by K. L. Savage
“You’ll live your life, with Jo, like you’ve been doing.”
“Mom, you’re… You can’t accept this. I can’t accept this.” I step away from her and open the sliding glass door beside us. “I need a minute alone. I need to think.” The night is cool, typical for the desert, but it doesn’t do anything for the heat in my veins. Am I overreacting? I’m supposed to be this big, badass biker who can take anything, but this… I don’t know how to process this. I’ve never been closer with another soul. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust my mom. We’ve been through hell together. We survived. We are survivors. Things don’t just come to an end.
I stare up at the sky, and the stars are finally out, twinkling beautifully. I clutch my chest as my heart breaks all over again, and I let it all out. I’m alone. No one can see me. I’m allowed to fall apart when the only company I have is agony.
I’m not as strong as everyone makes me out to be. I hold a lot inside because I don’t know how to deal with half of the emotions that I feel. Strength isn’t only about physical ability but mental too. Mentally, I’m torn in pieces.
“Fuck.” I drop to my knees and pound my fist against the sand.
I’m picturing cancer, my father, club enemies, and beating the shit out of it. My eyes cloud as I keep hitting, punching. I throw small rocks and dried twigs from dead plants. I cry, silently, and try to work out a way to come to terms with this on my own.
If I want to be honest, I’ve been lucky. I’ve never had to do anything on my own before, not really. I’ve never been alone. I’ve always had my mom and my MC. The only torment I’ve known is the kind I give myself and what my dad has done to me.
I sound like a momma’s boy, I know, but no one understands what she did for me all those years ago and now, the one time I could have been of use, I’m worthless. I have to sit back and watch her die.
My fingers dig into the sand, curling around the granules as they embed under my nails. I feel like that little boy at sixteen-years-old, tied to the bed, my back split open from my dad; only this time, Mom doesn’t come to save me. I have to sit through the torture and hope the pain stops.
But it never stops, does it? Life is a carousel that never stops spinning.
“Eric…” Jo’s hand lands on my shoulder, and the sudden touch has me opening my eyes. She’s seeing me raw, unhinged, and broken for the first time. She’s going to see how weak I really am. “I’m so sorry,” she says, climbing into my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. “I’m here for you. I’m right here. Just like you’ve been for me. I’m here.”
My arms tangle around her waist, and I hold on tight, holding on to the woman I’ve been anchored to in some way. I bury my face into her neck and inhale, my wet cheeks rub against her skin, and I do my best to hold in my emotions.
I have to be strong for her.
“Let it out,” she says. “It’s okay. You’re in a safe place.”
This is why I’ve been so drawn to her. My heart knew he only place I’d be able to let go and be myself is with her. Jo is my safe place.
“I’m not picture-perfect, but I know what it is to hurt, Eric. It’s okay to hurt, right? That’s what you’ve taught me.”
I lean back and brush my fingers across her neck and bury them in her thick hair. I flinch when she wipes my cheeks off and realize she’s the one cleaning my tears away.
“It’s okay to be sad when someone you love breaks you.” She lays her forehead against mine, and I tug her closer to me. Jo wraps her legs around my hips, and her touch has my soul settling.
Someone I love might have broken me, but someone I’m falling in love with just might heal me too.
The drive back to the clubhouse is silent. The devastation pouring off Eric is choking me, so I can’t imagine how suffocated he must feel.
“She killed for me,” Eric says in the silence, the headlights eating the black pavement as we drive down Loneliest Road.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“My mom,” he clarifies, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, but his grip on my hand is gentle and loose. “My dad, he was an abusive asshole. I wouldn’t get a good grade, or I wouldn’t say the right thing, or I wouldn’t clean the kitchen floor until he could see his reflection; he’d tie me to the bed and cut me. He was a doctor, so he’d use his scalpel.”
I gasp and remember the tease of scars I saw on his back earlier today. “He did that to you? But, there are so many, and they are so deep…”
“He did it all the time. He’d wait until I healed just enough and then punish me again. My mom, she was great. She was everything a mom should be. She was a criminal defense attorney, so she worked a lot, but she always made time for me. When the school would call her and tell her what a great job I did, she’d praise me, but anything less than an A, my father would cut me. The last time…” His jaw flexes, and a shiver runs through his body. He readjusts himself like something is bothering him. He won’t let his back touch the seat. “The last time was the worst. He kept cutting and cutting. It hurt so damn bad. He pulled down my pants and cut me on my ass. He accused me of being gay, swore he’d show me what being a “bottom bitch” would be like. My mom came home just in time. She knocked on the door, and Dad acted like he was asleep. He threatened me, telling me to stay quiet. Mom knew something was going on. She kicked the door in with a gun in her hand, and she shot him in the shoulders, the knees, and eventually killed him when she saw what he did to me. She felt so bad because she ignored her gut feeling for a long time, thinking it was all in her head. She called one of her previous clients, Demon’s Fury Philadelphia Chapter, and they came over and took care of the body, and their doc stitched me up.”
“That’s why you’re a doctor.”
“No. I’m a doctor because I wanted to be the one with the fucking scalpel. I wanted the control.” His forearm tightens as he holds onto the wheel, reminding me of a braided rope. “There’s something else too, something only my mom knows and Reaper, but that’s it. It’s one of my secrets. It’s one that I want to take to my grave because I don’t want to be associated with them, okay? This stays between us, please?” Eric’s breath is as strong as an earthquake, vibrating his chest as he shakes.
“Eric, of course. You can trust me. I’d never hurt you like that,” I admit, squeezing his hand in reassurance.
He remains silent, staring at the windshield.
“What is it?” I prod.
“Please, know that I’m not him, okay?”
“I know that, Eric. You are far from being the monster your father was.”
He side-eyes me and unclasps my hand to grip the wheel, then lean his left elbow against the driver’s side door. I miss the warmth of his palm against mine already. He feels like he needs space and I have to respect that until he tells me what is on his mind. “My dad was the doctor for the Ruthless Kings Atlantic City Chapter. I’m a legacy.”
For a moment, all I can hear is the hum of the tires and the hair on my arms prickling on my skin from the air conditioning blowing through the vents. My heart is a sledgehammer, pounding with violence against bone to try and break me all over again.
I stare at Eric’s profile and analyze him. This is a man who keeps saving me from myself. He is nothing like those men. I don’t fear him. My heart isn’t missing its beats because I’m afraid of Eric, but from hearing their name again.
“Can you forgive me?” he asks, unable to stand the quiet between us.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I finally say. “You aren’t him. You aren’t them. You’re better. You’re…” I roll my lips together, searching for the right word. “You’re my guardian angel while they were my prison guards.”
It’s the only way I know how to explain it.
Eric is a healer for all people, but he is a savior for me.
I feel sick that someone would do that to their child. I could never do that to mine if I ever had a kid. My stomach flutters, and an overwhelming emotion
takes over, threatening more tears. I’ve cried more in the last few days than I ever have, but right now, I realize if I had an abortion, I would be a harm to my child like Eric’s father was to him. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry he didn’t love you like you needed. God, I am devastated for you.” I bring his hand to my lips and kiss the knuckles. I can’t kiss him while he’s driving. “You deserve all the love, Eric. More than anyone can give.”
I’m not paying attention to the road, but the truck slows and stops moving. I glance up from our hands and see he’s pulled off to the side. He turns in his seat, cheeks red, eyes puffy from the breakdown at his mom’s house. His fingers stroke my cheek, and he stares at me… I don’t know how to explain it. There is so much emotion behind it.
“Thank you,” he says. The gravel in his throat makes his voice deeper. “I’m a little lost right now. My mom has been my anchor. I’m not as independent as everyone makes me out to be. My mom is the sounding board, the fucking grit, the wisdom. I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”
“I’ll help you figure it out,” I whisper, leaning into his touch and soaking it in. I’ve never had a touch like this before. So caring, so soft, so timid. It’s like he never wants to stop touching me, and I never want him to. Is this what we’ve been ignoring? Why? He makes me feel … new.
A new person.
A new woman.
Stronger. Smarter.
And less afraid.
“I want to figure this out with you.” He moves his hand from my face and lays it across my stomach. “I need you to be honest. I need a battle I can win, and I know I can win this for you.”
I lay my hand over his and swallow. “I wish I could tell you more. I only see flashes.”
“I want to help you with this too.” He rubs his thumb across the bandage on my wrist.
“One fight at a time,” I admit. “I’ll tell you what I know about that night. I have… had, I guess…” I correct myself, thinking about that night. “I had a friend, his name was Brody. I went to his apartment for a party. I took a drink from him, and I had no reason not to trust him. He was always nice. We studied together. I took the drink, and everything after that… I can’t tell if it’s a dream or if it happened. I remember him over me, but I can’t remember feeling anything. I remember a bad feeling, right here.” I point to my stomach. “I woke up the next day and I was home; that’s all, Eric. I swear. I didn’t want to have sex with anyone. Not unless—” I stop myself from admitting that the only person I ever thought of having sex with was Eric.
I noticed when I met him that he made my fear go away, and I wanted to submerge myself in it, bathe in it, and become addicted to it.
“Anyway, that’s it.” The truth and how bad it sounds makes my fingers itch for a razor. Anxiety pumps in my chest, and the need to relax, to forget, to feel a pinch of pain is nearly intolerable.
Eric turns my head and presses his lips against mine, claiming my mouth in a heated frenzy that melts my brain and tunes in to another channel. I’m no longer thinking of Brody and the need for a razor; I’m thinking of Eric, and once again, he’s making me feel like a new woman.
I don’t want to be the old me.
I want to be afraid of not living enough.
Eric gives me that urgency to live a better life, but I’ve never had a better life until the Ruthless Kings decided to give me one when they saved me.
His tongue tangles with mine, and I bite his bottom lip and suck it into my mouth. He growls and slides his hands under my arms and lifts me over the middle console.
“Keep your arms turned up and lay them on my shoulders. I don’t want to hurt you.” He moves my legs over his lap. His hands grab onto the thickness of my hips and then smacks my ass as he explores the lower half of my body.
I gulp, swallowing my nerves as his larger than life palms devour me, squeezing my globes harder than anyone ever has. Gasping, I watch as his eyes close and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. His cock is hard between my legs, and a hot sheen of sweat breaks over my skin when I feel how wide he is. “Jo, your ass. Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. “You have no idea how much I want you.” He grips my hips and rolls them forward, rubbing the V between my legs over his cock.
The crown brushes over my swollen clit and I moan, remembering how good it feels to be wanted. He grunts and tilts his head to the right, smashing his lips against mine. I can’t get enough of his mouth. It’s hot, wet, silky, and he knows how to kiss.
Really kiss.
I almost can’t keep up.
His kiss is desperate, a frantic need that builds with every glide of his lips and touch of his hands. The truck starts to rock, and the windows start to fog. I feel like I’m seventeen again, looking to get away to the best hookup spot where no one can find us and we can do what we want.
I’m lost in him.
The needle in my compass is broken and can no longer tell me to run the other way to keep him safe from me.
Safe because he won’t have to worry about me. I’m not the strongest mentally. In the end, when I hurt myself, I’ll hurt him. I never want to do that. I want to be the woman he can lean on. I want to be strong enough for the both of us.
It’s either I run and break our hearts or stay and hope I don’t.
I’ve never followed directions anyway.
I throw myself into the kiss, and a gush of wet heat leaves my pussy, soaking my panties. We need to stop. He isn’t in the right mindset for this. I’m not either. I’m pregnant with another man’s baby for crying out loud. He doesn’t want me.
My lust starts to fade.
Eric is looking for an outlet.
With a broken whimper from his cock sliding over my clit one last time, I pull away. “Stop, Eric. Stop,” I say, slumping against the steering wheel. His shoulders rise and fall, his lips swollen and red from our kiss.
He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t push.
Something in the back of my mind tickles my senses, a memory. It’s foggy. I can’t tell what it is, but it’s there, but the veil is too thick to penetrate.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, catching my breath as I try to calm down. “Eric, you’re upset right now, understandably, but I can’t be someone’s booty call.”
“What?” he asks, dumbfounded with a parted mouth.
“You’re kissing someone who cuts and is pregnant with another man’s baby. Does that not bother you? Your mom has cancer. Maybe you’re throwing yourself into this because you’re devastated. I understand, but I have too much to worry about to be someone’s late night call. I have a lot to figure out—”
He slams his mouth against mine again, shutting me up, and when I try to speak again, he doesn’t let me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth, and all of my efforts to stop this vanish.
Eric’s hands slap my ass and then squeeze the round globes. “You think I want to share you? You think you’re some quick lay?” he growls and pushes me forward on his cock again. “You think I’m casting my emotions on you? Let me tell you something—I’ve been denying you far longer than I’ve known about my mother’s health. I’m giving in because I want you.”
“Eric—”
“I want you without question, without hesitancy, without fault. You’re pregnant, and I’m here for you. I want to be here. You aren’t a burden, Jo. You aren’t a burden to me. You’re… Fuck, Jo, you’re what I’ve been needing. So kiss me if you want, be here with me if you want, love me if you want, because I’ll do whatever you want. The pace, it’s all on you. You’re in control. I’ve waited on you since you got here, Jo-love. I can wait until you realize I’m in this for the long haul. You’re ol’ lady material, and I plan to give you my property patch. Only if you want and only when you’re ready.” His words are warm, giving me hope and reassurance, and he ends his speech with a long, passionate kiss.
“Ol’ lady?” I ask, trying to not get excited. I’ve seen Sarah and the other women wearin
g their property patches, and I never thought it would happen for me.
“Yeah, I don’t think you hear it enough, but you’re worth it, babe. You hear me? You’re worth it.” He grabs my arm and kisses from the crease of my elbow, down my bandages, and over the wounds that almost killed me. “I’ll show you your life is more than worth it because it is to me.”
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?” he asks, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear, and even the quick brush of his skin against mine gives me chills.
“Of you loving me and breaking me,” I admit.
“Ah, Jo, the only thing I want to do is be your glue, your sutures.” He lays a palm over my racing heart and hums happily when he feels the beat. “I want to be the person who keeps your pieces together.”
I sniffle as I hold back happy tears. “You’re my stitches?”
“Just as you’re mine.” He lays his head on my chest and sighs, his hands laying on each ass cheek still, as if he’s afraid to let go. “You’re relief that I haven’t felt in a long time, Jo. Letting you go isn’t an option.” He pulls back to look at me. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to let you go? It’s your pace, Jo. I mean it. I’ll do what you want.”
“I want you, but I want you to remember to be patient with me because I won’t be perfect. I’m not okay, Eric. I’m far from it.”
“I know that. Perfect is overrated anyway. Life is hard, fucked up, and dirty. If you don’t come out of it with a little blood on your hands, then life hasn’t challenged you yet. Jo, I’m here for it all. Every damn horrible nightmare and daydream.”
“Why me?” I ask him, needing to know what he sees in me. He could have easily had one of the other girls. Eric is the kind of guy who can have any girl he wants at any time. I’m some girl rescued from a filthy basement.
“I can’t explain it, really. It’s more of a feeling. It sounds cheesy, but whenever you are around, my soul recognizes yours. One thing brings us together more than anything, and our bodies notice.” He takes my hand, closes his eyes, and blows a breath out through his lips. Eric lays my hand on his upper shoulder, under his shirt.