She forgot, for a moment, that Brooklyn was there, and she couldn’t wait to talk to her and make sure she was still okay. The last time she saw her, she was passed out on the couch after pretty much crying herself to sleep.
Stormy carefully crawled out of bed, trying not to wake Ryder, and tiptoed down the hall where she expected to see Brooklyn passed out on the couch. She decided not to wake her quite yet. She needed as much sleep as she could get.
“What are you doing up so early?” Ryder asked as he walked down the hall. His voice was groggy, and he was evidently a little hung over. He was in nothing but a pair of red plaid boxers.
“Good morning,” Stormy cooed as she slipped her arms around his waist. “How you feeling?”
He shook his head no and buried it on her shoulder as he moaned in pain. “My head is pounding.”
“Go and sit down,” Stormy said. “I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Where’s Brooklyn?” he asked as he noticed her snoring away on the couch. “Oh.”
“Rough night,” Stormy said. “Shh.”
Ryder shook his head and buried it in the palms of his hands. “Definitely.”
“Where do you keep the ibuprofen?” Stormy asked as she opened cupboard after cupboard. “Never mind. Found it.”
She poured him a glass of water and gave him a few pills and got down to business making breakfast.
“The smell ought to lure them out of there,” she said. “Who can resist the smell of bacon frying in a pan?”
Ryder laid curled into a ball on the love seat while Stormy made breakfast and sure enough, Brooklyn came to after a little bit.
“Look who’s up,” Stormy said. “Sleep okay last night?”
Brooklyn shot her a dirty look as she climbed up onto the bar stool and sat with her head in her hands.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” Stormy disclaimed.
Brooklyn shrugged and groaned.
She plated the food and gave everyone their plate and a small glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. They all sat in silence as they scarfed down the greasy breakfast and washed it down with the sweet, sugary orange juice.
“What’s the plan today?” Stormy asked. Seeing how she was the only non-hung over person out of the three of them, she didn’t have a lot of expectations.
“I really want to go back to Coleville,” Brooklyn whined. “I don’t think I can stay here another day.”
Stormy’s face fell. She felt horrible that Brooklyn wanted to leave right away.
“You just got here yesterday,” she said.
“Too much excitement for one day,” Brooklyn said. “I can’t stay here anymore.”
“I’ll call the airline and see if we can get you on a flight out of here today,” Ryder offered.
“Are you sure you have to leave?” Stormy pleaded. “You won’t let us make it up to you?”
“I don’t feel safe here,” she said.
“I don’t blame you,” Ryder said. “I mean, you are safe, but if you’re not used to this lifestyle, I can see how you’d feel that way. I’ll make a call here shortly.”
Ryder took his dish to the sink, rinsed, it and put it in the dishwasher before heading back down to his bedroom and shutting the door.
Stormy walked over to the living room, pulled the curtains back on the giant windows and stepped outside to the balcony where she looked down on the bustling traffic below. The sun warmed her face as the breeze blew the leaves on the plants in the planters around her. She felt a sense of peace knowing that Jett’s killer had been brought to justice. She could only imagine what the men had done to him the night before. Knowing how the big city MCs operate, she was sure he’d been tortured, killed, and left out in a desert to rot somewhere.
She was beginning to make her mind up about living out there and trying to make things work with Ryder. She’d had a million reservations, but after just one week, it was beginning to feel like home to her already. She wasn’t quite ready to be on her own yet, but she knew she’d get there eventually. And she could tell Ryder liked her a lot. She felt safe and protected with him. He reminded her so much of Jett.
“Hey,” she heard a man’s voice say behind her as the door slid open. It was Ryder.
“Oh, hi,” she said. She was happy to see him. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, you, us, living out here,” she said. “Everything.”
“And?”
“I think it’s worth a fair chance,” she said. “As long as you promise to get out of the MC gang.”
“I’m working on it,” he said. “Believe me. It’s not something that can happen overnight. Could take years.”