Hard Reality

by Debra Kayn

  Returning to the living room, she said, "Sorry. I thought you took the one I left in your room...that day, with you."

  "Did you need the pistol?" He dropped his gaze to her waist. "You're not wearing your purse."

  "I went to Wayne and Clara's house."

  "Without the pistol?"

  She nodded. "You didn't come home last night, and Clara said you were with the guys today, and I wasn't happy with the answers I received that you were 'being taken care of' so I drove over there to see you."

  His gaze softened. "Honey..."

  She waved her hand to stop him. "You're free to come and go, and do whatever you want. I was just concerned. I thought you were coming home after the search last night."

  "Gracie..."

  "I missed you. Okay." She inhaled deeply. "I don't know if you're feeling the same way as I am because you haven't talked to me. I feel stupid, but you can't expect me to live with you every single day and..." She patted her chest. "Share things with you that I never thought I'd talk to you about."

  "Gracie—"

  "We had sex. Lots of sex, Rich." She clamped her mouth shut as his lips parted.

  Rich approached her. She stilled, the need to touch him and reassure herself that he was okay left her trembling.

  "Honey, I could really use a kiss right now," he said, his gravelly voice rolling through her.

  She raised up on her toes, leaning toward him. His hands landed on her waist, and he tenderly placed his lips on hers. She slipped her hands up and held on to his shirt, opening her mouth, needing him to lend her some of his strength.

  He pulled back, kissed her lightly, and said, "It's been a rough twenty-four hours."

  "What can I do?" She held on to him. "Do you want dinner?"

  "Maybe later."

  A spark of excitement filled her. That meant he planned on staying at the house.

  "I need to talk to you." He raised his brows. "A lot of shit has happened."

  "Of course." She led him to the couch.

  He sat down and hooked his finger with hers. She shifted, planning on sitting on his lap, and he stopped her.

  "I need you to sit beside me in case you need to move away from me."

  She removed her hand, suddenly afraid of what he had to say. Instinct told her it was more about him, pushing her away, and having a way out of the situation.

  "You're making me nervous," she said.

  "Why?"

  She rubbed her arms. "Do you have something bad to say?"

  "In some ways." He looked around the room.

  Understanding what he was looking for, she walked into the kitchen and returned with a red Solo cup.

  "Thanks." He put the cup between his legs and pulled out his can of chew.

  His chewing tobacco never bothered her. It was better than drinking, and if it gave him some calmness in his life or a distraction from drinking, she'd gladly make it convenient for him to get that peace.

  "I'm staying in St. John's." He pushed the wad of tobacco deep underneath his lip. "I'll be riding with Notus Motorcycle Club again."

  Her spine straightened. That was not what she'd expected to hear.

  "Th-that's wonderful."

  "Yeah..." He nodded. "I spent all night talking with the others. I told them what kept me away. Then, I went over to the Bowers and without telling them why I left their lives, told them I was staying."

  "How was that?" She reached out to take his hand and pulled back before she made contact, afraid of doing anything to stop him from talking.

  "Hard." He spit in the cup. "It was like walking back in time. Nothing has changed at the house. I practically lived there growing up, you know."

  "Right," she whispered.

  She'd been to the Bowers many times. There were reminders of Thalia everywhere you look. Her bedroom remained the same since the day she went missing. While she didn't have the honor of knowing Thalia, she felt connected to the young woman for what she went through with Roy Jenkins.

  "Everything snowballed, and I was making decisions, reconnecting, and I should've talked to you first but..." He grimaced. "We've got something going on here, and it doesn't have anything to do with me riding under the Notus colors. Whether we're together or not, that part of my life is going forward."

  "I will always be a part of Notus." She inhaled deeply and shook her head. "Not in the club, obviously, but my sister is with Wayne, and the rest of the guys are my friends. They're a part of my life, and I don't see that changing, so I'm always going to be around." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't understand what you're saying...exactly. If we're together or not?"

  "I want to be with you." His gaze intensified. "You need to know about me, and when you've got all the information, it'll be you who makes the decision if you want me back."

  "Of course, I'll want you." She laid her hand on his thigh and leaned closer. "I'm falling in love with you."

  He frowned. "That might change."

  "Then, tell me what it is that will change my mind."

  He blew out his breath, set his cup on the coffee table, and stood. She shifted and pulled her feet onto the couch and grabbed the throw pillow, hugging the cushion to her stomach.

  "I'm an alcoholic." He walked over to the window and turned around to face her.

  He put distance between them, and she didn't like it. She remained quiet while he stated the obvious. She wasn't delusional about what comes with loving someone who had an addiction. She'd be the first to admit that knowing the other Notus members would be front and center on making sure Rich wouldn't drink and if he slipped, they'd be right here to make sure he got sober again had a lot to do with her comfort level and believing she could handle it if he picked up a bottle again.

  Because she had her own trouble coping every day, she understood how he would struggle on a daily basis.

  "I wasn't always a drinker." He leaned against the wall. "I grew up with a mom who drank every day. I never knew her when she was sober, and I hated it. Unfortunately, seeing someone drink and put you last on their list of things to care about does influence your feelings."

  She hadn't heard that before.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don't know where to fucking start."

  She remained quiet. This was his story to tell.

  "I guess I'll tell you about when Thalia was killed. You okay with that?" His concerned gaze settled on her.

  "Yes." No.

  She'd been there already. Roy Jenkins told her every little detail about the crimes he'd committed. Details that nobody knew about and would never know because she'd never speak about them. To anyone.

  "I loved Thalia. Young love, true love, forever love...I don't know. I just knew at twenty years old, I loved her. It was a fucked-up time when she disappeared. The police questioned me because I was her boyfriend and a biker. I felt like they should've been searching harder for her rather than looking at me as a suspect." He sat down in the nearest chair and braced his elbows on his knees, keeping eye contact with Gracie. "I felt the others—who were the people that knew me the best—were also having their doubts."

  "Oh, Rich." She shook her head. "They never doubted you."

  He shrugged. "It's how I felt. I was young. Not old enough to deal with anything. I was scared shitless and didn't understand how to deal with the emotions. Didn't have control of my anger. Then, the police found Thalia and the truth came out about her murder. I can't even remember how the police quietly stopping calling me a suspect. It felt personal, you know? At the time, I just wanted everyone out looking for her."

  Rich's head dropped between his arms. Her tongue stuck to the top of her dry mouth. She suspected he hadn't spoken Thalia's name in twenty-five years.

  He raised his gaze. "I was angry. So, fucking mad. I couldn't handle how everyone was crying all the time or the stupid ass words people offered me as comfort by telling me Thalia was no longer suffering because she had suffered."

  He was right. She swallowed hard. Thalia had
gone through unspeakable things. She'd heard the confession from Thalia's killer, and she'd never be able to forget.

  "I knew her better than anyone. She would've survived anything he'd done to her if he hadn't killed her." He closed his eyes an extra beat, and when he reopened them, they'd softened. "Like you. She would've survived because she was strong, like you."

  Her chest constricted and her vision blurred. She swiped the tear at the corner of her eye. Thalia hadn't been given a chance because Jenkins was never caught before he killed her.

  "Back then, I wanted to find the person responsible for killing her. I rode around town looking at everyone. I staked out where Thalia had worked, where she enjoyed walking, and hoped the murderer would return to those spots." He stood, his agitation filling the room. "I was lost to everything going on around me. One day meshed with the next. I found myself at the truck stop—there's a restaurant there, trucks coming and going all day and night."

  She lifted her head. None of the others had described the time after Thalia's death the same way as Rich.

  "This guy came out of the truck stop and walked a woman behind the building." His monotone voice sent chills down her spine. "The woman had on high heels and a short skirt—anyone looking could tell what she was hanging out there for. It was common knowledge in St. John's of what you could purchase there on a regular basis."

  Her whole body vibrated, caught up in his story. She had to keep reminding herself that he had been twenty years old when all that had happened. She'd been twenty-seven years old when her father died, and when she'd found out that her mother hadn't run away but been murdered. At the time, she and Clara had been devastated as if someone had stolen everyone they'd loved. She couldn't imagine dealing with loss at such a young age as Rich, dealing with Thalia's murder.

  "I killed him," blurted Rich.

  Her head snapped up. He'd killed who?

  Chapter 36

  Clara pressed her hands against the couch cushion. "Wh-who did you kill?"

  Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he ran a hand across his face. He was losing her.

  He wanted to tell her everything in a big rush to get the truth out there for her to digest, but he forced himself to slow down.

  She was a good woman who'd lived through the worst thing possible. He expected too much from her. She'd already gone through hell and didn't deserve to hear him rehash Thalia's murder when she lived with the burden of knowing the details. No one in their right mind would condone his behavior, no matter how much he tried to explain himself.

  "I killed the man at the truck stop." He willed himself to stand still. "The woman, whatever her intentions that night, was...was scared to death. She fought. She yelled, and the man wouldn't let her go. I saw Thalia in here." He tapped his fist against his head. "I imagined her fighting. I imagined her screaming for me. I imaged Thalia struggling for her life knowing that man was going to kill her in the process of raping her. Next thing I knew, I was standing over his body. The man had a bullet in the back of his head. The woman was long gone. And, I had a pistol in my hand."

  She covered her mouth.

  "I got scared." He looked away and sucked in a breath. "I couldn't think of what I was supposed to do. I couldn't even remember shooting him. I couldn't go to my mom because she was always drunk. I couldn't go to Mr. and Mrs. B because they'd just lost their daughter and I would not put more pain on them."

  "What about the Notus members?" she whispered. "They would've helped you."

  Her confidence and trust in the men who'd saved her weren't misplaced. He'd seen with his own eyes and heard with his own ears how they would do anything for her. They'd saved her life by capturing Roy Jenkins, and Thad had the pleasure of extracting justice on Thalia's killer and Gracie's abductor. As a club, they'd committed vigilante justice in honor of many victims.

  "Wayne, Thad, Glen, and Chuck were all twenty years old, too." He slowly walked forward and sat on the coffee table in front of her. "I couldn't handle what I'd done, and I knew they couldn't either. Hell, we were kids acting like men or at least trying to find our way. So, I went home. Afraid every second a cop would be knocking on the door ready to arrest me for murder. When that didn't happen right away, I went over to Chuck's mom's house. I don't know if I had planned to confide in him or how long I stayed. He tells me we fought—I don't remember. Next thing I know, I'm halfway across the state of Washington on the side of the road, out of gas, and scared shitless. I don't know how I got gas to go on, but I made it over the border into California. I can't tell you the places I went, how I got there, but I can tell you that the moment I realized I was standing in the Komoon clubhouse, I wanted a drink."

  Gracie opened her mouth and closed it again. Her lack of judgment worried him. He'd prepared for shock, hurt, and fear from her. Instead, she simply stared. He had no idea if he should continue talking or stop.

  "It destroyed me not to remember killing the man or the chunks of time afterward that are just gone...blank. I lost something inside myself. There was nothing—not one little piece of me—I could grab on to and drag myself up to accept that I'd killed a man in cold blood. I killed him when I was sober, and the only way I could take myself out of my head was to drink. If I kept drinking, I was incapable of taking care of myself, much less kill someone else. When the alcohol wore off, I wanted to go home. I wanted Notus. But, I was scared of blacking out again around one of them. We fought like all guys do, and what if I took it too far? What if I got angry? Would I have killed one of them, too?"

  Gracie closed her eyes.

  He waited until she looked at him again. "The only way I could make sure I protected my MC brothers, their parents, and everyone I had in my life that meant everything to me was if I stayed away." He rubbed her leg, unable to not touch her any longer. "I couldn't trust myself. I feared killing someone else if I checked out, maybe another innocent person, because I couldn't...I was so fucking angry and scared, and those emotions consumed me until I couldn't control myself any longer."

  She took the pillow off her lap and grabbed his hand, leaning forward. "That's how you knew what to do when I panicked and thought you were someone else trying to hurt me."

  "Yeah, honey." He brought her hand up to his lips. "When fear overwhelms you, you slip back to the time that gave you fear. For me, it's anger. I've lived with anger my whole life. It kills me, knowing you go through the same thing. It's unfair and if I could do something to make sure it never happens to you again, I will. I don't understand why it happens—"

  "There's a medical term for it. It's brought on by extreme emotions, more than the mind can handle, and causes a short-term fugue state. The way my doctor explained it, for me, any type of panic or terror where I'm reminded of what happened to me can set me off. Like you laying on top of me." She squeezed his hand. "There's medicine. Anxiety medicine that can calm you, so you don't black out. I needed to take it after being abducted and hated how it made me feel. So, instead, I carried the pistol, secured my house, and made sure only to go out in the daytime, to ease my fears. But, that doesn't mean I won't take medicine if I need it. I took a pill when you first moved in."

  His heart raced in his chest. "I scared you."

  "The situation scared me. I was once again put into a vulnerable position of having a strange man—a drunk man, living with me. But, I owed Notus. I wanted to help them." She gazed at him. "When was the last time you've blacked out and lost time?"

  He shook his head. "It doesn’t happen when I'm drinking."

  "You could go to the doctor," she said quietly.

  "And, explain how I'm a murderer?" He shook his head. "I'm an alcoholic, honey. I can't take any medicine."

  "You self-medicated by drinking," she said.

  "Yeah, and I know what an alcoholic looks like, and it's not something I ever wanted to be."

  She scooted forward and brought his hands to her chest, holding onto him. "You do realize that you saved the woman who was attacked, right?"

&
nbsp; "I don't see it that way because I had no control over the situation."

  Not knowing how much Gracie understood the purpose of Notus Motorcycle Club, he could only talk about his situation.

  The Notus members controlled their actions. Every justice they served was done when all avenues were exhausted. Wrong in the eyes of the law, appreciated by every citizen who takes their safety for granted.

  What he'd committed was murder.

  "Excuse me." Gracie let go of him, stood, and walked out of the room.

  He got up from the coffee table and walked over to the window. Having never been in a situation where he put every dark deed and fear on the table to a woman he'd begun to love, he was out of options.

  He gave her the truth.

  What she decided to do with that was up to her. She could tell him to leave, call the police, or hate him for what he'd done to her.

  He walked over and grabbed the cup on the coffee table, spitting his tobacco out. Unable to stay away from Gracie, he went into the kitchen, threw away the cup, and got a long drink of water.

  His sober days were few and far between over the years. He'd tried not drinking while with Komoon. He'd go a few days, sometimes a few weeks, and something would drive him back to tipping the bottle. During those straight days, his desire to come back to St. John's, to his brothers, to his family, were strong. Strong enough he knew he couldn't bring his shit back and dump everything at their feet.

  Gracie walked down the stairs. He turned to her, and she stopped in front of him. Fuck, she was everything to him.

  He never expected to fall in love. He wasn't looking for a woman. Little by little, he noticed the things she'd done for him.

  The meals she cooked like clockwork.

  Her hurry past the guest bedroom door at the beginning.

  The way she took her phone out of her pocket ten seconds before her sister called as if she knew Clara would be calling.

  When she'd bought him cans of chew, he could've kissed her. He was dealing with his MC brothers, wanting a drink, and she had seen past the asshole behavior and tried to comfort him.