Bear leans back, and his hands tap my thighs as if he wants to make sure he has my full attention. "You'd never be one of them, Bree. For the record, you're the first woman to sleep in my bed in well over a year. I can't say I didn't enjoy the perks of being president ever, but I'm looking for something a little deeper than a courtesy screw."
My skin prickles at his last words because up until he says it, it's precisely what I'd been thinking.
"I do want to know more about your relationship with David, and I'm willing to wait until you're ready to talk."
Bear moves his hands off my legs. One goes to his face, wipes it across his chin, and looks away from me.
Fuck. I've done it again. Bear is already tensing up, and I'm losing him.
"There I go again with my big mouth." I force a grin, but it's no use. Bear won't even look at me now. It's a full minute, if not longer before he snaps back to, and I register in his eyes again.
"Let's go for a ride. I can show you the neighborhood."
It’s an unexpected twist, but I latch on to it as if Bear is offering me a lifeline. "I'd love that."
"Good." He stands, but he doesn't reach for me or even really look at me. He's far away like David used to get. "Give me ten to get someone to cover the shop, and I'll meet you back here."
I tell him sure, but I doubt he even heard me. His mind is so preoccupied.
I haven't been out of the clubhouse in two days, and being with Bear hasn't left much time for primping. I take my bag from the barstool next to me and head for the multi-stall bathroom right outside the bar.
I'm not in the bathroom a minute before one of the women from the corner table walks in and props a hip on the counter next to where I am standing. She smells of stale beer and smoke and baby powder perfume like the kind they sell in cheap drugstores. It's almost enough to make my stomach roll.
"You with Bear now?" she asks, her voice so sweet it hurts my ears.
“I’m not with anyone.” I don't look at her and, instead, study my reflection in the mirror. I only brought a few essential makeup supplies in my bag, and I've done the best I can with them. My hair is wild with curls that I usually keep tamed with a flat iron or a blow-out, but I didn't have either option today, so I brush it out with my hands and pull it back into a bun.
"You can't ride a bike like that," she says, eyeing my mass of curls at the top of my head.
Before I can pull away, her fingers are unworking my bun and pulling my hair straight down into a low ponytail.
"Bear won't let you ride without a helmet, and it won't fit over your hair unless you wear it lower." She works her fingers through the length of hair, and from the reflection in the mirror, I watch her separate my strands into three sections and begin to braid it. I'm not sure if she's being sincere or is about to pull out a knife and cut off the braid, so I don't move. "None of the older guys allow girls on their bikes without a helmet. My guy isn't so caring."
Her voice carries a sadness I can't ignore. When she reaches the bottom of my braid, I pull a hair tie off of my wrist and hand it to her. "Which one is your guy?"
She smiles and glances at our reflection in the mirror. "Logan. They'll call him Gears when he gets his patch, but for now, he's only a prospect."
I glance at her reflection, and her smile widens. "Prospects aren't patched. It's kind of like they are rushing a frat, only this one is for life. Once they are patched, they become true members. When Logan gets his next year, I'll be an official ol' lady."
For a second, I give her a once over and can't figure out how she's old. She's twenty-three at best even if her hair is dyed so platinum blonde it's turned white.
"Ol'Lady means I belong to a member. Like you and Bear. For now, I'm just a mama and the property of the club."
I jerk back, and she lets go of my beautiful new braid. Her hands go up for a second as if to show me she means no harm, and she backs away from me a step.
"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I'm just." I'm not sure what I am...except I know I don't belong to anyone.
"It's okay. I was weary of the rules when I first came here too. It's an adjustment to throw away everything you follow from the outside world and realize the club rules are the only ones that matter, but you'll get the hang of it after a while."
"I don't want to get the hang of it." It's out of my mouth before I can stop myself. My tone is harsh, and I see it reflected in her eyes. I don't even know her name, and she's been nice. Why am I yelling at her?
"I'm sorry." I reach for her arm and pat it. "I'm just...out of my element here. It's a lot to take in. I'm Bree, by the way."
She glances back up and into my eyes. "They call me Dawn here, but my real name is Meredith. Logan says it sounds like a bitch name, and I'm the first thing he thinks of in the morning so," she holds her hands out wide. "Dawn, it is. I'm sure Bear will think of something more clever for you."
I'm about to yell again, but this time I stop myself and back the words down my throat. There is no way in hell, Bear, or anyone else is changing my name or owning me. I need to remember where I am and respect Dawn's decision to live this way. "I think I'd rather keep my own name. And," I add with a shake of my head. "Bear and I aren't together. I'm not his. I helped him out of a tight situation, and now he's returning the favor."
Her eyes narrow on me before she grins, and the mood in the bathroom lightens. "If you say so." She glides her hand along the bathroom counter on her way to the door. "You know what they say about a girl on the back of a member’s bike?"
She's out the door before I can ask what her comment means.
After a quick glance in the mirror and pouring all of my stuff back into my bag and stowing it with Gunner behind the bar, I meet Bear and Doc outside the front door. Sure enough, Bear has a black leather jacket throw across the bike behind him and is handing me a helmet.
He's wearing a matching jacket with patches over the front two panels. The top right one says president, and the round one underneath is a picture of the front of a motorcycle with Tempest Elite stitched in white letters underneath. On his left side is a large, brown colored bear with one fierce paw raised next to its massive head with his claws stitched in silver thread. The patch is a fair representation of the man I met at the bar two nights ago.
I take a moment to take all of Bear in. His outreached hand. The jacket he's found for me. The yellowing bruise on his cheek. He's not at all the person who was too drunk to stand on his own two feet in a bar fight. He's also not the lost soul who grabbed my wrist and left a bruise while suffering a night terror. The man before me is so much more. I'm lost in the thought for longer than I intend, and I can tell it makes Bear uneasy. He drops the helmet on his bike seat and holds the jacket up for me to slip into.
It also has patches, I notice as I slide one arm in. The same motorcycle front as Bear's, though I don't recognize the rest.
"Everly's on loan from Gunner," Bear says with a smile when I turn around, and he fixes the collar for me. "The helmet too. Gunner keeps her old one here just in case."
Doc makes a deep guttural sound and narrows his gaze at me. "Better go slow with that one, Bear. We don't need her skin left all over the asphalt."
I glance at Doc and then at Bear, but neither of them speak. I've already learned with Doc, it's better not to ask.
"Don't listen to him. He's getting bitter in his old age." Bear hands me the helmet. When I just stand there, staring at it as I flip it around in my hands, he laughs, takes it from me, and slowly lowers it over my face. There is a visor on the front that makes everything seem dark until Bear lifts it.
"You'll want to put it back down when we're on the road. It’ll keep the bugs out of your mouth." He straddles the bike, and I throw one leg over the back, trying to be as graceful as he was. Not a chance I looked anything like him. My knee hits the seat, and the bike begins to tip before Bear reaches behind him and leads my leg over the long seat and to the other side.
His fingers grip my outer thigh, and
before I know it, he's pushing me up and on the seat, one-handed. I know what those hands are capable of. I remember from last night, and those memories flooding my head right now aren't helping me focus.
"Hold on here," Bear says as he reaches for my arm and wraps it around his lower abs. Then the other hand. When he starts the engine, I clench my arms around him, squeezing his muscles as tightly as I am able. My chest molds to his back, and my thighs grip onto his. If I fall off of this bike, Bear is coming with me, I'm holding on to him so tightly.
I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to stay on when he pulls forward, but Bear moves slowly, and once we are on the road, he holds one hand over my trembling ones, and I know I'm not going to fall. Bear won't let me.
After a few stops and starts for traffic and intersections, he turns onto a long road, and I ease into Bear's back with my head braced on his shoulder. The world stands still around us as we zoom by. Buildings blur into bridges then open roads, and by the time I'm fully relaxed into Bear, the scene is a never-ending blanket of green leaves dotted by brown tree trunks and the occasional building.
I see why he loves this. The freedom of the road. Not a care able to keep up as you speed along. I wonder if David ever did this. If he ever had the chance to put the weight of his fears down for long enough to enjoy a simple pleasure. I don't think he ever did, and that thought makes my eyes sting and breath catch.
I want to lift the visor and wipe my eyes, but I'm not going to let go of Bear, so I close them instead, and I picture David in Bear's world. The brotherhood surrounding him. A business supported by himself and friends.
Maybe if he'd had more people in his life like Doc and Gunner and Scout, he'd still be with me.
Maybe I just wasn't enough to save him.
Bear pulls off at an exit on the highway, and we circle up to a street lined with little shops and restaurants and houses. He weaves around a few cars parked on the side of the narrow road until he stops in front of a diner housed in what looks like an old metal RV.
Bear doesn't say anything as he turns the bike off and reaches back to help me take off the helmet and dismount. I've blinked back my tears enough that I don't think he notices I spend the last five minutes of our ride silently crying.
Dawn was right about the hair. My braid is still in place and secure thanks to her, but my legs wobble like I've run a marathon, and as I stand, I have to hold Bear's shoulder to keep from falling.
"Are you hungry?" Bear asks as he dismounts. He nods to the diner. "Your brother and I came here often to talk when we first came back."
My balance is thrown off, not by Bear's sudden closeness but by his words. I try to take a step forward, but my knees give out, and before I hit the ground, Bear's arms are around me, holding me to his solid chest.
Damn, he smells so good. He feels so good. He looks oh so good. I'm fucked.
"You okay there?" He's so solid and warm, I don't want to let go. But I do.
"I'm fine. I guess I was holding on a little too tight on the bike."
"I noticed." He smiles a wicked smile that sends tingles dancing through my body before he strolls off toward the diner door.
"I hope I didn't hurt you," I say as I step under his arm to enter. "I've just never ridden before and--"
"You're fine," he says, cutting me off. I'm thankful for the interruption. I had no plan for how to end that sentence, and the way his smile makes me feel, I'm afraid of what I may have said.
"You said you and David met here?" A change of subject is what we both need. "David never told me about coming to New York."
The waitress drops off two menus, and Bear orders two glasses of water before she steps away. "He didn't tell you a lot. I'm guessing that is why you're here."
"I thought we told each other everything." I pretend to read my menu. I couldn't eat right now if the waitress dropped a large slice of my favorite fudge iced chocolate cake in front of me. But I also can't have this conversation while looking into Bear's eyes. He's too intuitive. He reads me too well.
"There are some things that can't be shared with people you love."
I look up from my menu and stare into Bear's deep brown eyes. I'm shocked I've brought up David, and he didn't deflect the conversation. "I have to disagree. What good is caring for someone if you can't trust them with your darkest fears."
As if it's a wave breaking over his face, I see Bear begin to close me out again, and I can't take it. I reach over the table for his hand and hold it. "That's what family is all about."
Bear sits too quiet. He doesn't pull away from my hand, but I feel him leaving me nonetheless until a darkness enters his eyes. "It's not about trust, Bree. It's about pain. David didn't want to hurt you."
I narrow my gaze at him, trying to understand. David couldn't hurt me if he tried. Bear's argument has no logic. I'm about to tell him when a shadow falls over our table.
Bear takes two waters from the waitress, and when she begins to ask for our order, he tells her to come back later. "Why did you seek me out, Bree? What did David tell you that made you go through this much trouble."
He pulls free from me and props one arm over the back of the booth, and I realize for the first time his body takes up his whole side of the table. He's massive where David was wiry at best. I'm not sure what made me think of the comparison, but seeing Bear through David's eyes, as a leader, I can understand why David chose him to confide in over me.
"It's not really any one thing he said or did," I begin. My voice cracks, and I clear my thoughts to dislodge the words. "It's the things he didn't say. David was always a quiet guy, but it was different when he returned. He wasn't just quiet, he was--"
"Withdrawn," Bear interrupts.
I nod. "Exactly. Even in a room full of our friends, he seems lonely. I asked him many times about it, but he'd only smile and tell me an excuse like he was tired, or had a headache, or didn't sleep well."
"All of those could have been true."
The corner of my mouth twitches in that way it does before I cry. I don't know why? I'm nowhere near tears. But talking about David is taking so much strength, I'm not sure how long I can hold up.
"That's what his doctor said, too, just before David quit going."
Bear runs a hand over his chin back and forth. "The doctor. Your idea or his?"
"Mine." I don't like where this conversation is leading. "He wasn't okay, Jordan. It was like the David that left and the David that returned weren't even related."
Bear's eyes grow wide for a second before he has his expression under control again, and I realize my slip. I'm getting comfortable with him. The name proves it. But, falling for Bear isn't going to get me the hard answers I need.
"Bear," I correct myself. "You were with him abroad. You know what he saw. What he went through. What he wouldn't tell me. You're not…" emotion takes over, and I almost say suicidal, but I pull it back in at the last second. "You just seem to have adapted better, I guess, is what I'm saying."
Bear laughs one high and tight beat of a laugh and rubs his chin again. "You think I've adapted?" He leans over the table closer to me. "Fuck, Bree. Have you already forgotten the other night? Pulling me off your car?" He reaches for my arm and holds my bruised wrist between us. "You think I don't know how this happened to you? You think I don't hate myself for hurting you or making you lie to me about it? I'm not fucking adjusted to shit."
I jerk my arm free and lean back in the booth to escape the harshness in his tone, but there is no getting away from it. Bear scows at me, and I know I've hit a nerve. Good. Maybe this will be the line we both need in the sand.
"That's not exactly what I meant. I see how much you're struggling. How Doc and Gunner and the rest are trained to step in when you begin to lose control. I'm not blind, Bear. But..." The words become difficult again. I pause to find the right ones that won't upset him further, but will still get my point across. "You're here. You're living, maybe not the life you had before your deployment, but you're func
tioning. You have a business. You have friends. You're not completely shut off too…"
I choke on family. I can't bring myself to say it.
"I'm the only family David has. I'm the only person on this earth who he could trust with his secrets. He should have told me. He should have let me in."
"And he didn't trust you could handle this one, and it's killing you."
"No."
"You're even angry about it." Bear isn't looking at me, he's looking through me. Something I've said hasn't hit him right, and he's getting tense. I shiver at the sudden tension between us.
"What? No."
"Did you ever stop to think maybe your brother was protecting you?" Bear drops his hands to the table between us. They are both fisted. "He was protecting you, and you forced him to do the thing he knew would hurt you. Can you blame him for pulling away."
The corner of my mouth quivers again, but this time I can't stop it from shaking. It's not tears making it hard to catch my breath. It's anger.
"I loved my brother. I pushed because I wanted him to know he didn't have to face his fears alone. I wanted him to confide in me so I could understand. And help him."
Bear's eyes dart back and forth between mine. His jaw is set, and his mouth flat. "Or, you pushed because you couldn't have your old life back until you fixed him."
I'm in shock. My chest is tight, and my breath catches. Why is Bear doing this? Why is he pushing back at me so hard? I can't even look at Bear without getting tears in my eyes. "Why are you trying to hurt me?"
He looks away from me for a second before looking back, and I'm sure I see more anger in his expression than I did the night I refused to leave him at the gate of the club. "Because I've had my fair share of people thinking they can fix me. I'm not broken, Bree. I'm angry and damaged, and I've seen shit no man should ever see, but I'm not fucking broken, and neither is your brother, so do yourself a favor and stop trying to fix him to make yourself feel better."
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