Needing Me, Wanting You(11)

I take the turn near the beach and go right, heading towards the major highway. I figure if I take this route, ain't nobody going to be able to sneak up on my ass. Besides, it doesn't matter what direction I'm heading or where my final destination is, the wind can still kiss my sunburnt face. The sun can still greet me with bright eyes and a smile. And my bike will still feel like Heaven incarnate.

I take a slow, lazy tour of the town. Granted, there ain't much to see off the main road. Just houses, houses, houses. I don't regret my ride though. Haven't ever regretted a ride. Especially not the one that lead me to Triple M. I used to think of them in a completely different light. I bought into the shit, drank the Kool-Aid, and all that. I was Sergeant at arms for my previous MC. It was my job to keep the guys in line, make sure they followed the rules. If somebody had asked me ten years ago if I'd retire my patch and join a troupe of bank robbing outcasts, I'd have laughed in their faces. Yet, here I am. Baking in the Southern sun and wishing like hell for some of my grandma's catfish. Strange, ain't it? You can take the man out of the South, but you can't take the South out of the man.

I continue to the edge of town, where the exit meets the main road, and then I circle back. I make sure to take my time, to troll the road that meets the beach, to trace the small side roads that pepper the city. No matter where we're at, I do my best to get a lay of the land. Gaine and Austin seem to be operating under some belief that I am a freak of nature, unbeatable, invincible, capable of taking down any enemy. But that ain't true. I'm just a paranoid man with experience, a man who still has the will to keep trying.

I circle the town a few times, repeating every street on my route at least twice. If shit does go down, which it always does, I gotta make sure I'm prepared for it. Ain't nobody else going to be. They've all got other things to worry about. I won't lie either; I like defending my family. Get a huge kick out of that shit.

“And what the hell have we got here?” I ask myself as I pause on a small side street, killing my engine and taking note of the white and blue patches that are approaching on the highway. What the fuck is this?





Tease

Chapter 5

I wake up the next morning with a start.

My heart is pounding again, drawing out a rhythm in my chest that I've never heard before, a song that's never been played. I place my hand against the bare skin above my breasts, listening to the thump, thump, thump of my heart. I had that dream again, the one where I was soaring above the earth, swimming through the stars. At the last second, the very moment before I woke up, I saw the arm of the tree and went towards it. But I didn't make it. For the third night in a row, I didn't make it.

I push myself out of bed, letting my feet hit the cool wood floor as I take in my surroundings. I'm not at the clubhouse anymore, but at home. In the house my parents left to my brother, the place he never stays but where I've always lived. My older sister, Lizzie, used to live here, too, but not anymore. She chose to leave this life far behind, scarcely sparing a glance behind her. I both understand and despise my sister's rabid fervency. She wanted a chance to be free, to be able to expand and excel in all categories – not just where my brother said she could. And I could join her at any moment.

I run my hands down my face and yawn.

I never would leave the club. I don't know that I'm even capable of surviving without them. All I have to do is try and imagine what life I might lead. I can't even put together a fantasy that makes sense. It's not the same as when I dream about strangers. This, this is my life, and it's neither a nightmare nor a dream but something in-between.

I shake off the cobwebs of sleep and climb into the shower, rinsing away the last remnants of my dream. My mother used to tell me that dreams meant something, that they always had something to teach us. My dad never believed her, my brother either. So neither did I. Maybe that's why my dad was always disappointed in me? When there's a decision to be made or a stance to be taken, I always go the easy route. I look up to those two men, so whatever they say, I say. Once again, not something I'm proud of. It's just a fact of my life.

I stare into the mirror, using a faded towel to dry my red hair. When it's wet, it reminds me that much more of blood, making me think of my mother. That's not to say she died in an accident or anything. There wasn't even any blood that I could see – not from her or my father. They both died relatively peaceful deaths. It's just, her hair was a shade darker than everyone else's, just a shade. Staring into my eyes like this, it's almost as if I'm looking into her face again. I move my lips and listen to her voice in my head.

Everything has a purpose, Emilie. Even dreams. But nobody can interpret them for you. Only you know what's buried deep inside your own heart.