by Ryan Michele
Angel engulfs her in another hug and whispers something in her ear. Shaina’s body sags, and curiosity hits, making me want to know what she said.
I turn to Derek as he says, “That’s what she says. Need to confirm it.”
Pops steps up with his arm around Ma. He looks down at his wife then up. “Yeah, she’s good,” he states, confirming that Shaina is in fact supposed to be here at the club.
Derek nods then strolls out of the room while all eyes continue to watch.
“Breaker?” I hear and turn to Bella.
“What?”
“I’ve said your name, like, three times. Where did you go?”
I blink and clear the fog, clear the memories that want to bombard me, which I won’t allow. “Nowhere. I’m here.”
Bella’s focus drifts to Shaina then back to me. “Who is she?”
“Shaina, Diamond’s daughter.”
Her eyes squint then open wide. “Oh, Angel told me about her.” Bella leans in close. “Is she okay?”
“I have no clue.” But my gut tells me no way in hell.
“Something tells me you’re gonna find out, though.” Bella isn’t wrong.
I watch the little pixie dash off from the room and start down the hallway, like being in the room with this many people is too much for her to handle, which means she isn’t any better than before. Damn, that’s such a change from the spitfire she once was. Those fuckers screwed her royally, and time hasn’t seemed to heal old wounds.
Something ticks inside of me, telling me I need to go, like a magnetic pull. And, like always, I listen to it and move.
The clubhouse noise level goes back to normal. Hopefully, everyone has gotten over the shock of seeing Shaina. At least, those who saw her. GT won’t be happy when he finds out.
Shaina darts into the bathroom, and I wait against the wall outside of it. I have so many questions for her, and as the seconds tick away, I try to keep myself in check and not let the anger of some of them take over.
After fifteen minutes, I’m impatient. Not a single woman has come by to use the bathroom so I can ask if Shaina is okay. Fuck it.
I open the door and see nothing. I look under the stalls, nothing. Where the fuck did she go?
One by one, I push the stall doors open, checking them. No way she got past me. It’s just not possible.
I push on the last door, and it sticks. Looking through the slats, I see Shaina sitting on the toilet with wide eyes and tears running down her face.
I should go. I should get the hell out here. I should not get involved with this. I shouldn’t. It got me nowhere last time.
She has her demons … and I have mine. I feel it in my bones that, if I stay, this will change my life forever. And if I go, it will do the same. The shock and fear slice through me, though, and I can’t stop myself.
“Shaina, open up. Let me help you.” Fuck, what am I saying? Here’s to cracking open a new can of worms.
“What do you want, Breaker?”
Hearing my name on her lips feels like sunshine shimmering down on me, warm and bright. I missed that word coming from her.
“Let’s talk.”
She gives out a harrumph. “Yeah, talk and talk and talk until I’m blue in the face and can’t breathe. Talking doesn’t help, Breaker. Didn’t help then; it doesn’t help now.”
While I know this is true, I reach in my pocket, pull out my knife, flip it open, stick it in the lock, and then turn it slowly to disengage the lock.
Shaina leaps from the toilet, crossing her arms over her body. “What are you doing?” Her words are rushed and frantic as she bats the wetness away from her face.
I place my knife back in my pocket and hold my hands up in surrender. I don’t want to hurt her. I never want to hurt her ever. “Relax. You’re safe here.”
She makes some noise in the back of her throat, the same one I remember she makes when she is frustrated. “You think I don’t know how much they hate me? How much they should hate me? I was a bitch, a horrible one. I said shit to GT that I haven’t ever apologized for. I led Casey or Angel, or whatever you call her now, to suffer along with me. I deserve to be dead, Breaker, so nothing you say can help. No one can help me.”
“Babe, not here to fix ya. You know I can’t do that shit.”
She rests her shoulder against the stall. “You know, I never thanked you, either.”
The words are like a punch to the gut, but I don’t show it. “Nothing to thank me for.”
She chokes a bit. “Right.”
While I never expected a thank you, her leaving without a good-bye really clawed at me.
I step back from the stall. “Come out of there.”
Shaina bats at her face again, getting rid of the new wetness, but she comes out.
“Now what?” she asks like I have some grand answer.
Like always, I go with the first thing that pops in my head. “Let’s go to my room and talk.”
She sucks in a breath, and a beat passes … then another … then another. Finally, she nods.
It isn’t as if Shaina has never been in my room before. She has. She and I know far too well the time we spent together in that space.
Shaina screams in her sleep so hard I wake up from the couch in my room and roll over to look at her. She thrashes in my bed, twisting into the sheet, pulling it tighter and tighter. She’s having another nightmare, and they are getting worse.
Shit.
I spring up and move to the bed.
Her screams of “Stop” and “Don’t” echo through my head, putting me back in a place I don’t want to be. I don’t what her there, either. I want to erase it from her head, even if I can’t erase my memories from mine.
“Shaina,” I say quiet yet firm placing my hand on her arm.
She proceeds to fight me off, which I expect since it has happened the last few nights.
I hold tight and give her a squeeze, not letting her go. Not with enough pressure that will cause a mark, but enough to hopefully engage her thoughts.
It takes several minutes of me releasing her arm then squeezing before her eyes begin to flutter open and the sleep begins to dissipate. Then she jack-knifes from the bed, her eyes darting frantically around the space, and I move back a few steps, letting her realize where she is.
“You’re safe, Shaina,” I tell her, calming her frantic gaze.
She chokes out a sob then sucks in deep. “Safe. I don’t even know what that means anymore.”
A pang in my chest hits hard, and I can’t stop the protective mode my body goes into. She’s so small and fragile and beautiful.
“I’m going to sit on the bed.”
She nods as she shrinks herself into a little ball up at the headboard, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. She’s terrified and scared, and I absolutely hate it.
I would have loved to be there when the brothers took out those assholes who hurt her.
Should I be pissed at her? Hell, yes. She lured Angel so that fucker Paine could get to her to hurt the club. On the flip side, Shaina also came to Princess for help, and we turned her away. Sure, she was a total bitch to GT at Diamond’s funeral, demanding money, so there was great reason to turn her away. But if we would have helped her, she wouldn’t be where she is now, and Angel wouldn’t have been where she is. That is on us.
It’s all a vicious circle of would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.
“Talk to me.” I have said the same words to her every night she’s been in my bed.
Princess wanted to put her downstairs, but after hearing the possibility of what those fuckers did to her, I couldn’t, so I told Princess I would look after her. She didn’t question it; she simply told me she was grateful, that she didn’t really want her alone. Unfortunately, I knew what her nights would entail, and I couldn’t in my right mind allow her to deal with it all by herself.
Shaina shakes her head as tears well in her eyes and fall from her long lashes. “I can’t,” she whispers, the pai
n leaking from her voice.
“I get that. What can I do?”
She wipes her face roughly, turning it even more red from the brutality of the swipes. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”
I know exactly how she feels: alone, broken, beaten.
Fuck, she looks like hell yet doesn’t. At least, I don’t see her that way. Regardless, she’s not at a place for me to tell her any of that. Hell, I’m not at a place for that, either.
“You haven’t really slept in a few days, Shaina. Can I hold you? Will that help you sleep?”
Yeah, dumbass, a man holding her is really going to help. Men did this to her, hurt her, and here I am, telling her I will hold her while she sleeps. Sometimes, I stupefy myself.
“No,” she says shakily.
I have no clue if it will help or won’t, but it’s the only thing I can come up with because she needs to sleep. The bags under her eyes are getting worse and worse. Her battered body needs the sleep to heal, at least physically. Mentally is an entirely different animal.
“Just to sleep, Shaina. I don’t fuck women without my brother around, so you have nothing to worry about.” For a man who doesn’t speak much, I sure have a lot to say to Shaina. Some of it, I’m ready to kick my own ass for.
Her brows furrow when she looks at me as if she doesn’t believe a word I said. Unfortunately, I told her the truth. I have never evaluated why I need Buzz in the room with me when I’m with a woman. He says I need to get my shit sorted, and he’s right. Even with him in the room, not participating, that shit is fucked up.
I need to pull my head out of my ass. Seeing Shaina like this only drives that point home.
“Why?” she asks.
“Not talkin’ about it.” I don’t have an answer, and I refuse to talk about my childhood, which I’m sure it leads back to. That door is closed.
“So, let me get this straight. You want me to tell you all about the shit that happened to me, but you won’t talk about you? What the fuck?” Her tone is clipped. She’s pissed. I like this much better than the broken shell of a woman in tears.
“I’m just going to lie here, and if you’d like to lie down, too, you can,” I try to throw her off the subject.
“Oh, no. You talk.” The damn woman is as smart as her father, calling me out on my bullshit.
My gut twists and turns as the bile starts to come up. I haven’t talked about this in years, and I’m not about to open it back up. I just can’t.
I look her dead in the eye so she knows I mean every single word. “I know what it feels like. That’s all you’re gettin’, so don’t ask for more.” Fuck, that is the most I have ever told another soul besides my brother. Part of me feels a bit of panic for revealing it, while another feels a small bit of relief. Buzz is right; I need my shit sorted.
Her eyes flash in some sort of recognition as the anger leaves her and tears shine in her eyes. I do not need her sympathy or her pity in any way.
I lie on the bed and put my hands behind my head, resting on a pillow, not saying another word. There is nothing to say.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Finally, what feels like an hour later, she slides down and lies flat, her face to me, her legs tucked up to her chest. She says nothing, and neither do I. We simply lie there. I stare at the ceiling; she stares at me. I know because I can see her out the corner of my eye. Part of me wonders what she’s seeing, but the other part wants to kick my own ass for even bringing this shit to my doorstep.
Her breathing slows, and I no longer feel her penetrating stare. I look over to see she’s sound asleep, her face soft and relaxed, her breathing paced evenly. Her long hair is swept behind her with her hands tucked under her face. She’s peaceful.
I don’t move, because the sight before me clutches something inside of me. Something I have never had happen ever. She’s beautiful, totally beautiful.
I turn away and look back at the ceiling, shaking off that last thought. I’m too fucked up to ever have or even think about having another person. No matter how pretty or how much this woman pulls at every instinct I have, she doesn’t need my demons, too. She has enough to deal with. However, if I can give her some peace, even for a little while, I will do it.
I lie there for hours. At some point, I finally fall asleep.
That morning, when she woke up, she was curled against my side, her head resting on my chest and a hand on my abs. I will never forget that moment in my life, no matter how much I want to, because for once in my pitiful life, I felt whole, something I never knew could exist for me.
I open the door to my room, and Shaina follows me. Shutting it, I turn to her, and as much as I know she doesn’t need more shit, my anger slips a bit.
“Care to tell me why the hell you just took off and I didn’t even get as much as a ‘fuck you very much?’ ”
Her eyes widen, as they should. Disappearing from a man’s bed without a word isn’t something I can let go of just because she walks back in the doors of Ravage.
I should have just ignored the call from Ma. I shouldn’t have picked it up. Why do I keep making mistake after mistake? First, I should have never stormed into this place after my father died. Scratch that, my first mistake was never getting to know my father in the first place. Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve, and all of that. It’s all water under the bridge now. He’s dead, and I can’t change that. I have those actions on my soul, and they are seared in there like a brand.
When Ma called, I was shocked and surprised. After the shit I spewed out, calling GT a killer and demanding money from the club, then getting Casey jacked up with those fuckers, I was surprised she even wanted me here. That they would want to protect me in the first place.
While I regret what happened with Casey, I don’t know what I would have done differently. Those assholes threatened my mother, the only person I have left on this planet. Protecting my mother was and is my top priority. Still, bringing Casey into the whole mess was a really shitty thing to do.
GT hates me. Hell, this whole club hates me except maybe Casey and possibly even Ma.
Her calling me totally blew me out of the water. It felt like she was extending an olive branch, and with my mom out of the country with her boyfriend, I was all alone. Honestly, I was also scared since she felt the need to call to warn me.
I grabbed that branch, knowing what could happen to me if the bad people got me again.
I cringe at the thought and focus on the man in front of me, instead. That’s a much better thought than the former.
Breaker stares at me, pissed as hell, and he has every right to be. Not only for what I did concerning the club and Casey, but also for leaving the way I did. That is another check mark on the long list of mistakes I made.
Strong arms wrap around me, cocooning me in warmth and safety. I expect the fear to hit like it has every other morning I have woken up this exact way, but it doesn’t. For the first time in weeks, it doesn’t come.
The fear is on the outside of these arms. Here, in this spot, I don’t have to be afraid. No, Breaker will protect me, just like he has proved every night I have slept here with him.
I inhale his scent, and a small part of my body comes alive, but I shut it down quickly. I am not ready for any more intimacy than what Breaker is giving me right now.
He gives it without expecting anything in return. Who does that? What man does not expect anything in return, just being someone’s rock when they can’t seem to stand on their own?
Therein lies the problem. Not only is he my rock, but he’s also gained a place in my heart. A heart I didn’t think would ever beat or feel like this ever. A heart I thought was shattered in a dingy room where my hands and legs were tied. A room I never thought I would escape alive.
Him holding me in this position every night has made my heart beat again, which scares the hell out of me.
The weight of this realization hits me. B
reathing becomes difficult, and I try to get some air, all while not waking Breaker up.
“Are you okay?” he asks into my ear, and I jolt, never feeling a single change in his breathing to know he is awake.
“Yeah,” I say instantly, hearing the slight shake of my voice. I clamp it down and say, “Yeah, Breaker, I’m good. I need to go to the bathroom.”
He releases me, and I immediately pause, my chest tightening to the point of pain. This pain is so much different than the physical I endured. No, this is so deep on an emotional level it’s scary.
I need to get out of here. I can go up to my mom’s cabin. It’s secluded, and she has a security system in place. I can go there and find my safety.
I rise from the bed, grab my clothes, and take them in with me. After I close the door, the reprieve I hoped I would feel doesn’t come. Instead, my anxiety strengthens, feeling like it’s pulling me down.
I do my business and dress. Then I suck in a breath. The only way I’m going to be able to follow through with this is if I act like everything is normal for me, whatever that is.
Opening the door, I find Breaker is already dressed.
“Gotta run,” he says, coming toward me. He lifts my chin. “You okay?” he asks, and his concern nearly has me coming apart at the seams.
“As always,” I tell him, not wanting to lie.
He studies me, and for a moment, a brief second, the look in his eyes tells me he wants to kiss me. But then it vanishes.
“Right. I’ll be back later.” He releases me then leaves the room.
Once the door clicks, instant sorrow punches me in the gut, and I feel the tears exploding from my eyes. I allow myself to get them all out as I sit on the bed.
After what feels like forever, I rise and pack my things in my lone duffle bag. I look at the bed and at the indentation where Breaker’s head lay on the cream pillow. Without thinking, I walk over and pull the pillow out of the case and tuck the fabric inside my bag. I may not have him with me, but at least I will have this piece.
After talking briefly to Casey, I leave and don’t look back.
I wrap my arms around myself, wishing like hell it would put a protective shield around my body, around my emotions. It’s a no-go. The air in the room grows thick, and I can feel the bad waves floating off Breaker, making my heart hurt. I never wanted to make him mad, but like everything else in my life, I screwed that up, as well.