There You Stand

by Christina Lee

  I shook my head to clear the confusion from my brain.

  “Let’s go.” Jude tipped his chin to the bike. “You’re in bad shape, mate.”

  The plan was convoluted because I would have to circle back just to get Chopper in the morning. All I did was take the damn dog for a walk. I swear that ridiculous mutt causes more trouble than he’s worth.

  All at once, my chest tightened and my breath stalled in my lungs. Jude’s eyes widened like he had no idea what the hell to do with me as I bent at the waist and attempted to inhale through my mouth.

  “Sorry, give me a minute,” I said in a wheezy voice.

  Hands on my knees, I caught my breath, suddenly feeling humiliated and more than a little sore. I cringed and straightened myself, refusing to meet his gaze. I couldn’t even begin to guess what in the hell I looked like at this point.

  Dirty face. Bloody legs. Fucking panic attack.

  But then I heard a noise low in Jude’s throat, as if he was trying to rein himself in as well. When my gaze darted to his face, his eyes were creased in concern, he was biting his bottom lip, and his hand was raised midair as if he were about to comfort me.

  We stared at each other across the pavement for a long moment, before he turned, extended his leg, and sat down on the bike. He got down to business by turning the key to the start position and placing the bike in neutral. Except it failed to start.

  “Sometimes you’ve got to pull the choke cable . . .” I said, because I knew from experience if a bike sat collecting dust, it could be difficult to get going. Especially a Sportster, which some consider the trickiest to ride because of the way the gas tank sits higher, throwing off the center of gravity.

  On Jude’s second attempt, it roared to life. It sounded so powerful that I shivered.

  I couldn’t get my limbs to move, even though I needed to in order to get home. The last time I’d been on the back of a hog was with David. And David was . . . everything.

  I took a deep, steely breath. David was gone. Time to move on.

  Jude sat back on the seat and looked pointedly at me. As if we had switched roles and he was the one egging me on. He knew that something was wrong. That I was struggling with his plan. He gaze swept to the street and concern flitted through his eyes. Like he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing and that made my stomach bottom out.

  I stood frozen, not even remembering how to move. My leg was bent at the knee, using my other limb for support, because it was throbbing.

  “Cory,” he said, and then my eyes darted to his lips. I couldn’t even help myself. The way he said my name was pure heaven.

  I got myself together and climbed on back. This was only a damn ride home. My fingers lifted to the back of his shirt and gripped, which I knew would not be enough leverage to support me once he sped off. I slid forward on the seat, my crotch flush against his hips, and slipped my arms around his waist to his stomach.

  I felt rather than heard his intake of breath while his abdominal muscles contracted beneath my touch. It felt easier knowing this closeness affected him as much as it did me. I loosened my grasp but by the time we were on the street, I didn’t care anymore. I clutched tighter and tucked my head, my stomach performing a damn acrobatic routine.

  I could smell him. Sweat and moss and cedar mixed together. I had the urge to bury my nose in the center of his back, my lips wandering upward to the nape of his neck.

  He was an alert driver, looking in every direction, as hyperaware of his surroundings as ever. His caution transferred to me, and a shiver travelled across my shoulders. He must’ve felt it because his hand moved back and fleetingly squeezed the fist that clutched his shirt, before falling away.

  Each time he rounded a corner, I braced my thighs reflexively against his torso because it was difficult to relinquish control and simply hang on. This might have seemed like a simple ride on the outside, but it was hard to trust someone when you’ve rarely seen them vulnerable.

  Before I knew it, we were on my street and it hit me that he hadn’t even asked for directions. How in the hell did he know the town house I lived in?

  Maybe Jude had checked up on me and was way more dangerous that I had given him credit for. Maybe he had this bike because he was an honorary member of the Disciples of the Road. Or a new recruit.

  I had a feeling that if I asked him, I’d get no response, so I just dropped it. When he came to a full stop at my doorstep, I carefully climbed off the back.

  “Hey, thanks,” I said, retreating to the door. “Sorry that I took up so much of your evening. I’ll get Chopper from you first thing and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  I noticed how he thinned his lips and tucked them inside his mouth as if to stop himself from saying something. Probably because I was a sweaty, rambling, pathetic mess.

  I looked down at his bike, the red paint, the chrome wheels, appreciating that it had ended up being a pretty sweet ride.

  “Do you ever . . .” I shook my head. “Never mind.”

  Still he didn’t move, as if imploring me with his eyes to ask my question.

  I thought of David and me out on the open road, camping a couple of hours away, beneath the stars. “Ever go for a long ride out of town? It’s a nice change of scenery.”

  I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, considering my question. He’d said tons of words to me already tonight but now I was intruding again. It was those quiet moments between his words that pierced me and caused the most damage.

  His voice had filled up the hollow, but now his silence emptied it.

  I started moving toward my door. “Forget it.”

  “I—” he began speaking and I stopped forward progress immediately. “I should do it more often. Been on the go so much lately that staying put felt good for a change.”

  And then as if he regretted giving me that kernel of information, he broke his gaze and wheeled the bike around to make his exit.

  As my mind ticked through options of why he’d moved around so much, he lifted his hand in a wave.

  You’d never suspect it was Jude York on that motorcycle with that helmet planted firmly on his head. He was such a fixture on his skateboard that he became an enigma right then. I couldn’t help wondering what it might feel like to drive off into oblivion with him by my side.

  ***

  I shot up in bed realizing I had slept in late and had a shift in a couple of hours. I had missed my workout and walk. Not that I could make it with my damn foot problem.

  Outside of some tightness and throbbing, I could tell my ankle felt better this morning. I didn’t need stitches for Christ’s sake. If I got my ass in gear now, I could walk with Ace to pick up Chopper.

  When my doorbell unexpectedly rang, Ace ran to the front room and started barking. I threw on a pair of sweat shorts and hobbled to the door. Jude and Chopper stood on the landing. Fuck, I had taken too long.

  “I thought you could use the rest,” Jude said after tearing his eyes away from my bare midriff. Instinctively I raised my hand to my chest, maybe in a lame attempt to cover up, and his gaze followed my fingers.

  I worked hard to keep in shape and the guys I’d been with seemed to appreciate the effort. I didn’t have six-pack abs but I knew I was built. The way Jude was looking at me right now made me want to grab him and pull him inside my house so I could shove my tongue down his throat.

  The front of my sweats tightened in response and I took a leveling breath to grab hold of my damn fantasies. I had no clue what Jude’s story was, it was difficult enough building an acquaintance.

  “I bet you had a good sleepover, Chopper.” I patted him on the head and let him inside where he circled and nuzzled Ace.

  Jude bit his lip as he bent over and removed his skateboard from his Velcro backpack.

  “How did you know where I live anyway?” I asked as he placed one foot on the board.

  His eyebrows slammed together and his lips drew in a straight line.

  “It’s just . .
. you never asked for directions last night.”

  His eye narrowed and I had no clue why he’d be so pissed at my query.

  “You know what, screw it,” I said scraping my fingers across my abs in frustration.

  As he began rolling away, I bit out, “Guess you used up your word quota for the week.”

  His head and shoulders slumped forward and all I felt was hollow.

  Chapter Nine

  During the next couple of days, scabs had formed on my shin and foot and my limp was less prominent. After icing my ankle for one more night, it was back to normal the next day. The guys at Raw Ink gave me shit for being such a klutz and when Dex had asked what the hell happened, he could not get over my story.

  “That damn dog you inherited will be the death of you. Or something else will be,” he said, his eyes narrowing in collusion. “You see any heavy ammo at Jude’s place?”

  My head snapped up from my roast beef sandwich. “What the fuck?”

  Dex’s eyebrows rose. I always horsed around and normally went with the flow, so I could understand why my quickness to anger confused the heck out of him.

  “Dude, I’m messing with you. Just want you to be careful,” he said and then lowered his voice. “Rumor has it that he’s got ties to that MC club.”

  “The Disciples of the Road?” I said, rolling my eyes. “Those guys aren’t as scary as you think they are. Christ, you’re just as bad as everyone else.”

  I hadn’t meant to get defensive, because who the hell was I kidding? Those MC dudes were intimidating as sin. I’d hate to get caught in their crosshairs.

  But I’ll admit, my reaction to Dex’s question was a bit much. Believe me, life had kicked me in the ass plenty. Nobody should have to endure the wrath of everything brewing inside of me. So I tempered my anger.

  “Sorry. It’s just that you’re talking shit and he comes in here to get ink from me. I don’t want to catch any hell from him or anybody else,” I said. “Just keep your trap shut.”

  Dex backed away, his hands raised. “No need to say it twice.”

  But I couldn’t help thinking about what I’d seen that night at the Hog’s Den. How he seemed to be stopping by for something more than just a friendly to-go order. I wouldn’t have thought anything more of it except that Jude never talked to anybody, so that interaction with the bartender had stuck out like a sore thumb.

  I’d considered more than once whether Jude was involved with the Disciples in some way or in their business dealings.

  What about the way he’d told me his fishing gear would be fine, how he’d looked around like he was being watched, and the distinct sound of a motorcycle I’d heard close by?

  I wasn’t stupid. Even though it was never broadcasted, I knew this town was Disciples turf and they were kings. Dex had said he’d suspected they were involved in moving guns and stolen property. I kept my eyes averted and my nose clean at the bar because I just wanted a discreet place to chill out and talk motorcycles. Period.

  I hadn’t laid eyes on Jude since he dropped off Chopper and I’d tried to avoid the park because my brain was all messed up when it came to that silent British boy. Especially since he’d seemed pissed that morning. Maybe it was my big mouth or maybe I had somehow touched upon the truth.

  But deep down I was most unsettled about Jude York because in a lot of ways, we had something in common. We were both hiding, or in my case, not willing to face up to some truths.

  I had gotten pretty good at deflecting. The only one who knew my real story outside of my Grandma was Dex, since he was also a transplant from my previous shop. I had dated David the entire time I worked there. But afterward, I had wanted a change. Besides, the owner was a dick, so after Dex had started working at Raw Ink, I applied for the openings there as well.

  When Jude had noticed my back problem, I nearly became unhinged. Nobody had ever come close to zeroing in on my past. I had showed up to my first day of work at Raw Ink a new man. I was always pretty easygoing anyway, so despite Dex having witnessed the worst year of my life, he just went with it. And never brought it up again.

  After my shift at the tattoo shop, I headed over to the shelter with Emmy.

  “We need to hose out the cages today,” Emmy said, her eyes alight with happiness like they always were when she came here. She was one of those people who had a true calling to work with animals. And no matter how much I grumbled about her hoodwinking me into volunteering, just watching her in action always turned my thinking around. At least this place was a no-kill shelter.

  Cleaning the cages was a dirty job but somebody had to do it. And if you took on Emmy’s sunny outlook, we were giving the animals cleaner and healthier living quarters. But just the idea of them existing in cages turned my stomach. So I pretended it was a temporary resting spot because I couldn’t allow myself to think that these dogs were going to be there forever.

  Emmy was so into these animals they were like her babies. Especially where her favorite dog, Patch, was concerned. He was a black-and-white mutt, probably had some Australian shepherd in him, though it was hard to tell. I didn’t know who the hell came up with the name Patch, but I guess it stuck. I supposed he did look like some kind of rag doll, the poor pathetic thing.

  Emmy loaded her pocket with treats and waved to our supervisor on duty, a guy named Tristan. Though she wouldn’t readily admit it, she had the hots for him. And based on the long look he had given her, he felt the same way. So why didn’t they act on it? Who knows, I thought to myself. Shit got complicated. Someone might ask the same thing about Jude and me.

  The tension between us was palpable and had it been any other guy, I would’ve made my intentions known. I didn’t have time to dick around. If you wanted to fuck, then let’s fuck. If you wanted more, then let’s see where it leads.

  But there was something altogether different about Jude that made me handle this situation with kid gloves. Not only did I not know for certain whether he was bi or gay, I also didn’t know much of anything else about him. Except that he had horrible scars on his back, he grew up in England, and had a remarkable gift when it came to skateboards and dogs.

  He was like some of these abused, caged animals. If you got too close, they’d retreat or maybe even bite to send a message to back the hell off. You had to take your time or you’d lose their trust. With Jude, I just badly wanted to know him—and my resolve was weakening with every stride.

  As soon as we made it to the large posterior room, loud barking and whining commenced, as usual. And this was the toughest part for me. All the dogs wanted our attention and we only had so much to spread around. Because no matter how mistreated or abandoned they’d been, they still wanted what everybody else did—to belong to somebody. I didn’t know how Emmy could stand it day after day. They desperately wanted to be loved and shown affection and it broke my heart nearly every damn time.

  In my own quiet way, I understood that desperation. That need. And because of it, I went by each cage and took my time greeting each of the dogs. They were so happy to see me and probably still would be without the darn treats I offered them with each pat on the head.

  Beginning with the last row of cages, I moved the dogs to the large enclosure at the corner of the room so I could clean their area. It also gave them time to socialize with each other. I had to know which dogs were friendly with each other before I placed them together and Emmy had been helpful with that. Otherwise all hell would break loose.

  “I’ll get to you, Patch,” Emmy said as she passed by her favorite dog’s cage. She tried not to show them preferential treatment, but if Patch had any reasoning skills he might’ve guessed he was the dog that Emmy preferred. I wished she could move into her own apartment that allowed animals, so she could finally have Patch as her own. It gutted me that she cared so damn much and didn’t have the means to do anything about it.

  The guilt I felt when Chopper wormed his way into my life was even worse. Though Emmy was happy the dog had somebody to take c
are of him, I knew she was hoping I’d adopt her favorite hound. I couldn’t believe I had agreed to begin with. But that’s what a night at Zach’s over a couple of beers and a game of “never have I ever” had done to me. Before I knew it, I had told her I was interested in a companion for Ace. The following week, I was visiting the shelter and then volunteering after that.

  God, I was a sucker for a hopeless cause.

  “Anything going down with you and Tristan yet?” I asked as I passed by her to turn the nozzle on the hose.

  Her cheeks washed with color. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean, Emmy,” I said, and waggled my eyebrows. “You can be straight with me.”

  “No, nothing. But I wish,” she said, sighing. “How about you and skater boy?”

  I was so stunned I almost dropped the hose and got us both drenched. “Huh?”

  “See, doesn’t feel so good being outed about your crush, does it?”

  Guess I was more transparent than I thought I was. “Problem is, I might be barking up the wrong tree. It’s hard when you’re gay to know if someone is going to knock your lights out for showing interest.”

  “Gosh, Cory, I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, soaping up the sponge. “Damn.”

  “No biggie,” I said. “So if you don’t mind, let’s keep our little crushes under wraps, yeah?”

  My back was on fire by the time I finished hosing out the cages. Happened every time but it had to be done. Eventually I’d probably need disc surgery, but for now, I’d just suck it up. The throbbing was bound to pass anyway.

  After placing the mutts back in clean cages, Emmy and I took a few of the dogs for a walk. She had Patch, Buddy, and Marley. I had Kane, Max, and Bailey. As soon as I got moving, my back felt better. Well, between that and the three Motrins I’d popped.

  As we neared the all-too-familiar grassy fields from my morning walks, I kept my eyes trained ahead.