by Debra Kayn
Outside, she inhaled deeply and gazed up at the star-filled sky. A few cars drove by, and she followed the sidewalk, marking the way she came, and kept her gaze forward, her chin up, and her arms swinging.
Once she crossed the street and headed to Federal Inn, she lost the safety of the streetlights and picked up her pace.
A man yelled out, and a loud bark of laughter quickly followed. She glanced behind her. Unable to detect which direction the noise came from, she kept walking forward and concentrated on not tripping over any of the cracks in the old sidewalk.
Ten minutes later, she walked into the lobby at the Inn. Relief flooded her body, and she yawned. She'd successfully spent the night out with others and traveled alone both ways to town safely. Exhausted, she couldn't help smiling at what she'd achieved on her own as she walked to her room.
The only thing missing in her perfect night out was Bear. Throughout the night, one thing became apparent. The relationships the Moroad women had with their men were different than what she had with Bear. There was a confidence in each of them.
Without knowing the women better, she listened closely to the way they talked, bragged, and even made fun of the men's rather brisk manliness when they weren't around. The women seemed to believe they could push their men, piss them off, and know without a doubt that nothing would make the men leave them.
They took the love of their men for granted. As if the feelings of their men would never change toward them. She fingered the scar on her neck. Imagining Bear loving her beyond anything else, nothing she did toward him would ever matter, seemed impossible. Impossibly good.
Chapter Twenty Nine
The branch hanging over the edge of the river caught Madison's sundress. She reached behind her and yanked. The rasp of the material ripping stopped her from tugging more.
A three-inch tear above her hem snared on the twig. The light purple color of the material blurred in her vision, and she blinked madly, upset at the tears that refused to stop. Unable to see how the branch held on to the material, she angrily jerked away from the bush, ripping her dress more.
Nothing had gone right today.
Her trip to buy sunscreen lotion at the store ended with the cashier rudely asking her three times if she wanted to pay by cash or use her debit card. While she searched her purse for a ten-dollar bill, she ignored answering her by notepad. All she had to do was find her money. When she finally produced the cash and set it on the counter, the cashier harrumphed in irritation at not getting an answer from Madison.
Embarrassed in front of the line of customers behind her, she refused to write a note and explain why she couldn't talk.
Madison trudged through the ankle deep water back to the river bank. The longer the tears continued to roll, the angrier she grew. One thing after another seemed determined to show her how stupid she was for trying to do the simplest thing.
After the store fiasco, she refused to find someone who could answer her question about where to locate an easy, flat spot by the river to cool off. Determined to follow the river through town on her own, she accidently walked upon two fishermen who thought catcalling and asking her to hang with them for the day funny. When she couldn't tell them she wasn't interested and to leave her alone, they continued heckling her about fishing for a man.
The incident scared her. There was nobody else around to help her if they approached. She'd wandered to the edge of town, far away from the general public. Her worry that one of the men would recognize her as a prostitute never entered her mind. She was a woman. A mute. The dangers real, she faced the problem by running away.
On the way back to the inn, she'd unintentionally found an unoccupied spot on the river and attempted for the last time to succeed at finding her way today and thought she'd relax. She sat down on the rocks and wiped her eyes. Now her dress was ruined and her good mood gone.
She hated the circumstances. Hated her living situation. Hated that she'd left a reliable and safe job. She picked up a rock and hurled it toward the water. Most of all, she hated wanting to give up.
The pebble landed on the bank, jumped two times, and fell short of the river. She wanted to scream or punch someone. The night she walked away from Red Light, she had such hope. She set out to prove to herself she was worth loving, even believed she could live in a speaking world and not be a burden to Bear when she returned to him.
After today, she no longer believed any of the things she hoped for would come true. Everywhere she went, people would realize she had a disability. There would be times when she had to explain her muteness to others and accept they'd treat her differently than a speaking woman.
She picked up another rock and hit it against another bigger rock. If her mom's boyfriend stood in front of her, she'd smash his head in for what he'd done to her. She never deserved the punishment for singing in her room.
Del was a sick man with problems.
She was never the problem.
All her life she blamed herself for not trying to speak when the doctor told her how important going to therapy would be to her long-term care. She'd never once asked her mom to take her to the doctor. She'd held on to her anger and let it push her forward, alienating her from others, and built a hard wall around herself until she no longer cared how people treated her.
Believing she deserved what came her way, she convinced herself the meaningless life she led was what she deserved. The degrading job of spreading her legs and opening her mouth fit her because she wasn't loveable.
She squeezed her eyes closed. Her chest ached. Her scars burned from the tension of the trapped sobs stuck in her throat.
She cared. More than anyone would ever know.
Tired of pretending to be normal and brave, she swiped at the tears coating her cheeks. Alone and rejected, she wanted Bear. She could no longer pretend she could fix herself. She'd always be mute. She'd always have prostitution in her past.
But, she was a good person. She never set out to hurt anyone, and in her attempt to fix herself, she'd hurt the last person in the world who deserved any kind of punishment.
Bear treated her differently than anyone in her life. He never rushed her to talk. All their two-sided conversations came easily, and he'd patiently wait for her to type out what she wanted to say and even argued when he thought she was wrong.
She buried her face in her hands. Despite her occupation, Bear continued to touch her even though he knew other men had done more with her that day and when he left, she'd return to letting men use her body.
Her stomach trembled in one long shiver. She'd left him with no explanation. Either her actions hurt him terribly, or he stepped back and respected her choices. With him gone from her life, but not her thoughts, she let doubts cloud her thinking.
Maybe Bear realized when she wasn't around, he was better off. She wiped her face, sniffed, and pushed herself to her feet. The need to explain everything to him before she lost her chance at happiness sent her walking back in the direction of the inn.
Too many years she'd pretended to be satisfied with her existence. Refusing to acknowledge the hurt, the awful decisions she'd made in an attempt to shelter her vulnerability, she hid from everyone. Bear refused to let her hide and make an excuse. He blew into her life, scrambled her ideas, and threw her into an unfamiliar world. He'd offered her support, steady-never-ending support.
And, she wanted to put everything out in the open and take the chance Bear accepted her, faults, scars, stupidity, and all. She hurried along the river, her wet flip-flops squeaking with each step.
She'd spend all night writing to Bear and leave nothing out. She wasn't going to blow her chance with him or force herself to live with pain because she punished herself for a past that embarrassed her. Whatever happened after Bear learned the truth, she'd never regret her time with him. And, she'd do whatever she needed to do to prove to him she loved him.
Chapter Thirty
Bear sat on his Harley under the viaduct with his eye on the
door of Doctor Brandof's office. Since Madison left Red Light thirteen days ago, he'd watched her go to the doctor's office alone three times. Out with the women of Moroad two times. Grocery shop once. Visit the river three times. He'd followed her to every fucking place unable to talk to her, touch her, or know what she was thinking.
Sometimes she appeared sad. Other times, she'd walked around as if ready to punch anyone who stepped in her path. The times where she strolled around the perimeter of the inn, smiling, exploring the gardens, sitting in the sunshine angered him. She appeared happy without him.
Then he returned to the motel, drank himself to sleep, and dreamed of her. He wanted her happy, so why the hell was he upset?
She'd shut him out.
There was not one part of her life in the last two weeks that included him. No texts. No M with a smiley face waiting for him when he woke up or questions for him before he went to sleep. It was as if she'd left his life and had no plans to come back to him.
He had to get his updates from Tiff on how Madison was doing physically. From all the second-hand information he'd received, Madison was having the time of her life without him.
Miserable and regretting his decision to give her space to figure out what she needed, and to act on them, he walked around ready to kill anyone who talked or looked at him. Every fucking morning, he expected to find a text from her asking him to come to her, and every morning he grew more scared that Madison walked out of his life and never looked back.
Instead of acting on her feelings like he'd hoped, she took her sweet time, probably overthinking the situation, and changed her mind about being his woman. How could she not see what they had together?
He'd told her everything she needed to know. He loved her. She only needed to come back to him.
Madison walked out of Doctor Brandof's office with a yellow envelope tucked underneath her arm and her purse swinging at her side. Bear grunted, unable to tell if she was in a good mood or upset. She kept her head down, rifling through her purse, and he wanted to walk up to her and tell her to pay attention to her surroundings.
He wanted to protect her.
For someone who understood the evils of the world and the risks of a lone female walking by herself, he'd observed her every time she stepped outside of the inn. At night, after Madison stayed inside, he'd had one of his MC brothers staked out in case she got some fucked up reason to grab ice cream during the middle of the night, so he could rest and be ready for her early morning walks.
He couldn't keep going on, tailing her, keeping his distance, not knowing if distance made her forget about him. He licked his lips, swearing he could still taste her kiss. He tossed and turned each night and quit going to Silver Girls during the last two weeks, because going reminded him of who he was missing, who he couldn't touch, who he couldn't whistle for and make smile.
He couldn't go on anymore. Not being with her killed him.
Madison turned the corner at the end of the block. He started his Harley and headed toward Main Street where he zigzagged down backstreets keeping an eye on Madison from a distance. The longer he protected her, watched her, and spent his hours helpless to contact her, the worse the situation became. He needed to know where he stood or if she let her doubts decide for her.
Once she reached the straightaway and had the Federal Inn in her sight, he turned and sped down the backroad, and parked on the other side of the inn out of view. From previously checking up on her, he knew she stayed on the second floor in room number twenty-two.
He took the back entrance, searching the area for anyone ready to kick him out. He kept his chin down and let his hair cover his profile, ignoring all the cameras at the end of the hallway.
He slipped into the recessed area two doors down from Madison's room and waited for her. Impossible to stand still, he fidgeted like a junkie. The last two weeks of seeing her and not being with her took its toll on him.
He had to slow down, or he'd freak her out. If it were up to him, he'd haul her back to the Moroad Motel, and they'd finally start building a life together, whether she wanted to or not.
At his age, he'd wasted years going after the wrong kind of women and thinking he needed sex more than his next breath. Madison proved him wrong. She gave him companionship and slowed him down to appreciate the important things in life.
He wanted Madison's conversations, her wonder, her secrets.
He wanted to wake up every morning looking forward to finding out what would make her toss back her head and laugh silently or frown in concentration as she decided her words to write. He wanted the weight of her sitting on his lap, the way she patted his chest to get his attention, and the way she slipped her small hand in his rough one and yet felt like the strong one out of both of them.
He peeked out into the hallway and found Madison opening her door. A delivery man walked out of the stairwell and headed in her direction. He pulled back enough to stay hidden and still keep an eye on Madison's safety.
"Excuse me. Are you Madison?" asked the deliveryman stopping behind Madison.
Madison turned and nodded.
The deliveryman thrust a vase full of flowers into her arms. "These are for you."
Bear couldn't see her face, only that she shifted the vase to her side and grabbed for her purse.
"The tip has been covered. Enjoy your day." The deliveryman rushed away answering his cell phone.
Madison stood rooted inside the doorway. Bear stepped out and hesitated as Madison lowered her face into the flowers, sniffing the blooms. A full-faced smile lit her face.
The same smile he'd observed the first time he laid eyes on her.
The same smile he'd worked so hard to get aimed at him.
The same smile he'd believed was only for him.
The door closed. He stood alone in the hallway, paralyzed with loss. Had she found someone else while he'd stayed away?
He'd let her have the time to grow toward him, not away. He grabbed his head and leaned back against the wall, letting the surface support his weight. Not once had he left her alone. He followed her everywhere and stood back as she fell apart, celebrated, and took days by herself. He never left her.
Madison only knew the people who visited Red Light. She wasn't from around here. Had she picked up with a customer after she left her job?
The arrival of the flowers from someone else gutted him. He sucked in a breath. She'd hollowed him out. There was nothing left inside of, but emptiness without her.
Bear walked down the hallway, past Madison's closed door, and to the stairs. He'd given her time to discover who she was and to realize she was perfect for him. Maybe she'd discovered he wasn't perfect for her, and she wanted someone better.
He got on his motorcycle and rode away. The wind in his ears muffled his thoughts and he kept riding. He couldn't go back to the motel or Silver Girls or ride through town because everywhere he went reminded him of Madison.
Chapter Thirty One
It took Madison two days to figure out how to locate the Moroad Motel on her own. Luckily, she'd walked out of the inn this morning as the sun came up and spotted three bikers wearing jean vests like the one Bear wore ride past the park where she'd had her lunch and followed the noise as far as the loud rumble took her. She hadn't had to go far, maybe a quarter of a mile or so out of town, and she'd found a single-story motel without any signs, but lots of motorcycles parked in the lot out front.
Positive she'd found the right place and kicking herself for not asking Bear more details of his life when she'd had the chance, she stood in the parking lot determined to find Bear. Frustration plagued her at every step. None of the rooms had an 'Office' sign where they handled check-ins. Even if Bear had mentioned a room number, the doors were plain without any identifying numbers or letters.
A man wearing a vest walked out of the row of rooms to her right and headed toward his motorcycle. She hurried over with her notepad and pen in her hand, writing as she kept an eye on him. For all she k
new, he could be her only chance at finding Bear.
The man with long hair and lots of tattoos stopped and gave her a full-body ogle, then raised his brows. "Damn, honey. You're too far out of town. There're no rooms for rent here if you're looking for somewhere to stay."
She shook her head and handed him the note.
He handed it back. "I don't read."
Shit. She looked over at the motel. He couldn't read. She couldn’t talk. How was she supposed to find Bear?
"Did your car break down?" asked the biker.
She shook her head and backed away, knowing there was no way to communicate with him. There was nothing she could do but wait outside and hope Bear made an appearance.
"Hey," shouted a male voice.
She stopped and turned around, but the man was talking to another biker at the end of the parking lot. Hoping to find someone who could guide her in the right direction, she headed over to intercept the man before he rode off.
Waving her arm, she jogged, holding out the piece of paper. The guy cocked his head, and she came to a stop within reach of him, thrusting the question of where to find Bear at him.
He read the message, frowned, and rubbed his hand over his shaved head. "Who are you?"
She pointed at the paper. The only thing she needed to know was the answer to her inquiry.
"Sorry, sweetheart. That's not how I do things. First, you tell me who you are, and then if I like the name, I might answer your question." The guy grinned and crossed his arms.
She scowled, pulling her notepad out of her pocket and writing her name down before handing the info over. Ignoring the obvious rough look of the biker with his ripped jeans, grease-covered shirt, and tattoos down his arms, she concluded he was also rude.
"Madison...?" He shrugged. "I don't know you."
She rolled her eyes and stabbed her finger in the direction of the other piece of paper with her original question on it in his hand. Apparently, he was also stupid.