by Colbie Kay
All too soon, she is screaming and thrashing through a nightmare, and I’m here, running to her side. Sitting on the bed, I pull her onto my lap and soothe her back to sleep.
10
Haven
WEEK ONE
Five minutes. That’s all I have to do. They make it seem like it’s the easiest thing in the world, but to me, five minutes was all it took for Chapel and me to get taken. I place my hand on the doorknob. I can do this. I can be brave. My hand begins to shake, and my breathing changes. This is so different than leaving to go to the bathroom or to shower. I can do that. This isn’t the same. It’s as if I can’t catch my breath, can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. I stumble to my bed and land on my mattress. I can’t do it.
WEEK TWO
I woke up early today, and while I’m rushing to the bathroom, I listen for any commotion from downstairs. I don’t hear anything. Maybe everyone is still sleeping? After I get done in the bathroom, I stop in the hallway right before the staircase. Taking a deep breath, I release it and tiptoe down each step, attempting to be as quiet as a mouse, so I’m not heard. Maybe I can do this. This week was supposed to be ten minutes, but since I couldn’t accomplish five minutes last week, this week, I’m doing five again.
It’s dark down here, but I slowly find my way to the front door and gather the courage to open it. I stand right outside the door, staring out into the darkness. No wonder no one is awake.
“What’cha doin’ out here, Darlin’?” I startle hearing a voice, and I’m ready to run, but I quickly calm once I realize it’s Storm. A cloud of smoke filters from his lips.
“My homework from Kayla.”
He shuffles closer to my side. “She gave you homework?”
“Yes. I have to leave my room every day.”
“For how long?”
“Last week was five minutes, but I couldn’t do it, so this week is five minutes. Next week is ten if I can accomplish my goal this week. I’ll add five minutes each week I manage to meet my goal.” My eyes drift up to the moon. It’s not the bright white color I’ve seen before. This moon has orange, red, and a hint of pink. “It’s beautiful.”
“What is?”
“The moon.”
Storm throws his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. His lips press against the crown of my head. “I’m proud of you, Darlin’?”
My gaze shoots up to his. “Proud of me? For what?” His words make my heart race, and I feel like I’m going to explode with happiness. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard those words when their meaning was something good. I heard them from him after those parties, but those parties were filled with sick, disgusting people. Nothing good came from him.
“You’re trying. I wasn’t sure you would, but this is really fuckin’ good, Haven.” A smile lights up my face. His eyes search mine in the beautiful moonlight. I wish he would kiss me. His head moves an inch closer, or maybe I just thought it did, but Storm clears his throat and takes another puff from his cigarette before throwing it onto the ground. “You should go back to bed.”
A feeling of sadness forms in my belly. I quietly reply, “The sun will be coming up soon.” It’s been so tense between us lately, but I miss these moments with him. These moments used to happen a lot in my old room with Chapel. She would be in the shower, and we would sit on my bed where Storm would try to teach me something. There was no tension, no anger between us.
“Yeah, it will.” His arm drops from my shoulder, and I instantly feel cold. Without another word, I leave him alone and scurry back to my room.
WEEK THREE
Hearing Storm tell me that he was proud of me last week has given me the courage to keep going with my homework. I feel the panic setting in and the shakiness in my body, but I try to meditate and breathe like Kayla taught me, and with each step I take, I remind myself that I am safe. Instead of going outside this time, I decide that since no one is up yet, I’ll explore downstairs. Finding the light switch in the bar, I flip it on and walk around the room until I come to a wall covered in pictures of men. “Homework again?”
My head snaps in the direction of Storm’s voice. “Do you ever sleep?” I ask, gazing at him leaning against the wall, his arms and feet crossed.
“Not much.” He comes to stand beside me. “All of these pictures are of brothers we’ve lost.”
“Lost?”
“Some are in prison. Most are dead.”
My eyes widen slightly. “Oh.” We’re both quiet as I look over each photo. “Your life here with the club, it’s dangerous?”
“Can be.”
“Why are you here, then? Wouldn’t you want to stay safe and not be in danger?”
He points to one picture on the top row. “That was my grandfather.” He points to another. “That was my uncle.” Another. “That was my father.” And the last one. “That’s my brother.”
“All of them were your family? Why would you want the same for yourself after what’s happened to them? I don’t understand.”
“Because this life and being a Cobra runs through my veins. It’s in my blood. It’s what I know. This club is my family and not for you to understand, Darlin’.”
“But what if something—”
He cuts me off, “Shh.” His arm wraps around my neck as he pulls me into his chest, my back to his front. I raise my hands to hold onto his arm. “Nothing is going to happen to me. Go back to bed.” He releases me. Stepping away, I turn to gaze at him once more. His arms are crossed once more as he stands there staring at those pictures.
WEEK FOUR
I think the medications Kayla gave me are starting to work. I’m on week four, and I don’t feel as anxious about leaving my room. I wait outside, knowing Storm will be joining me shortly. My smile is beaming when he walks out the door and lights his cigarette.
WEEK FIVE
We meet outside again.
WEEK SIX
Storm is already outside by the time I get out here. “You have twenty-five minutes today?”
“Yes, but it can be longer if I feel comfortable enough.”
“C’mon then.”
I follow Storm until we’re at his bike, and my brows knit in curiosity. “Where are we going?”
“For a ride.” He helps me get the helmet situated before assisting me onto the back of his bike. Once I’m straddling it, he climbs on in front of me.
Snaking my arms around his waist, I hold tight. We ride through the quiet streets of the city. For the first time since I was a little girl, I feel good and, dare I say, happy. I have always felt safe with Storm, but there’s something about this moment. It’s only us riding free, and it’s as if I don’t have a care in the world. I don’t feel like the woman who is terrified of everyone and everything. I don’t feel like the woman who was taken away from her family. I’m just me, Haven Benning, and it feels amazing.
11
Haven
I sit down on Kayla’s couch, and she jumps right into our session. “How was your week, Haven?”
“It was good. The medicine is helping. I’m over the three-month mark and staying out of my room for an hour a day.” I bite my lip to try and contain my smile as I remember all the time Storm and I have spent together without any fights or arguments.
“Why do you think the medicine is working?”
“Because I don’t feel as anxious or get as many panic attacks. I feel calmer. It’s like I’m not overwhelmed and can finally control some of what I feel. My emotions aren’t controlling me as much, and I don’t feel like I’m drowning or trapped without a way out. I can breathe. It makes it easier to leave my room.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I think the medicine is definitely helping you along with your determination.”
“I’ve started to feel free for the first time in a long time.”
“Didn’t you feel free once you came to the club?”
“Yes, but I still felt like at any moment I could be taken by someone, anyone, again.
I didn’t feel that same fear while standing in the bar with Storm or outside with him or even riding on his motorcycle.”
“Storm has been with you every day?”
Her question makes me feel defensive. “Yes. I did it on my own, though, like you told me to do. He would join me, but I did it on my own.”
She smiles in that calming and kind way she has. “It’s okay, Haven. I was just asking.”
“He said he was proud of me.” I let my grin show because I feel proud of myself—it isn’t only Storm’s pride in me.
“Did you like hearing that?”
I nod, glancing at the clock. That hour went by so quickly!
“Now that you’re staying out of your room for an hour a day, I have some new homework for you. I want you to start making one of your meals this week. This will give you a little more independence. Have Storm or someone else teach you how to cook for yourself. Add an additional meal each week until you’re able to completely cook for yourself. Just like we did with time out of your room, take it step by step, and don’t worry if you can’t do it. When you are ready, you can add additional meals.”
I stand from the couch, and before I walk toward the door, I reply, “Okay. I’ll see you next week.”
“Have a good week, Haven.” Kayla shuts her door once I’m in the hallway with Storm.
12
Storm
I hold the door of the building open for Haven. “How was therapy?” I ask, putting on my sunglasses.
“It was good. I have new homework.”
“Oh yeah?” I light up a cigarette while sauntering to my bike. “What’s your new homework?”
“I have to start learning how to cook my own food.” She straddles my Harley and looks at me. Those doe eyes of hers stare into my soul—I fuckin’ swear they do. “Can you teach me how to cook?”
I chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “Eggs, bacon, and toast are my specialty, but we’ll figure it out.”
Her brow furrows as if she’s confused. “But you always bring me other food too.”
I climb on the front of my bike. “All that shit’s cooked by the girls around the club.” My bike purrs loudly, and I yell over the rumbling, “I’ll come get you when it’s time for dinner. I’ll tell everyone else to get the fuck out, so it’ll be just us downstairs.”
She shouts, “Okay.” Her arms wrap tightly around my waist.
“This is the kitchen. Fridge over there. Stove over there. Pantry is behind that door.” I show her where everything is and add, “I talked to Victoria, Snake’s Ol’ Lady, the one who gave you all the clothes, and she told me how to make chicken strips. It sounds easy. I guess we’ll start there. We need eggs, flour, seasoning, and chicken breasts. I’ll turn on the fryer.”
I grab the eggs and chicken from the fridge and set them on the island before turning on the fryer. While I do all that, Haven finds the seasonings we need and gets the flour out of the pantry along with some bowls.
“Alright, she said we have to put eggs in one bowl and flour in the other. Then we’ll season the flour and mix it up.” We get it all set up. “Now, we cut the chicken into long strips.” Grabbing two knives, I hand her one. “Be careful and watch your fingers.” I use the other, and we begin cutting a few breasts. “She said to put the strips into the egg, then the flour, and repeat that once more before putting them in the fryer.”
Haven moves to my other side. “I’ll do the flour. Dipping my fingers in those eggs seems kind of gross.” I glance at her out of my peripheral vision. Her body shivers as if she’s disgusted, and a grin plays on my lips. “What’s so funny?”
I use a fork to coat the strips in the egg. “Nothing.” I chuckle and shake my head as I move a few egg-dipped strips over to her bowl of flour.
“Nothing,” she echoes, mocking me.
Suddenly a handful of flour hits the side of my face. My mouth drops open, and my eyes widen as I spin toward her. “The fuck?” I let the fork fall into the bowl of eggs.
“Oops.” Haven sheepishly smiles.
“Oops?” I cock my brow and reach for her bowl. I get a nice big handful of flour and throw it at her.
She gasps but quickly bursts into a fit of laughter. It’s so fuckin’ beautiful to hear. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her laugh like that. However, I’m ambushed again with more flour.
My eyes narrow, watching as she backs away slowly as if she’s realized her mistake. “Don’t fuckin’ run now, Darlin’. This is war!”
I grab the bowl of flour, and she runs around the island. The chase is on! I move one way; she moves the opposite. She makes the mistake of reaching for the bag of flour. Making use of the opening, I quickly step behind her and dump the bowl over her head. She whirls around, her back trapped against the counter. I set the bowl down and lay my hands on either side of the counter, caging her in.
Leaning in closer, I grin and gloat. “You lose.” She blows out a breath, trying to remove the flour from her face, and it blows into mine. Her glare finds my gleeful expression, and I’m stuck in a trance.
A slow smile forms on her face while her eyes shine brightly with happiness. All too quickly, though, my own smile vanishes, and I swallow hard as her lips begin to fall. I don’t know what comes over me, but I reach for her, picking her up to place her on the island. As her hands raise to my floured cheeks, I notice her chest is moving quickly with every heavy breath she takes. The beat matches the speed at which my heart is pounding.
I can’t fuckin’ stop myself. Whatever this pull is, it’s too strong for me to resist. My fingers grip her hips tightly, I drag her forward, and she doesn’t resist. Her legs wrap around my waist. The counter is the perfect height for my hard cock to press against her pussy. Reaching up, I fist her hair and bring her lips closer. Her mouth crashes into mine, setting us drifting into the unknown. Running my tongue along the seam of her lips, I taste the seasoned flour, but it’s quickly replaced by the taste of her as my tongue dances with hers. Oh, fuck! Her other arm flies around my neck to cling to me. Unable to stop, my hands drift under her shirt while she pushes my cut down my arms at the same time.
“Oh, shit! I’m sorry.”
The sound of Ace’s voice cuts through this invisible cage, and I snap back to reality. “Fuck!” I stumble backward until I hit the counter. “What the fuck did I do?”
“Storm?” Haven’s eyes glisten as if tears are forming.
I can’t say anything to her. I race out of the kitchen and into the bar, where I see Ace, but I don’t stop…I can’t. My footfalls grow louder as I race through the bar, my feet moving faster and faster.
“Storm, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” he yells after me, but I’m running now and not paying any attention to him.
I sprint until I reach my bike and quickly get her started, speeding out of the compound and throwing gravel in my wake.
After a while, I find myself banging on Nyx and Kayla’s front door. “Storm?” Nyx answers, surprised to see me.
“Where’s your Ol’ Lady?” I growl, still angry with myself for losing control with Haven.
He opens the door wider, allowing me to enter. “She’s putting the baby to sleep. C’mon.”
Following him to their kitchen, I stand there as he reaches into their fridge and grabs a couple beers. Nyx slides one across the granite countertop. Catching it, I open the can and take a long pull. “What you want with Kayla?”
“What about me?” Kayla asks as she joins us in the kitchen. Her eyes widen for a moment when she sees me. “What are you doing here, Storm?”
I run my hand over my beard. “Gotta know what the fuck you’re doing with Haven.”
She gets her own beer out of the fridge. “What do you mean?”
“I asked you to listen to her talk. Let her tell you all about her shit because I couldn’t fuckin’ handle hearing the shit she’s fuckin’ been through.”
Kayla shrugs her shoulder. “I’m doing what you asked.”
“No.” I l
augh without mirth and point my finger at her. “You’re changing her. You got her doing all this fuckin’ homework and trying to cook and got her coming out of her room. Why?”
She laughs lightly. “I’m doing my job, Storm. You don’t fucking like it because she isn’t going to need you when I’m done with her. You’re scared, but that’s not my problem. My job is to help Haven grow into an independent young woman, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
I rush toward her, but Nyx steps between us. “It’s time to go, Brother.”
My glare stays glued on Kayla. “You don’t know shit.” Nyx takes my arm and starts leading me out of their house.
Kayla yells after us, “Why has it taken this long for her to get help? Why have you let her remain stuck in that room for so fucking long, Storm? Why didn’t you let her leave a long time ago? Why are you here now so concerned and threatened with her progress?”
Nyx closes the door behind us. “Thanks, Brother, now I gotta deal with a pissed off wife all night long.”