Making the Cut (Son's of Templar MC)(4)

"Babe I love you, over the fucking moon you're finally awake. How about I  take your brother for a beer while you get pampered by the cashmere  mafia?" He decided. I smiled at him knowing he had clocked my brother's  anger as soon as he walked in the room. I knew he was trying hard to  restrain his own fury, which was hiding behind his forced smile.

"Thanks Alex." I glanced at my brother, who was studying me with a frown on his face.

"I'll be fine Ian, get away from this place for a bit." I told him firmly.

He looked conflicted, but sighed. "We'll see you soon." Ian promised, kissing me on the head leaving with Alex.

Ryan and Amy were fussing with my pillows, arguing over which PJ set  would be less scratchy on my skin. At that moment, I knew, even though  something terrible has happened to me, and I was a long way to being  healed, I was going to be fine because of the people I love, the people  who would do anything for me and would always be there, every step of  the way.



One Year Later

I took one last glance at my city in my rear vision mirror. The place I  had dreamed about while sitting in a small town at the edge of the  world. The city where my life had changed so much, where I had changed  so much. I was a stronger person now. It took me six months to fully  heal after my attack, I had gone to some really dark places and even now  I was still plagued with nightmares but I was determined not to let my  life be consumed by this, not to live with label of ‘victim'. I had to  leave New York, I had to leave my memories behind and have a fresh  start. And boy was I starting over. Amy had tried talking me out of  opening a boutique clothing store in Amber, California, but as soon as I  saw it, while passing through on a buying trip, I fell in love. It was  the classic small American town, a main street with everything in one  place, from the grocery store to the barber. A town where everybody  knows everybody, and that gave me a strange sort of comfort, reminding  me of home. It also had a beach, but it was relatively undiscovered on  the tourist trail, people preferring Malibu and Santa Monica a few hours  away.                       
       
           



       

I thought back to when Ian had persuaded me to tell me parents about my attack.

"I love you so much kid, and I'll always be here for you and respect  your decisions, but you need to tell Mum and Dad about what happened,  you know you do, I know it will be hard but you gotta do it."

Like always, I listened to my brother's advice, and rang my parents.

After a long, and tearful, (on both sides) conversation, my parents took  the first flight over, helping me recover, both physically and  mentally. And after finding my little town, I immediately rang them and  told them about my desire to move there and open my own store. Hearing  the passion and happiness in my voice, things which had been absent for a  while, my parents gave me the money to buy the store and move to Amber.  My family was wealthy, but my brother and I were always brought up to  work hard for what we wanted and I was grateful for that. We got a  portion of our trust fund when we turned eighteen, and I used mine to  move to the States and get myself an apartment on the Upper East Side,  my ultimate dream after watching ‘Gossip Girl', shallow I know but I was  young and had my dreams. After working my way up to Senior Buyer  position, I earned decent money, not to mention I still had a hefty  portion of my trust fund. But my parents were adamant to help me out. I  guess since they had no control over my nightmares, my recovery or my  scars, they wanted to help me get something that might get me back to my  old self. Of course, after Amy found out about my plans, even though  she was a Manhattanite through and through, and her family was a lot  wealthier than mine, she decided that she wasn't letting me go alone.

"You're not going to the other side of the country to fuck knows where  and opening up a shop without your best girl helping you out." She had  said once I told her about the space I brought. So that brought me back  to now, taking the long drive across country to my new home, and my new  life.





Chapter 2

I arrived in Amber, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing I had made the  right decision. I had taken a week to do the 44 hour drive. I had done  all the necessities when on a road trip, listened to power ballads,  singing along at the top of my lungs, stopping at random sights along  the way, and enjoyed the solitude. I drove past where my store would be  and a smile lit up my face, nestled between a cute little coffee shop  and a bookstore, it was perfect. The three loves of my life within a  stones throw of each other, coffee, fashion and books. It sent a thrill  through me to see my little sign with the word ‘Phoenix' scrawled across  it.

I continued to mine and Amy's new home, she had decided that she would  fly the next day. She had told me she wasn't spending days driving the  country when she could "drink champagne and read Vogue on her fathers  jet". Yeah they were loaded. Amy had picked our house, and after a huge  argument, I brought it, but only if she was in charge of decorating and  the expenses that went with it. So after spending the last few weeks on  the phone with decorators and closing her computer screen every time I  walked past, I was itching to see it.



I pulled up the driveway and took a moment to take in our beautiful new  house. On the end of a sleepy little street, slightly separated from the  rest of the houses, was a beautiful little restored Victorian. It was  three stories high, with dove grey weatherboard. A stone path led up  some steps to the second story, which had a huge porch wrapping around  it. Another path led to French doors with housed bottom story basement.  The third story had a huge balcony jutting over the porch, more French  doors opening to that. That was my room, Amy's was at the back, her  balcony jutting onto the back yard and pool. I had to toss up between  this and a smaller house by the sea, this one appealed to me more. I  jumped out of my car and gave an excited little squeal. I glanced  around, glad I was alone, the last thing I wanted was my neighbors  thinking I was a crazy person. I decided to forgo unpacking for now,  itching to see the house.

My heels clicked on the stones of our walkway. Even the porch was  amazing. A beautiful porch swing that looked like it could double as a  bed was on my left, a wicker table and chairs to my right. When I got  inside I looked around and my breath left me. The walls were white the  floors a beautiful polished wood. A white table with a huge vase full of  pink orchids sat in front of me. Slightly to the right was the  staircase, ahead of me, the doors to the dining room and the kitchen. I  continued into the house on unsteady feet, into the beautiful living  room with cozy white couches and chairs are centered around a coffee  table. Patterned throws and pillows added a touch of class and vibrancy.  The coffee table was stunning, it looked like a giant silver serving  platter with dark wooden legs. A fresh vase of flowers and some candles  sat atop it. A white glass cabinet sat in the corner, a mish mash of  photo frames, books and bowls inside. Framed artwork surrounded the  walls, in simple white frames, I knew by looking at them they were by  some seriously famous artists.                       
       
           



       

I wandered around the rest of the house in a sort of dream, barely  taking in the beautiful black marble kitchen, or the magnificent dining  room. I climbed the stairs and opened the door to my room. It was my  dream room. A huge, four-poster vintage bed sat in the middle of the  room with a white frame and delicate designs spinning around the legs. I  ran my hand along the carved wood. Two white side tables sat on either  side with glass lamps sitting on top. I spied a beautiful old dressing  table in the corner with an array of perfume bottles and vintage  hairbrushes artfully displayed on it. I walked over and sat on the  stool, running my fingers of the brushes and smiled at the family photo  sitting in a silver frame beside the brushes. It was one of my  favorites. Taken just before I left for New York and when Ian had been  home.

We were in the garden of our childhood home, Mum and Dad had their arms  around each other, Mum pressing a kiss to Dads forehead. My mother and  father were night and day. Mum had golden blonde hair, styled soft  around her face, she has always been beautiful, even in her fifties she  was stunning. She is trim, and very petite, my father looked like a  mountain man compared to her. His dark scruffy hair was peppered with  silver, smile lines at the corner of his face only made him more  handsome, in a rugged type of way. He is tall and even approaching sixty  in good shape. A twenty year old me was tucked into my father's side,  laughing at something, my head thrown back my long brown hair flying  behind me. Ian was beside my mother, his arm around her waist grinning  over at me. Him, with his military buzz cut and strong jaw was an  imprint of my father, the same hazel eyes, dark hair and cheeky smile.  Our family had always been close, I knew how lucky I was to come from  such a great home.