Resistance

by K Larsen

  “Thank you,” I whisper into her ear. She smirks at me before I kiss the spot just behind her ear. Her body tenses just slightly. It makes me wonder what I just did. She stands, declaring that she needs another bourbon, and moves to the outdoor bar Dominic has set up. I lean my head back in the Adirondack chair and soak up the easy moment of camaraderie surrounding me.

  That awful country song comes on. The one Clara knows I hate. I make a face at her when I realize it’s playing. She laughs.

  “Suck it up. It’s one song,” she says and chuckles. A glass breaks on the deck. All eyes dart to Pepper’s direction. She’s frozen in place. Pale as a ghost. Her knees buckle, but before I have a chance to get to my feet, Clara is next to Pepper, catching her as she collapses. Tears are falling freely down her face. Her lips are moving. Counting. One. Two. Three. My gut hurts. The expression on her face shows shock and hurt as she clings to Clara through her violent shaking.

  “Shh,” Clara whispers to her. “It’s okay.” She holds up a hand to me and Dom, silently asking us to keep back. I don’t want to keep back. I want to scoop Pepper into my arms and take away whatever pain is haunting her.

  “The song,” Pepper gurgles. Dom moves instantly to the iPod and changes it.

  “Come with me,” Clara urges, helping Pepper to stand. They move past me silently and swiftly. Dom appears by my side and slaps a hand on my shoulder.

  “She’ll be okay. Come on, let’s clean this up.” I hear him but the words don't compute. I don't understand. I walk to the iPod and look at the playlist. “Hey Pretty Girl.” That’s the song. What happened?

  Thirty minutes later Clara emerges from the bathroom. I rush to her, desperate to understand why it looked like Pepper had a mental breakdown.

  “Well?” I ask, feeling detached.

  “Jesus, Sawyer. It’s bad. She’s calm now. I gave her a Klonopin to calm her down.” She pauses and stares out the window for a moment. “She talked. I get it. I get her. You need to get her. Get her help, Sawyer. A trauma counselor. I gave her my therapist’s card. Make sure she calls.”

  What? A trauma counselor?

  “Please explain what’s happening,” I say quietly. Clara pulls me aside, further from the bathroom.

  “The song triggered a memory. Caused a panic attack. Do you remember my nightmares?” she asks.

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, same idea. Just awake instead of dreaming. You said she had secrets. I didn’t realize they were similar to things I’ve been through, but worse.” She shakes her head at me. “She’s young, Sawyer, convince her to call the therapist. I’ll help you however I can with that.”

  “Okay,” I mumble.

  “Take her home. She’s tired and embarrassed. She needs to just be with you. She trusts you,” Clara says with a sad, knowing smile. I always protected Clara from her demons too.

  Chapter 29

  Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers while staring out the truck window as we drive to her house.

  “Pepper, for the last time, it’s okay.”

  “No it’s not,” she answers quietly. Instead of arguing, I reach across the cabin of the truck and take her hand in mine. She clings to it tightly, as if she’s afraid of letting go.

  “Did Clara mention her counselor to you?” I ask as we pull onto her street. Small houses move past us in blurry detail. I don’t know exactly how to help her. It’s frustrating. Pulling into her driveway, keys still in the ignition, her mobile rings. She lifts it from her purse to check who’s calling.

  “Greta. I’ll be quick,” she says. She climbs out of the truck and heads towards the kitchen door. I follow a few feet behind to give her some privacy. Once inside, she goes straight to her bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her, and I plop onto the couch wishing I could do something, anything. I drag my hands through my hair, roughly massaging my scalp to try and ease the tension. I want to know why that song set her off. I want to know what she told Clara. I want to know what the hell it’s going to take to help her. To stop the nightmares. To make her feel safe. To give her a place she feels comfortable calling home. She’s permanently adrift. She doesn’t identify with a place to call home. A place that brings comfort just by being there.

  “Sawyer?” her voices carries down the hall from her room.

  “Yeah?”

  “I know it’s not that late, but I want to go to bed.” She sounds small and distant. Worn down. I squeeze my eyes shut before answering her.

  “Coming.”

  I push off the couch and make my way down the hall to join her in bed. She smells like fresh minty toothpaste. I’m too tired to even consider brushing my teeth so I strip down to my boxers and climb in. She nestles into me and sighs.

  “About the counseling thing...” I start.

  “I’ll call tomorrow,” she cuts in.

  “Really? Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” she answers. Silence engulfs us. The faint light of the streetlamp across the street barely lights anything up. Her black hair is everywhere and her warm body is pressed close to mine. With her breathing steady and even, I let myself drift to sleep.

  She wakes gasping for air. A strange strangled garble leaves her mouth. I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her tightly. “Shhh. You’re safe.” I breathe into her ear. Her body shudders one last time before relaxing into my hold. “I’m right here with you.” She relaxes even more, nuzzles her face into my neck, and breathes deeply until she falls back asleep. I send a silent prayer to God, asking him to help her through all this.

  * * * * *

  The morning light hits the windows and I’m awake. Awake, staring at the most beautiful creature. Her window’s cracked and the chill from the early fall overnight air has crept in, leaving Pepper and I cocooned under the blankets together.

  I crawl out of bed as quietly as possible. I don’t want to wake her. She needs the sleep and I have to swing by the club today before opening Bloodlines. I scribble a quick note letting her know where I’ll be, start the coffee pot for her, and head to the club for a shower.

  * * * * *

  Beau greets me at the bathroom door as I’m coming out. He eyes me warily.

  “Kicked out?” he asks and raises an eyebrow.

  “No, just didn't wanna wake her.” I chuckle. He eyes me for a moment, debating whether or not I’m telling the truth, before he nods and palms my shoulder, leading me to the round table for our meeting.

  Members sit, coffees in front of them, looking half asleep. It’s unusual to have a morning meeting.

  “We have a couple issues we gotta deal with now,” Beau starts. “First off, have any of you seen Carmine? He’s been off grid for days and it’s not the first time. This, as I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, looks bad on the club. It shows a lack of respect and my gut tells me to cut him loose as a prospect.” Heads nod in agreement. “We’ve had two girls complain that he roughed them up a bit as well. I don’t take these particular girls’ stories too seriously as they have reputations, but I’m not gonna let that fly no matter what. We deal with our own, and that shit has got to stop flying around. Doesn’t set a good feeling in the community when people get wind of that talk.”

  “I saw him a couple nights ago, I think. He was leaving Adventure World, round the same time they had the shooting,” I chime in. I didn’t really think about it then, but now that I remember, it seems odd he was there. He has no kids and doesn’t generally get invited to anything kid-related.

  “Hoot saw him earlier that day too, but no one has since then,” Hurley says from the opposite end of the table.

  “Eyes open. You see him, you bring him in. I got questions,” Beau grumbles from the head of the table. We vote on whether or not to let Carmine continue to prospect. The vote is unanimous, he’s out. Beau goes over a few minor club points and we’re all released to go about our days.

  Pepper’s bike is in my driveway when I get home. A grin tak
es over my face at the sight of it parked. I like that she feels comfortable enough to show up here without permission from me. I want her to feel like what’s mine is hers. I practically prance up the driveway and into the house.

  “Pep? You here?” I call out.

  “Out back!” she answers. I move through the kitchen towards the patio doors when Pepper comes flying at me full tilt. She lands in my arms heavily and I stumble backwards a bit, taking her with me.

  “Hi,” I whisper into her hair.

  “Hi,” she returns.

  “How was your day?” I ask, moving her hair over her shoulder and kissing her neck. She groans and backs out of my arms.

  “It was…productive. And before you start wooing me with your lips, let me tell you about it.”

  I feign hurt feelings and let her lead me to the patio chairs. A beer waits for me on the side table and a bourbon for her.

  “So, I called that therapist today,” she starts. “And she had me come right in. I spent an hour there. I really like her, Sawyer. She had a lot of insightful stuff to say.”

  “That’s great.” I can’t even pretend to hide the elation I’m feeling. This feels like exactly what Pepper needs.

  “Yeah.” She breathes. “The best part is that she wants me to come in for a more formal session with her later this week. I guess this appointment was really only the intake stuff.” Pepper’s excited and nervous rambles are adorable. “I’m kinda nervous though, you know? Like what if I’m really freaking broken?”

  “Pepper, counseling is the best thing for really freaking broken. Don’t overthink this. It’s definitely the right step forward,” I encourage.

  “Yeah. Yeah you’re right,” she agrees before taking a big sip of her bourbon. I reach out, grab her free hand, and squeeze it gently. She squeezes back as we take in the sunset together in silence.

  Chapter 30

  The Path of Life

  The last three days have been torture. I think Pepper has been scared shitless of her appointment today with the therapist. She’s been cleaning and rambling and occasionally whisper counting. I tried to quell her fears but she bottled everything up inside and didn’t want to talk about how nervous she was. Her appointment ended about an hour ago and I’m anxious to hear from her. I don’t want to text or call in case it was an intense session and she needs alone time to process. It is killing me waiting for her to call, though.

  She finally comes to the shop an hour or so before I usually close up, looking red-eyed and splotchy. I rush to her and kiss her cheeks before pulling her into a bear hug.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I’m going to a retreat for trauma therapy,” she starts. Thank God. I am so happy she’s going through with this whole therapy deal. “It’s supposed to be an intense treatment option or something,” she says, sounding far away. “That appointment with the therapist was really hard. It led to this month-long retreat idea. She said it would be especially beneficial to me. I feel like an overstimulated clitoris right now,” she sniffles. I can’t help but chuckle at her. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but this sounds like a rational decision to make for myself.”

  “Admitting that you have no idea what you're doing is the best thing you can do for yourself. Maybe even the hardest thing to do,” I tell her sincerely. “A month huh? Like you just show up for a couple hours every day? How does it work?”

  “No, Sawyer, like rehab. Like, I go away, to their facility. It’s four hours north of here. They take my cell phone. There are no laptops or tablets allowed. A month where I’m just their...their victim. That’s how it feels. Like I just volunteered myself for some mad experiment.” Her arms tighten around my middle. A month? No contact at all?

  “So, can people call you there or visit? Like during regulated hours or something?” I ask, trying to find the right words to say, to have the most supportive reaction. I don’t want a month apart. I don’t want to lose her. My gut seizes in anticipation.

  “No calls, but people can visit during the hours they specify on certain days,” she says. I let out an audible sigh of relief.

  “I’ll be there every time then.” I smile and kiss the top of her head. Her arms loosen their grip on my torso.

  “I don’t want you to visit me, Sawyer,” she says, hushed but determined.

  “What?” I pull back to glance down at her face. Maybe she’s kidding. Not funny, but surely she’s not serious. Her brown eyes glisten barely, but they’re serious.

  “I don’t want you to visit me there. I don’t know how I’ll do or be. I don’t want to use you as a crutch. I need to do this for me without distraction. I tried to think of a million nice ways to say this on my drive over here but...there aren’t any, really. I want you, but this is something I need to dedicate to myself. I want to do it alone. I understand, I guess, if you don’t agree and end this, but that’s not what I want,” she finishes. I’m shocked. Disappointment courses through me. I feel like I’ve been sucker punched. “Sawyer?” she calls out.

  “I’m going to have to think about things, I guess. I’m pretty shocked to be honest…not about going to the retreat, but about you wanting to have no contact for a month. I thought you’d want my support, Pepper. It kinda feels like a slap in the face.” She cringes at my words and tears flood her eyes.

  “It’s not like that. I do want you. I just have a lifetime of mess to work out from before I ever knew you. I need to do it on my own.” She is pleading with her eyes. I understand what she’s saying. It sounds smart. My heart doesn't agree with my brain, though. My heart feels like it’s been tossed aside and left in the road like a dead animal.

  “When do you leave?” I mutter, confused by my own conflicting responses.

  “Tomorrow. They have a spot open for the session starting Friday.” Her voice is so quiet, like she doesn’t want to admit that she’s planned all this already. But she has. She solidified all this before she came to see me. This wasn’t a discussion between us. I had no say.

  “Tomorrow?” I blurt out, flustered. There’s not even time to prepare for her departure. She’s just going to up and be gone tomorrow.

  “Can I ask you to stay with me tonight?” she asks hesitantly. “Please, Sawyer.” The need in her voice makes all my own hurt go to that forgotten place where I can’t feel it. It disappears.

  All I see are her caramel brown eyes pleading with me to spend the night with her.

  All I hear is her voice, fragile and soft.

  When she sucks her plump bottom lip between her teeth and bites it I lose whatever battle I was having with myself.

  “Of course.”

  Her eyes crinkle at the corners. She pushes up on to her tiptoes and winds her hands around my neck. I lean down and brush my lips against hers.

  Warm, soft, lush. I’m not sure I have a month of no contact in me at this point. I scoop her up into my arms and carry her to the back room. I’m going to make damned sure that the next month is unbearable for her without me.

  Lying her down on one of the tattoo tables, I kiss her neck, collarbone, and the décolletage that shows from her V-neck shirt. Her hands drift to my waist, lifting my shirt, toying with the skin at my pant line, up my abdominals. I push her shirt up and taste the skin at her ribs and stomach, slowly trailing my way to her breasts. Her legs splay, begging for me to take up the space between them. I root a knee on the table between them and hover over her. Her shirt rests above her breasts. They heave with every breath she takes. Using my teeth, I pull the demi-cup down, letting her breast spill out. She groans as I drag the material down. Her hips surge up to mine as I take her nipple in my mouth and play with it. Her nails drag down my back. I repeat the process on the other breast. Pepper’s entire body is shaking and she wiggles under me, trying to find relief. I grin and drop my hips just a little, letting her rub herself on me. Her expression is dazed and her body is moving on its own accord. I lick her nipple, then bite down gently before suckling. Her hips push up against me a
gain. Oh, the wicked things I’m going to do to her. She will never be able to forget what I have planned.

  “SHIT!” Clara yells, surprised. I jump off the table, leaving Pepper exposed from the waist up before realizing it. She mewls in embarrassment. Clara’s face is a mixture of chagrin and pure delight. I move to stand in front of Pepper as she sits up while trying to get her breasts back into their cups.

  “I, uh. Well, crap. Hi, guys,” Clara finally blurts out, laughing. Pepper’s face is a shade of hot pink that I’ve never witnessed before. I let out a deep chuckle at the complete absurdity of the situation. Pepper peeks out from behind me at Clara.

  “Hi, Clara,” she laughs.

  “When you asked me to meet you here I didn’t think it was to put on a show.” Clara grins. Pepper shakes her head, smirking, and scoots off the table.

  “I thought maybe we could grab a drink and talk actually. I can’t be out late,” Pepper says, looking up at me with wild desire. “But, uh, I had some things I wanted to chat with you about,” she finishes.

  “Sure! I’d love that. There’s a great place across the street actually. Allie’s home with Dom so I have an hour or so,” Clara responds.

  “Sawyer? Do you mind?” Pepper asks.

  “No. No, go ahead. Your place or mine?” I ask. What’s going on? Pepper out with Clara? I feel like this could either be a death sentence or a wish come true.

  “Mine, I need to pack still.” Pack. Right. Because after tomorrow she will be gone for thirty days. Thirty days where I can’t see her. I sigh and nod at her while Clara eyes me warily.