Caroline would tell me she believed couples didn’t have equal power in a relationship. What balanced it was the seesaw. Sometimes, one partner had more power than the other, but it depended on the situation.
“You’re an attorney, Kenny,” she’d chastise. “When you marry, if you don’t marry a lawyer, your husband may defer to you in legal matters. In that situation, you have the power.”
I’d scoff at her words, because I never stopped to understand her. I never appreciated her wisdom.
Although I still take issue with having my wedding planned by MEGGIE, I understand Johnnie’s intentions were good and came from a place of concern and not the deference to her that I’d pinned on him. In many ways, I had all the power. The only times he ever removed it was when he sent me on the healing retreat and….with the wedding.
He would’ve given me anything I wanted, but he wasn’t a mind-reader. To prevent misunderstandings, I should’ve spoken up, instead of expecting him to know what I wanted. Even without vocalizing my deepest desires, he knew. He understood me. He’d taken the time to listen to me.
He knew I wanted to marry him. He knew I wanted to live away from the club. He knew I wanted a bigger vehicle because I believed it would be safer for the baby. He knew I’d want a honeymoon. And he knew I wasn’t yet healed.
I leave here in five weeks. Once I’m out I’ll give myself a few weeks to adjust to working and, hopefully, normalcy again.
But, then, I’m going to Johnnie and make him love me again.
Chapter 7: Three Months
A few hours later, Johnnie returned to the clubhouse. Unlike the bustling activity of yesterday, a dull quietness blanketed the place. Stretch sat at the bar, keeping watch on the monitors, barely sparing Johnnie a glance.
For all of Big Joe’s and Christopher’s hard work at making the club what it became, everything they’d sacrificed seemed to be going down the shitter. The open parties they’d once indulged in weekly had been stopped months ago. Even then, they hadn’t had the same flair. At least, members had new women to fuck and new contacts to obtain.
The members-only rule hurt their reputation and their bottom line.
If Sharper wasn’t dealt with soon, the Death Dwellers would disintegrate. Other clubs would provide the brothers with what the Dwellers now lacked.
Brotherhood. Women. Freedom.
Megan, Zoann, and Bailey—the babies they’d delivered—had stolen the freedom of the club’s president, road captain, and enforcer. The fucking betrayal slowly eroded whatever remained from the divide the girls had created.
Everyone knew how Digger had fucked over the club. Everyone.
The MC had been unraveling from the inside out for fucking years. Instead of focusing on punishing the former sergeant-at-arms, Christopher’s undivided devotion stayed on Megan.
It made them weak and vulnerable.
Johnnie tightened his grip on the bags he held, just then remembering them.
His attention had scattered, too. It had been on Kendall. Even in her absence, she’d been with him. So, he couldn’t point the finger at Christopher, when he too, shared responsibility.
Like now for instance.
Without asking, Johnnie recognized that Stretch had a problem. Instead of redirecting his steps and sharing a drink with the club treasurer, he had an overwhelming desire to see Kendall. One that he wouldn’t ignore, not even in the name of brotherhood.
Nodding to Stretch, Johnnie continued on.
Four shopping bags in hand, he opened his door, and found Kendall in bed, pillows propped behind her, asleep. A magazine on home décor lay propped on her belly. The robe she wore—his robe—lay open and exposed the fact she still had on his dress shirt, the one she’d changed into the night before.
Not wanting to disturb her, he crept forward and laid the bags at the edge of the bed, allowing them to rest on the footboard. He attempted to ignore how sweet and serene she looked as she slept, her worries and stresses erased from her lovely face.
He told himself to leave. He’d only agreed to her staying with him until after the baby’s birth, so he couldn’t get used to her presence. But, in the light of day and with the envy of Mortician’s wedding over, Johnnie couldn’t escape how deeply he’d missed her.
Swallowing, he picked up the magazine and glanced at the pages she’d been reading before she’d fallen asleep. The two-page spread showcased a beautiful nursery, decorated in blue, yellow, and green.
“Hi.”
Her husky voice brought him out of his revelry and he blinked. He cleared his throat. “Hey.”
She sat straighter and winced, before stretching.
“Is this how you want the nursery?” he asked gruffly, not knowing what to say. He flipped the magazine around to show her, unsure if she’d just happened to have fallen asleep at this spot.
Seeing the baby furniture brought home how much he’d missed over the months. It also made him realize how soon he’d meet his son or daughter.
She nodded. “Do you like it?”
He almost lashed out at her again, but she looked so vulnerable and sounded so hopeful. He sat next to her, pushing his back up against the headboard. Sudden tension radiated from her. Not that he blamed her. He didn’t feel relaxed or comfortable, either. “Yes. You have very good tastes. Do you have a place with a room for the baby?”
“No,” she said in a small voice. “I wish I did.”
Leave it to Kendall to drop hints. Shaking his head, he allowed soft laughter to rumble from him.
She frowned at him. “What?”
“You’re still you, sweetheart,” he said quietly.
“O-okay.” Silence, and then: “Is that a compliment?”
“Yes.” Why hedge when Kendall needed reassurances that left no room for doubt? “You’re one-of-a-kind, and that is most definitely a good thing.”
“Can we—”
“I bought you clothes,” he interrupted, before she questioned him.
Could they try again? Could they start over? Could they talk?
Whichever question was on her mind, he couldn’t go there right now. He didn’t want to be angry with her. Nor did he want to argue with her. He just needed peace between them, always so elusive. From the moment they’d met, they’d been in turmoil with each other and outside influences.
Hurt flickered into her eyes, but instead of pushing the subject, she scooted down and grabbed two of the bags, dumping the contents onto her lap. She held up a black and white tie-dye maxi dress. Flushing and sidling him a glance, she checked the tags with the price and the size.
“Will it fit?”
She stiffened and sniffed. “Yes,” she said curtly.
In silence, she checked out the bra, panties, blouse, and slacks. Once she finished, Johnnie handed her the other two bags. He watched the various emotions on her face as she searched out the sizes of each piece of clothing and one pair of ballerina flats.
“I gave Roxy my choices for outfits I’d found online. She was nice enough to offer to go shopping for me,” she added in slightly defensive tones.
He rubbed his eyes. “Let me guess. I have to reimburse the cost of the shopping?”
“Um…well, I…we…I can tell her to take everything back.”
“What is everything?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t returned yet.”
“Keep everything, if you’d like.”
“Johnnie, we need to talk,” she said quickly. “Instead of just dancing around each other and…”
“No.”
“Okay,” she mumbled. “Okay. Don’t talk then, but listen to what I have to say. Please?”
Clenching his jaw, he glared at her. Fuck her, but why couldn’t she let it go? Worse, why couldn’t he ignore the request entirely?
He gave her one, brusque nod.
“Someone once told me that there are some people we meet and we aren’t meant to have a long dialogue with them,” she began.
“They are walk-
ons in our lives. We’ll have five hundred, one hundred, fifty words exchanged, and that’ll be the end of our association.”
Johnnie remembered these words. They were his, spoken in frustration when she’d refused to open up to him while he’d held her at his house. He hadn’t believed he’d gotten through to her. Apparently, he’d been wrong.
“Others, we spend years with and run out of words.” She licked her lips and waited for him to say something.
But Johnnie still refused to talk to her, right now. His frame-of-mind between yesterday and today had done a complete about face.
Kendall just had that effect on him.
“That isn’t the case with us,” she continued softly. “We have so much more to say to one another, an eternity of dialogue. You’re hurt and you’re angry, and I don’t blame you. Please, forgive me. G-give us another chance. D-don’t sleep with any other women. Let’s rediscover each other. We’ve both made mistakes, Johnnie,” she whispered. “We can get through this if we openly and honestly discuss everything.”
Her words rolled through his head, and he recognized all the…fear. Fear and vulnerability, emotions he’d never been in touch with, until he’d fallen in love. He hated both. It left him open to heartache, made him feel too human.
What could be loved, could also be lost, a fact he’d become well-acquainted with over the past two years. But he did love Kendall. His second love, but never second best.
He grimaced. “Fine,” he conceded tightly.
She started. Quickly recovering, relief softened her, and she laughed. “Really?”
“Yes. Now, tell me what it is you want from me that I didn’t give to you?”
“Consideration,” she answered quickly. “You gave me a surprise wedding. Who does that?”
“Me,” he said without apology. “And I’d do it again, if it meant not seeing you stressing yourself out while you’re pregnant.”
Impatience flared into her eyes. “That’s because you’re a chauvinist. Poor Kendall. She’s too emotional to handle planning her own wedding.”
“Call it what you want,” he grumbled.
She sighed. “You could’ve told me. Meggie could’ve told me. Instead of sidelining stress, your attitude contributed to it.”
“Telling you would’ve defeated the purpose. As for Megan, she had no choice. I gave her no choice. Her loyalty was to you, not me. She chewed my ass out for my treatment of you.”
“Wh-what?”
“Ask her.” He shrugged. “Or don’t because, at this point, it doesn’t matter.”
“Every time I feel one way or the other about her, you always bring something new to light. Why? If not for you and Christopher, we might be real friends by now.”
“Do you want to be friends with her? If so, it wouldn’t matter what me or Outlaw said. You’d see her for who she really is.”
“I don’t think I can ever be friends with her. Not anymore. Not after what I know happened between you two.”
This fight was a dead horse, so he’d stop trying to push it. “As long as you two get along at social events, I no longer give a fuck. Megan is happy in her little world with her son, her pregnancy, and her husband. She doesn’t give a fuck who may or may not like her, as long as she has her family.”
“I think she has much more to offer than being Christopher’s cum receptacle, nanny to his children, and housekeeper at his mansion.”
“It isn’t his mansion. The title is in her name. His name is nowhere on it, anymore.”
“No way! She didn’t put one dime…”
“The club owns the property, Kendall,” he interrupted with impatience. “Megan owns the house. She’s his wife. She didn’t ask to have it that way. He just did it for her. I overheard Zoann and Megan discussing a home health care service or something. So put your mind at ease,” he added dryly. “Megan’s coming into her own, as a woman, and as Christopher’s wife. And he’s in the process of purchasing the land from the club, so she’ll have a free and clear title.”
“What about the house you were building for me?”
“What about it?”
“How big would it have been? Would it have been ours? Mine? Yours?”
“It would be ours. And I don’t know how big it would’ve been. I never thought about it one way or the other.” He glanced at her. “The one thing I won’t do is compete with their house.”
“You mean her house.”
He threw her an exasperated look.
“What about Zoann’s and Val’s house?”
“Designed like a log cabin,” he explained, and added before she questioned him, “Bailey’s and Mort’s is a two-story brick house.” He stared at the ceiling, thinking of tomorrow when they’d put the meat shack to work again, where he’d work side-by-side with Christopher.
He swallowed, Val’s words about Johnnie’s and Christopher’s differences replaying in his head. “Am I loyal, Kendall?” he asked quietly. “Completely loyal.”
“Oh my God, Johnnie,” she cried, nuzzling her nose in the crook of his neck, like a puppy. “Yes, and I just couldn’t recognize it. I-”
He placed a finger over her lips to silence her. “Shhhh. Months ago, I pulled my gun on Christopher and fired it.”
A gleam in her eyes, Kendall smiled. “Really?”
“Fuck!” he said in exasperation. “This shouldn’t be cause for amusement.”
“He pulled his gun on you while I was hospitalized.”
“But he didn’t fucking fire.”
“The asshole should know better than to pull a weapon. He’s asking for trouble. You have to defend yourself. Throwing a tantrum by shoving a gun against your head and not expecting retaliation is stupid on his part.”
“You don’t understand. If Christopher draws his nine, motherfuckers die.”
She lifted herself on her elbow and leaned over to kiss his lips. “Don’t. Okay? Don’t second-guess yourself. He should know better. You had every right to blow him away.”
Johnnie grinned at her. “Bloodthirsty wench.”
A small smile touched her lips. “No. Logical!”
“He’s having a dinner for Meggie tomorrow night and he invited us. Do you want to go?”
“You mean I have a choice?”
Johnnie glared at her and she laughed.
“Will you let go of the Meggie and Outlaw bullshit?”
“Yes,” she whispered, sobering up. “I’ll try. I promise. I won’t ever agree with Meggie’s choices or her marriage philosophy. That will always stand between us, but she stands firm in her choices. For now, her life with Christopher works with her and she’s happy.”
“And what is your truth?” he asked, sliding his finger along her jawline. He no longer cared about who accepted who. As Christopher had told Mort and Bailey, no one had the right to interfere in their relationship. The same went for Johnnie and Kendall. He still needed to know the answer to an important question. Last night, they’d been equally emotional. Today, she looked rested and more in control of herself.
“Do you still want to fuck Christopher?”
Regret clear in her eyes, she shook her head. “No, I never did. I was jealous, angry, hurt and I wanted revenge on you and Meggie. I’m sorr-”
“No, gorgeous,” he said softly, surprised at the sudden tears filling her eyes. “You’ve apologized enough. It’s time I did some apologizing of my own.” He paused and swiped at her tears. “Why are you crying?”
“You called me gorgeous,” she said on a sob. “I never thought you’d call me that again.”
“It’s very easy to make you happy, isn’t it?” he teased, wishing his words were true.
Laying her head on his shoulder, she nodded and clutched his chest. “You’re giving us another chance and that’s all I ever wanted, but let’s not be intimate until we know for sure if we’ll be together.”
What? “Kendall-”
“Let’s…lately, I’ve lived in three-month increments. Three months in the
treatment facility. Three months out of it before I felt ready to come to you. There’s six weeks before the baby is born and it’ll take six weeks for me to heal. Three months total. From the moment we met, we’ve had sex. We both need a more solid foundation.”
Johnnie should’ve known he wouldn’t get off so easy. He’d have some groveling to do. She was right, though. They’d fucked, and he hadn’t known her name. There’d hardly been time for what a woman like Kendall needed—romance.
Tomorrow, while they fucked up the deputy, Johnnie intended to get pointers from Val and Christopher on just what type of romance a woman enjoyed.
Dear Diary,
I want to leave, disappear, and forget Brooks, Charlotte, Johnnie, Mortician, Christopher, and Meggie. Most of all, I want to forget Dr. Stanton.
I despise the arrogant, unfeeling asshole. He’s like a robot. An unsympathetic know-it-all, who, in actuality, doesn’t know shit. He has diagnosed me as having….wait for it!
Post-traumatic stress, caused by years of mental abuse and more recently, sexual assault, coupled with episodes of manic depression and sociopathic behaviors.
Me? I’ll admit to being depressed. But the rest of it? No way! He can go and fuck himself. He vacillates in my supposed “obsession”. One moment, I’m focused on the asshole, Christopher, and the next I’m focused on his wife, Meggie.
Or as he put it, “Your fixation is divided. Sometimes, you’re preoccupied with the man you’re unwillingly attracted to, Mr. Caldwell, and the next you’re focused on his other half, Mrs. Caldwell.”
The words just confirm to me that Dr. Stanton is a pathetic ass wipe, who makes wild guesses to get away with his astronomical fees. I have no idea why Charlotte refuses to listen to me when I begin to list the reasons why I want to check myself out of this place.
Each time I make up my mind to do so, she gives me ten reasons not to. I’m beginning to suspect he’s giving her a kickback to keep me here. It seems odd to me, that every time I attempt to steer the conversation to Johnnie, Dr. Stanton twists it back to Christopher.
“Kendall, you stated several times, your sister and mother would still be alive if you’d slept with Mr. Caldwell.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 216