by Debra Kayn
Glen looked at Stewart. "If you invited her here to try and convince her that an abusive past never existed, we'll be leaving."
Stewart held up his hands. "I'm trying to understand the situation."
"What I think Stewart is trying to say is he believes there are some inconsistencies in the claims made in the report." Lieutenant Gomez leaned back in his chair. "For his peace of mind, he wanted to ask Ms. Peterson a few questions."
"On any other case, prosecutable by the law, this meeting wouldn't be allowed. The P.D. would never allow someone to question the views of the victim," said Glen.
Gomez tapped the paper on his desk. "Unless Ms. Peterson takes out an order against Officer—"
"No. That's not what I want to do." Ingrid sighed. "I don't have anything against you, Stewart. I just want you to be careful. Evan has a side of him he's never shown you but if he feels cornered, you being his dad won't stop him from hurting you. He's controlling, and he gets mad easily. He threatened to hurt you, and my parents, if I told anyone about the accidents. That's why I kept quiet and pretended everything was okay between us. I believe he will hurt you, just like he hurt me."
"There are no accidents in abuse," said Glen, turning to Ingrid. "You don't have to explain yourself to him, or anyone."
"He doesn't...I can't," she whispered. "I think I want to leave."
Glen wrapped his arm around her. The meeting had been a mistake.
At the door, Stewart said, "Ingrid, Evan would never hurt you."
Ingrid's feet stopped, and she careened forward, grabbing Glen's vest to stay balanced. He held on to her, taking her weight as she managed to turn and face Evan's father from the hallway.
She opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. Glen frowned. He'd never seen her defeated. It wasn't in her nature. She was a survivor.
"You're done." He propelled her away from the room, through the lobby, and outside.
At the motorcycle, he handed her the helmet. She latched the chinstrap, staring out in thought. He couldn't put her on the back of the seat until he was sure she'd pay attention.
He reached into his pocket, pinched a few sunflower seeds, and put them in his mouth. Under the parking lot lights, he kept his gaze on the front door of the police station. The last thing he wanted was Officer Kingsley to come out before he could get Ingrid home. She'd had enough opposition from the Kingsley family.
She deserved better.
"I knew he wouldn't believe me," she said. "I should never have come."
"Put it behind you." He sat on the motorcycle. "I'll take you home."
She climbed on the Harley, wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled out of the parking lot. The late hour left the streets free of traffic. He let up on the throttle, not ready to arrive at her house and leave her yet. Going by the number of texts and voicemails she'd left him every day this week, he'd started to wonder how much comfort she got from her parents to still need him.
From the little amount of time he'd seen them all together, Ingrid was the bond that kept the family together. For some reason, Ingrid felt it was her responsibility that everyone was happy and taken care of. She never asked for anything in return. He'd started to believe she had no idea how to ask for help. Not from him, and definitely not from her parents.
Ingrid slipped her hands underneath his vest. His balls tightened, and pleasure swept through him. No amount of telling himself to keep his distance helped control the way he reacted to her. Hell, today, he'd gone up to the top deck on the cargo ship during work and the fucking breeze smelled like Ingrid. Fresh and energizing.
He pulled onto South Oak Street, shifted down, and rolled to a stop in the Peterson's driveway. Ingrid continued holding on to him. He cut the engine and took off his helmet.
A raindrop hit his face. He looked up at the dark sky. The overcast day, brisk breeze, and drop in temperature earlier had hinted at a summer storm coming through.
"You better get inside before the sky opens up," he said, patting her thigh.
"I don't care about the rain." She braced her chin on his shoulder blade. "Did you know that two large garbage sacks will cover a sleeping bag? It'll keep you dry if you sleep on high ground."
His chin fell to his chest, and he stared at the gas tank between his thighs. He never imagined what she had to do living on the street during the rainy months or even the nights it dropped down below freezing. He liked to think that she spent her time in the homeless shelters, but he knew that wasn't always the case.
"Garbage sacks are like gold. Everyone wants them." She sighed. "If I followed the city maintenance man on Thursday around eight o'clock in the morning when he emptied the litter bins on Lombard Street, I could take a few when he drove out of sight before anyone threw away their garbage. They were unused and clean. I always took a couple extras to trade for food."
There were many things he'd done in his life that he regretted. None of them compared to what Ingrid had gone through. His chest constricted. She'd learned to put her pride aside and do what was necessary to survive. He'd seen the way she'd lived before running away from Kingsley. She was not a girl used to going without.
She came from a middle-income family to one who lived within their means after her dad's accident. Maybe her ability to adapt came from her circumstances, and in the end, her skills at accepting changes gave her the strength to live for two years without any help, money, or shelter.
The rain grew heavier. Ingrid continued to hold on to him. He'd be soaked by the time Chuck relieved him from his shift of watching over Ingrid. Except, he wanted to stay. She needed to talk, and he wanted to listen.
He couldn't go there. Not again.
"I hate this..." She raised her head off him. "I don't feel like I fit in here anymore."
"With your parents?" he asked.
She slid off the bike without answering him. Standing in the rain, she stared at him as if looking for the answers. He had none because he'd felt disconnected before.
Bikers never fit in the way people believed. The need for freedom and the desire to ride came from that voice that said, you're different.
Ingrid would realize someday that life wasn't easier for her living on the street. Sometime soon, she'd understand that she'd adapted, and that changes a person. Just like Thalia being murdered when he was Ingrid's age had changed him.
Comfort would find her when she accepted the changes, and she started to take her day-to-day living for granted again. Her mom was probably asking her questions she was uncomfortable answering. He'd witnessed the pity coming from her mom and Ingrid felt it. He curled his fingers into a fist. No wonder she was wound up tight and uncomfortable. Only time would heal her relationships with other people, but there was no going back to how they were. She'd need to find and grow new friendships with other people who know her now, not then.
The rain mixed with the makeup outlining Ingrid's eyes, blurring the pain etched in her gaze in black. If only he could wash away every boundary, every problem, every responsibility, he'd make her feel comfortable in her world, in her skin, in his life. But, it'd never work. He was old enough to be her father. Over time, she'd look back and realize he'd done the right thing letting her go.
"I miss you." Her voice had cracked, and he wondered if there were tears in the rain on her face.
His heart pounded, and everything inside of him wanted to get off the bike and haul her into her bedroom. "You should get inside before you're soaked."
Ingrid ignored his advice and stepped forward, disregarding the downpour happening on both of them. If he looked, he'd bet steam rolled off his wet clothes. He ran hot for her. His blood, his personality, his love.
"Glen?" She stopped beside him. "Can you touch me?"
"Why?" The word ripped out of him like barbed wire.
She opened and closed her mouth, then finally said, "So that I can touch you back."
If he started, she'd finish, never giving up on him. He fed off her willingness, eager for more
. He was hanging, his feet slipping out from under him, and the noose tightening.
He reached out and hooked his finger inside her small hand. She latched onto him, and a gasp escaped her lips. Her powerful need for him was his undoing. Somehow, he tugged, and she climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs with nary a hesitation. He barely felt her settle on him and he cupped her wet face in his hands needing to know she was in front of him.
Ingrid raised her hands and cupped his jaw. Together, they held each other.
The rain beat down on them.
The air grew thicker, and he was glad for the cleansing water washing the guilt of holding her away. A cleanse from the desire to have her in his life and wanting her.
She made him weak. Nothing could keep him away from her.
Not time.
Not distance.
Not direction.
He still found himself coming back to Ingrid, again and again. She was worth every bit of fight it'd take to keep her in his life. There was only one thing stopping him. Her happiness.
"Blue?" He brought her forward and laid his forehead against hers, taking in her sweet scent that seemed more pungent in the storm. "I need to let you go."
"No." Her hands tightened on him. "You don't."
"You deserve to go on with your life and become...whoever you want to be. Go to school. Cut people's hair. Find someone closer to your age and—"
"What? Fall in love?" She moaned in frustration, crying out on a sob. "I have fallen in love. With you."
"That's not love." He closed his eyes against the sting of the raindrops blurring his vision. "That's gratitude for helping you, but there will come a time when you don't need my help. Reality will set in, and you'll want more from life than settling for someone my age."
"Never." Her head went back. "You're wrong. It's not just me who want this. You need me, too. I can feel it, Glen. It hurts."
She slid off his lap as easily as she'd climbed on him. He leaned forward and caught his forearms on the handlebar of his Harley. Her parting shot hung heavy over him, darker than the clouds in the sky.
Ingrid knocked on the door, and when her mom let her in, she slipped inside and shut herself away from him. He sat in the driveway, shaken to his bones. She was wrong.
He needed her more than she needed him.
Chapter 30
Pauly flipped the sign on the door of the bike shop to closed. Ingrid finished cleaning out the cash register and yawned. There wasn't a minute during her eight hours being back at work that she hadn't anticipated Evan coming in the building to make her pay for telling the truth.
All she wanted to do was go home, have a warm bath, and fall into bed.
"Remember, you're to stay in here with me until one of the Notus members comes over and picks you up." Pauly pushed one of the bicycles out of the aisle. "You did really good today, despite everything going on."
She slipped the cash into the bag. Her conversation with Pauly on the phone yesterday had gone better than she'd expected. She explained how an ex-boyfriend abused her and because she was dealing with how to protect herself, she'd missed work. Pauly's concern went beyond supporting her. "The club talked to you about me, didn't they?"
From the moment she'd arrived, she could tell Pauly knew more about her situation than she'd told him. He'd watched her while she dealt with the customers. During her lunch break, he closed the shop for a half hour and gave her a sub sandwich he'd brought from home. He stayed up front with her working the floor and out of the workroom in the back all day.
Pauly grunted. "It takes a village, my girl."
"I'm not a child." She slid the bundle of money toward him.
"Never said you were." Pauly weighed the pouch in his hand. "Tourists are coming in, and the weather cooling off brought the customers in. After the downpour last night, I wasn't sure we'd have anyone stop by today."
"Can I ask you something?" She leaned against the counter, and when he nodded, she said, "Do you have any kids?"
"Two girls and a boy." Pauly stood straighter and waved his hand. "Of course, they're grown and out on their own now, doing God knows what with who. They come around on holidays and birthdays. Since they support themselves, I can't complain. Doesn't look like any of them are in any hurry to settle down and give me some grandkids anytime soon, though."
He was a father, probably a good one. She pursed her lips. He was also older which meant he'd seen his share of relationships. She knew he was divorced and she had the feeling he'd been by himself for a long time.
"You might as well spit out what you want to ask." Pauly knocked on the side of his head. "I can see the wheels turning."
"Do you think age matters when it comes to love?" She concentrated on finding the right explanation for Pauly so that he would understand. "Let's say two people have an incredible connection...off the charts hot, but it's more."
"How much more?" asked Pauly, frowning.
"Age? Um, over twenty years difference." She cleared her throat. "They're both adults."
Pauly's double chin grew to a triple. "I'm not talking about the age difference. I want to know what's more than 'off the charts hot'?"
"Hm..." She looked down at her hands. "Have you ever listened to loud music, the kind with a heavy bass, and you could feel the booms in your chest and swear the music was changing your heartbeat, and you get lightheaded? It makes you feel alive and excited. Then when the music shuts off, your heartbeat returns to normal, and it's not the same. You're left feeling empty and disappointed. It's that way when you're together with that one special person, and when you're apart from him, it leaves you feeling blah. You can't hear the music."
"Ah..." Pauly shifted and leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his rotund chest. "That's not love. It's falling in love."
"I don't understand," she said.
"Well, it's like this." He leaned toward her. "Falling in love is full of good feelings and bad feelings. Highs and lows. It's like a roller coaster ride. Some people throw up their arms and enjoy the adrenaline rush. Others, they just throw up. They're too scared to take the ride to the top and fear having to get out of the seat."
She shook her head. Pauly had a tendency to babble. His comparing falling in love to a carnival ride was right up there with him explaining how to install a chain on a bike by reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.
"What you need to remember is to get to love, you have to ride the ups and downs of falling in love. Not everyone makes it back to the ground where it's stable. Some people keep circling and circling, until the adrenaline leaves...or like you said, they can't hear the music." Pauly looked at her and raised his brows. "The trick is taking the ride, surviving, and when life calms down, no matter how you handled the roller coaster, you held on and rode together, and you'd be first in line to buy another ticket to ride again."
She pursed her lips and nodded. "That makes sense, I think."
"Do you know what happens after you're done falling in love?" he asked.
She shook her head.
Pauly smiled softly. "Falling in love—those ups and downs—were only a test. When you finally pass, and you know you love someone, you realize that love was there from the very beginning."
"Couldn't someone skip all the pain and scary parts if they know it's love?"
He shook his head. "You can't take two people and tell them to love each other. They both have to prove their feelings, and then there's the whole thing about showing your vulnerable side to another person. Some people aren't willing to pay the price. They won't go on the ride."
She nodded. Either she was overtired, or Pauly's analogy was starting to make sense. Her and Glen were at different points. She had her arms up on the rollercoaster, and he was throwing up.
Something about falling in love scared Glen, and it had nothing to do with their age difference.
She reached over and squeezed Pauly's wrist. "Thanks."
The bell on the door chimed. She looked u
p, expecting Glen and found Chuck.
"I'm your ride." Chuck glanced back through the door. "Ready?"
"Yeah." She grabbed her purse and walked across the shop.
Chuck looked over her head at Pauly. "Thanks for watching out for her."
"Not a problem," said Pauly. "I'll lock the door behind you."
"See you tomorrow, boss." Ingrid pushed against the door and Chuck grabbed her arm. "What?"
"Let me go first. You stick to my side, and we're going to walk straight across the street to my motorcycle parked outside Vavoom's." Chuck waited for her reply, and when she only nodded, he smiled. A totally fake smile.
She walked out with him and waited on the sidewalk for traffic to ease. "Bad day?"
"It could've been worse." Chuck motioned her forward.
She stepped off the curb and hurried to get across the street. At his motorcycle, she spotted Glen's bike at the curb and looked toward the bar. Unable to see through the darkened windows, she asked, "Why isn't Glen taking me home?"
"He's busy." Chuck handed her a helmet. "Put that on."
She prepared to ride and got on back of Chuck's motorcycle. The seat felt smaller than the one on Glen's bike, and she leaned to the side to find the other foot peg.
Chuck patted her leg. "Scoot up."
She looked down and found inches between her body and Chuck's. Sighing, she moved forward and held on to his sides above his belt.
Chuck looked over his shoulder. "You're going to have to hold on better than that."
She reached around him and clasped her hands, keeping her fingers off Chuck, because holding him was nothing like holding Glen. The engine rumbled to life, and the forward momentum had her forgetting about how awkward it was to ride with Glen's MC brother.
The wind dashed all her hope that she'd be able to at least see Glen for five minutes tonight, and her mind wandered to what she'd say on her nightly text to him. In Pauly's words, she was riding one of the lows of falling in love and if Glen also felt nauseous at the dip in their relationship how was she to get them in the position to ride to the top?