by K E Osborn
Last time she was here, she didn’t have medication, so this part is all new to me, but as long as she knows what to do, we should all be good. I’ll have Crest do a run-down with me, just to make sure. If Mylee’s mind starts to go haywire, I don’t want her telling me the wrong shit.
As I sit here running through a million scenarios in my mind, I can’t stop watching her face. It’s so calm as she rests. No pain. No anguish. She just looks peaceful. I love that look on her. She’s beautiful. I could watch her like this all day.
***
Dinner time has come around, and I will need to spend some time with the club tonight after the events of today. It’s been a fucking crazy day that’s for sure, and with the Yakuza falling, then Mylee showing up, I have to admit I need to take a moment to just breathe.
Looking over her, I move my hand from her leg to the side of her face. Her cheek is almost a little hot to the touch. I wonder briefly if she’s running a temperature, but I figure her body has been through something traumatic, so I move the blanket down slightly releasing her arms. It’s summer after all, so it’s warmer inside. As I smooth some hair behind her ear, I caress her cheek tenderly. Touching her sends a shudder through my very soul. My arm sprinkles in goosebumps as they tingle all the way down to my cock. Each one prickling harder than the next. She has such power over me. I damn well hate it just as much as I love it.
I’ve missed her so fucking much. It’s killed me to be away from her these past two years. I never thought I’d see her again, but now she’s here, seeing her like this again, brings everything back with an almighty thump. No one here knew of her condition. No one knew she had mental health problems. No one but Neala, Surge and me. I think Mom suspected, but I never actually told her. Neala saw me with her one day when I was attempting to help her come out of a bad panic attack situation. She helped me bring Mylee around from the brink. I think that’s why Neala wasn’t fazed today. She’d seen this before.
Surge knows because he’s the Club’s wise one. So when times were rough, I went to him looking for guidance, seeking solace and support. He told me to ask the club for their assistance. But Mylee didn’t want the club to think any less of her for her issues. At the time, we didn’t know what was wrong with her. I knew something wasn’t right. I knew it was some kind of disorder, but I didn’t care. I was going to be there with her through all of it, no matter what.
When Crest confirmed what I’d suspected—that bipolar disorder ran in her family, her mother had it, then took her own life in one of her depressive episodes, and that Mylee was the one who had found her—shit got real, super quick. I forced Mylee to have the testing done. She didn’t want to, but I told her I would stand by her no matter what the outcome. But at the time, I could feel she was already pulling away.
When the official diagnosis came through, that’s when she ended us. She took all her stuff from the clubhouse and left without an actual goodbye. Just a note telling me not to go after her. I did, of course, but Crest was there to stop me. Not only him, but the entire Notorious Knights MC, and unless I wanted to start a war with our brother club, I needed to step back, let Mylee get a handle on things. I needed to let her father take over. And he did.
I tried once more, two months later. She was in a mental health hospital, and I went to see her without anyone knowing—not her, Crest, or my club. No one knew, but when I got there, the receptionist at the desk told me that my name specifically was blacklisted from seeing Mylee.
I kicked up a shit, demanded to know by who, then when they said it was by Mylee herself, it killed a piece of me. So I turned to walk away, then I saw her, down the hall, laughing with a redheaded male.
Anger surged through me. How could she be straining to hold it together, but laughing so freely like that. I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t comprehend. So, I left and decided that if she ever wanted to be with me again, she would find her way to me. But the problem was, Mylee never came back. I thought she would. I thought once she realized how good I was for her, she’d cave and come back.
But she never fucking did.
Until today.
Taking a deep breath, my fingers trickle along her silky skin. Her breath catching as I run my thumb along her lips that I want more than anything to kiss right now. She looks calm. It’s impressive after her brain being in overdrive that it has the power to shut down and rest like this. This is what she needs. I’m fucked off that I caused this reaction. I never thought about what was happening and how it might affect her. I detest this whole fucking idea that I have the power to hurt her, to bring her to her knees.
Not able to restrain myself any longer, I lean down and plant my lips to her forehead. Her soft skin feels like fucking heaven against my lips. I kiss her gently, so I don’t wake her. She lets out a small whimper like she’s delighted by my touch. I slowly pull back looking down, still caressing her cheek, while letting out a long breath.
“I love you, Mylee,” I murmur even though she can’t hear me.
Standing up, I regrettably let her go turning to walk toward the door. When I get there, I spin around taking one more look. She appears calm, so I leave.
The weight of today feels heavy as I close my eyes. I’m not sure what my next damn move should be. Everything in me wants to go back in with Mylee, curl up behind her while she sleeps, but I can’t. Rage still burns inside me so furiously hot I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain it much longer. Everything about this situation is fucked up!
Walking out into the clubroom, the music filters through the air, the party atmosphere’s in full swing. I might not feel like partying, but the rest of my brothers do. We had a win today. A big fucking win. We need to celebrate. So as I look around, I can see the party’s definitely underway big time.
The smell of pizza filters through the air as I turn to see the Andrettis. I raise my brow wondering how the hell it has come to this. Never thought I’d see the day when the Andrettis would be here, in our clubhouse, bringing us their pizza, and we’d be serving them our beer.
I slide into a chair at the wooden table next to Torque. He looks up at me as he chews on a slice of cheese pizza, the cheese running down his forearm. Foxy’s next to him with Scratch and Neala. Sensei and Sass are noticeably missing. I’m sure she’s resting after the day they’ve had.
“Seems the festivities are in full swing?” I ask.
Torque places his pizza on his plate as Scratch raises his brow to me. “You okay, brother? It seems you’re having an… interesting night?” Scratch asks.
“Interesting doesn’t begin to fucking cover it,” I murmur while Foxy looks at me sympathetically.
“You got a handle on this, Trax?” Torque asks.
I glance at him, letting out a huff followed by a shrug. “I have no idea, but I’m damn well gonna try.”
“I’m here, brother. I know what she means to you. So you tell us what you need...” he pauses dipping his head, “… we’ll support you.”
Raising my brow. “Did Crest tell you? ‘Bout her condition, I mean?”
His eyes soften. “Yeah. Did you know? Back then?” he questions. Foxy’s hand slides up and down his arm tenderly.
I can’t lie to my president, I can’t lie to my brother, he would know straight away. So, I simply sigh. “I knew something was different with her. We knew she had trouble regulating her moods. I kept telling her to get checked out, and that something wasn’t right. But she wouldn’t no matter how hard I tried. When we finally did get the diagnosis, she freaked. When she got the diagnosis, that’s when she dumped me.”
Torque understands. I see it in his eyes. “So she found out she had bipolar disorder then bolted?”
“That’s not surprising, Trax,” Foxy states matter-of-factly.
“What do you mean?”
She straightens her body to face me. “She loved you, right?” I nod. “Well, when she found out, she obviously didn’t want to put you through the trauma that goes with what being in a relatio
nship with someone who has a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. It’s hard work. I understand what she was doing. It’s normal for a person with that diagnosis to feel this way. They feel like a burden to those they love the most.”
“She was never a burden.” My eyebrows pull together.
Foxy’s pink lips turn up in sympathy. “You understand it, but the chemical imbalance in her brain makes her think all kinds of irrational thoughts. Things like she isn’t good enough for anyone, especially you, and no matter how many times you tell her otherwise, she won’t believe it. It’s the curse of the disease. It’s terrible, Trax. Her brain is literally her own worst enemy.”
I nod in recognition. I’d read about that online. The illness makes you think irrationally. It’s shit she’s going through this, it’s not something I can take away for her. It’s something she’s going to have to live with for the rest of her life.
Torque slaps my back. “It’ll all be okay, brother.”
I weakly smile as Neala pipes up, her bright red lips greeting me warmly. “And hey, she has us. So who the hell wouldn’t be happy with us around, right Trax?”
“Right,” I reply.
Cindi steps over bringing me a beer. She leans over thrusting her tits in my face as she places my stein on the table, then walks off just as quickly as she came. I clear my throat as the rest of the table laugh.
Foxy chuckles. “Jesus, could she be more obvious?”
I huff. “I’m so not in the mood tonight,” I groan as everyone jolts their head back in surprise.
“You… the master of pussy, is not… in the mood?” Torque questions.
Foxy scoffs slapping his chest playfully.
“No, with Mylee here it kinda changes the dynamics of everything. I don’t think I can manwhore while she’s here… it doesn’t feel fucking right.”
Scratch raises his brow. “I’m impressed, Trax. You must really like this pussy.”
“You have no idea, Scratch… no idea.”
“Well, I think it’s great. Especially if she has the support of someone who truly cares for her. I’m proud of you, Trax,” Foxy states her eyes lighting up highlighting her round cheeks.
“Cheers, Foxy.” I pick up my beer, taking a giant gulp, the bitter liquid hitting my tongue, then sliding down my throat helping the tension ease slightly.
I see Crest chatting to Surge, and I know I need to talk to him. I realize there’s a lot to say, I just don’t know how to even start that conversation. But I suppose I’d better grow some fucking balls because so far today I seem to have lost mine.
I stand up from the table, everyone looking at me as I grab my beer, taking a deep breath.
I need to go talk to Mylee’s dad.
CHAPTER FOUR
TRAX
Walking over to Crest, my heart’s hammering in my chest. I don’t know if I feel sick from nerves or sick from regret. Maybe a bit of both. But as I approach, Surge looks to me dipping his chin with a tense smile. “I think you two have a fair bit to talk about. I’m not going to hold that up. Play nice, boys,” Surge advises in his best fatherly voice, his arm still in a sling from when he was shot by the Yakuza masking as the Andrettis.
I glance to Crest, his almost white hair swept up in a wave, his white beard with slight flecks of blond covering his deeply tanned face shouldn’t look as broody as it does, but somehow he makes white look edgy. For a man pushing this side of fifty, his broad shoulders and arms, which are way bigger than mine, would intimidate many men but me not so much. I’ve had too many good times with this man. I even looked to him like a father figure when mine was gone. He’s been a part of my life for a long time, and even though he might not like to admit it, I’m not afraid to. I owe this man, a lot. Things might be tense between us now, but I don’t forget the past and everything we’ve shared, including the love of his daughter.
As he crosses his massive bulging arms across his chest, the veins protrude against his flesh making him seem even more intimidating. I take a sip of my beer as he watches, assessing me.
“Crest, Mylee’s gonna stay here. And if you’re gonna kick up a shit, you shouldn’t have brought her here in the first place. You knew I’d step in. She’s my responsibility now. I need to take care of her.”
He stiffens, his nostrils flaring as he tilts his head like he’s not liking what I have to say.
“I need to know Mylee’s regime. I need to know exactly how she manages her illness, so if things go south, I can take control.”
He raises a brow. “Right, I see where you’re going with this. While the idea of you controlling Mylee’s life fucking irks the shit outta me, I do need to know someone will step up if she starts to have issues…” he cracks his neck like he’s admitting defeat, “… I have a cheat sheet with all her medications written out and when she has to take them… the doses, phone numbers you might need, her psychiatrist, the hospital she stayed in, her prescription refills. It’s all there. Don’t let her run out of her pills that’s the fucking key. It’s mega important she doesn’t skip her fucking pills.”
My head bobs up and down rapidly taking all this in. “What happens if she misses a pill?”
He winces. “She’ll start to have issues. Her mood might decrease. She’ll possibly go into a depressive state. We don’t know the outcome, it’s so unpredictable. So don’t miss the fucking pills.”
A lump catches in my throat remembering her depressive states.
They were terrible.
I wonder if they’re worse now.
“Crest…” He looks to me raising his chin in answer. “Is she… okay? I mean besides what happened today after seeing me, generally… is she doing okay?”
Rubbing his chin, he shrugs. “Before you… she was doing great. No issues for months.” His fist moves out quickly, and just as I think he’s about to hit me, he grabs my bicep in a soothing gesture and squeezes. “She’ll be fine. I think the fact she melted down in front of everyone will definitely get to her. But once she’s over that, she’ll be okay.” He pats my back in support. “You two kids are like fucking magnets, no matter how hard you try to pull yourselves apart, the friction pulling you together always seems to win out.”
Tension rolls over me as I rub the back of my neck. “We’re not together like that this time.”
He chuckles. “Give it time. You’ll both cave under the force of the pull. I’ve seen it. Love like yours… it can’t be denied no matter how hard you try to pull against it, kid.”
I take a deep breath, tension rolling through me. “I’m not fucking right for her.”
He laughs. “And she sure as hell isn’t right for you. But when did something being not right ever make it wrong? Whoever would have thought fucking peanut butter and jelly would have worked together, but there you go, look at that fine-ass combination.”
“You’re saying Mylee and me are like peanut butter and jelly?” I ask raising my brow with a crooked smirk.
“Exactly. Two things that are perfectly fine on their own, and putting them together should be weird as hell, but bam, it’s fucking amazing. A staple diet of kids everywhere.”
“You’re saying we’re a fucking staple diet?”
“Trax, you’re taking this too goddamn literally.” He laughs. “All I’m saying is when two things that shouldn’t work go together, they just… somehow work. Don’t fight it. It makes everything so much harder on you, but especially on Mylee. No one wants that. Just think about it, kid.”
My chest squeezes, my stomach’s in knots as I wonder if I can really do this. If I can sit back and give Mylee and me a shot. If I can let Mylee back into my life, knowing she has the power at any second to walk out and destroy me again. But then I remember my dark soul and how that might affect Mylee. Seeing my demons could influence hers, and that could be a problem.
“I can see your brain working overtime… just know you have my full support, Trax. I know I might have come off a little half-cocked in the room before, but… I just want w
hat’s best for Mylee. If you’re going to push yourself away from her, then I know it will only harm her. Especially when you really don’t want that either.”
“I love her, Crest. But there’s shit in my life I don’t want Mylee to be around.”
He places his hand on my shoulder. “I know, kid. I know. But she loves you, too. So damn much.” He shakes his head. “Don’t waste it.”
Tension swirls through me like a hurricane pulling me in two different directions—the heart wanting Mylee, the demon wanting blood. I take another long drink of my beer, not knowing what to do.
If I can push my shit aside, just be there for her, then maybe I can do this. Maybe, I can be here for her. Maybe I can be the man she needs while she’s under the protection of the MC.
He slaps my back dipping his head toward Cindi ordering us another round of beer.
Torque moves over to us. “It’s good to see you two on talking terms,” Torque grunts.
I roll my eyes. “Fuck up. Crest and I know how to handle each other, right?”
“Sure do. Honest talk and booze,” Crest replies making me chuckle.
“Glad you’ve got your shit straightened out, but I need to talk to you both. Crest, I think you know why. We need to do this as a club thing. I gotta call church with the patched members,” Torque relays, and I tense up taking a steadying breath.
I knew this was coming.
To be honest, I’ve wanted to know since the moment Crest and Mylee got here. But now, the time’s come. The club needs to know why they’re here. Why we’re looking after Mylee. What the hell are we getting ourselves into?
Crest takes a gulp of his beer then wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “Sure, I’m cool with that.”
Torque dips his chin while I stand from my seat along with Crest. We walk with my blood brother toward the chapel, he swings around and whistles gaining everyone’s attention. “Patched members… church. Now!”
Heading inside, our brothers follow then close the wooden door behind us. We each take a seat at the giant oval table while the ruckus of the clubroom fades out. Torque and I both look to Crest as he runs his hand through his thick white hair while swinging around a chair and taking a seat next to Torque at the head of the table.