton doesn’t need me distracting him while he’s trying to get back on his feet.”

  He finally relented and even got Allie to help me find a secretarial job at a local pediatrician’s office. The pay wasn’t all that great, but if things went well, I would be promoted to a manager’s position, which would mean a substantial increase in my salary. I gladly took the job, and in no time, I was easing into a real routine. It felt good to be back in my own apartment and away from all the memories of Cotton. I missed him. I thought being home would help, but every time I turned around, I found something that reminded me of him—an old t-shirt of his hanging in the closet, a song playing on the radio, or just a motorcycle passing by my window. He was everywhere. I couldn’t get away from him, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to.

  Thankfully, work helped keep me distracted. My first day went by in a complete blur. I was busy getting to know all the office routines and meeting all the doctors who worked there. They were all very nice, especially Sydney. She was in charge of billing and apparently knew all of the office gossip. I’d only been there a couple of hours when she came over, sat down next to me, and said, “Dr. Weston is getting a divorce.”

  “Which one is Dr. Weston?” I asked. I’d met them all, but I was still learning who was who.

  “The older guy… with the weird hair and glasses. I heard his wife was cheating on him with her mechanic,” she whispered. “And they had a prenup, so she won’t get a dime.”

  “I hate to hear that… I mean, for Dr. Weston, not her.”

  “Girl, he’s a complete jerk-face. Don’t feel sorry for him,” she huffed. “He’s always got his adult diapers in a twist.”

  Laughing, I said, “Then I guess he got what was coming to him.”

  “You got that right.” She paused for a minute then asked, “You like Italian? I’m in the mood for Italian. We should go grab some lunch together.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “Cool beans. I know this great place I’ll take you. They have killer pasta,” she replied as she went to her desk to get her keys. Then she called out to the secretary out front, “I’m taking Cassidy to lunch. We’ll be back in forty-five.”

  Sydney spent the entire lunch giving me the ins and outs of all the doctors and how things worked. When we got back, I didn’t have much time to think about anything, much less Cotton. I spent the rest of the day sorting through the stacks of paperwork that had to be filed by the end of the day. When I finally managed to finish and headed home, I found Clutch waiting for me outside.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” he smiled. His back was propped against the brick wall of my complex, and he was wearing one of his baseball caps and a big smile. I‘d noticed a few days ago he’d stopped wearing his sling and seemed to be fully recovered, and since he didn’t need Smokey to drive him around, I’d seen a lot more of him. Especially after I’d left the club. He’d been by every day, so I wasn’t surprised to see him standing at the front door of my apartment building.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me every day?” I teased.

  “Nope,” he replied as he followed me up to my apartment. As soon as I opened the door, he walked over and plopped down on my sofa. In a matter of seconds, he had the remote in his hand, surfing through all the sports channels.

  “Well, make yourself comfortable,” I laughed as I tossed my purse down on the table. “You know… you don’t have to keep coming over here to check on me. I’m fine.”

  “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop checkin’. I’m following orders after all,” he smiled.

  “Pfft. I doubt your prez even cares whether you check or not. Just stop wasting your time.”

  “Cass,” he started. “I’d come, orders or not.”

  I walked back to my room and started changing my clothes. Through the closed door, Clutch shouted, “I just don’t get it. So just because things didn’t work out with you and the Prez, that doesn’t mean you have to leave the damn club, Cass.”

  “I already told you. I needed some time to myself, knucklehead. Even you ought to be able to understand that.”

  “Well, I don’t. There’s no reason for you to give up everything just because …” he started, but stopped when I walked back into the room.

  “Just leave it. This is the right thing for me right now. I’m not saying it will be forever,” I lied. I honestly had no intention of going back. Being around Cotton would just be too hard.

  “You got anything to eat?” he asked as he got up and started walking toward the kitchen. “You haven’t been around to cook, and I’m starving.”

  “So the truth comes out,” I laughed. “You just miss me for my cooking.”

  “Now, you know that isn’t true. I miss everything about you,” he smiled, and I watched with surprise as a light blush covered his face. He quickly tried to recover by saying, “Well, not everything. You have that bad habit of bellowing out those weird songs. No one listens to that stuff, Cass. What’s wrong with Adele or Demi Lovato?”

  I gave him a light shove and said, “I can’t believe you said that. I don’t bellow… and it’s not like I even know I’m doing it half the time, but I’ll be sure not to sing around you anymore.”

  “Whoa… what’s wrong with you?” he asked as he crossed his arms.

  “What? Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Oh, there is definitely something wrong, Cass. I’ve never known you to pout… ever.”

  I sighed and said, “And I’m not pouting now.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’re pouting. No doubt about it.”

  “No… I’m not!” I snapped.

  “Shit, Cass. What’s going on? You’re all on edge and moody… Ohhh, shit. I get it,” he smiled.

  “You get what, numb-nut?”

  “It’s that time of the month, huh? Feeling crabby and mad at the world? You want me to go get you some tampons or something?”

  “Clutch!” I shouted. He took a step back and raised his hands up in defeat as I stepped toward him and said, “You are such an asshole.”

  “Yeah, I can’t help myself,” he smirked. “But hey, let me make it up to you. What do you want for dinner? I’ll go get whatever you want and one of those chick flicks you like so much.”

  I almost told him no, but I was lonesome and having him around helped take my mind off of things. “Yeah… I think that sounds good. Thanks.”

  “So what’s it going to be? Chinese or Mexican?”

  Just the thought of spicy food made my stomach turn, so I said, “Chinese. Definitely Chinese.”

  “You got it. You sure you don’t need me to grab you some tampons while I’m out?” he laughed.

  “You don’t know when to stop, do you?” I laughed. “No. I’m good with Chinese and a movie.”

  It didn’t take him long to return with a ton of Chinese food and more movies than we could ever begin to watch in one night, and it meant the world to me. We spent the night eating and watching movies, and he even helped me hang a few pictures in the hallway. He was just about to leave when he asked, “Whatcha got going on Friday?

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “I’ve been wanting to see that new movie, Deadpool. Wanna go?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I think I can do the movie on Friday,” I told him.

  “Cool,” he smiled. “I better get going. Be sure and lock up.”

  Even though it was almost midnight,
I hated to see him go. “Okay. Thanks for the Chinese and the movies.”

  “Anytime,” he answered as he closed the door behind him. With him gone, a lonely silence quickly filled my apartment. I tried to ignore it and headed for my room. I got into bed and tried to block out the sadness that kept trying to creep into my thoughts. There was no reason for me to feel sorry for myself. I had a good job, a roof over my head, and friends and family who cared about me. I had everything I really needed… except Cotton—the one thing I wanted more than anything else.

  Recovery was a bitch. I spent the first few days after my surgery thinking it hadn’t made a damn bit of difference, but the doctors were optimistic. I was becoming frustrated and wanted to tell the doctors to go to hell, but eventually, I started to regain more and more feeling in my lower legs. It was an odd sensation, like my legs had fallen asleep, but that feeling quickly turned into something more normal. Over the next twenty-four hours, the doctors saw my progress and were hopeful I would gain the full use of my legs again. After just a few short days, they had me up and on my feet. I had to use a fucking walker, but at least I was up. I worked my ass off, just trying to make it down the damn hall, but I didn’t give up. I was determined to get my life back, no matter what it took. When I continued to get better, Dr. Clayborn decided it was time to move me over to a rehabilitation center across from the hospital. When I asked about doing my rehab at home, Clayborn was adamant I stayed close to the hospital. He wanted me there, so he could monitor my progress, at least until I got a bit stronger. Maverick and Sara both agreed with him, saying I would have fewer distractions if I stayed there while I completed my therapy.

  I finally agreed with them, but I wasn’t exactly happy about it. Dr. Clayborn promised me the rehab center was one of the best around, but I wasn’t so sure. When I first walked in and saw all of the elderly people passing by, it felt more like a fucking nursing home than a rehabilitation center. I had my doubts about the place, but after being there for a couple of days, I knew I’d made the right decision to stay. I had my own room, and Sara brought me over a laptop and everything I would need to keep in touch with everyone at the club. As soon as it was set up, I sent an email to my mother and brothers, doing my best to assure them I was okay. In no time, I’d spoken to everyone—except the one person I actually wanted to talk to. As soon as I knew I might be able to walk again, I tried calling Cass, more times than I could count, but she wouldn’t answer the damn phone. I even tried emailing her, but never got a response. She wasn’t making it easy, not that I expected her to. She was shutting me out, and even though I knew I deserved it, that didn’t mean I liked it. When Guardrail told me she was leaving the clubhouse, I wasn’t exactly surprised. I knew I’d fucked up, but I would do whatever it took to fix it.