5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Bear
M y good mood dissipates in an instant.
“Repeat that address.” I’m aware that my tone is no longer gentle teddy bear and teetering on this side of grizzly, but I haven’t heard those words in years and the last time someone said them, my entire life was upended and destroyed. So yeah… I’m gonna need her to repeat it.
“Um…” Her eyes glaze over and the perfect bow of her pink lips move like they’re on autopilot, over and over again with no sound.
“Hey, I need you to please repeat that address.” Lowering my voice, I speak in a more soothing, less lethal tone, because I know people like this beauty in front of me. In fact, I grew up with them in my house being taken care of by my mother for years until…
“3020 Remington Road, Rockford Beach. 3020 Remington Road, Rockford Beach. 3020 Remington Road, Rockford Beach.” Three times, she repeats the address like she’s been memorizing it her entire life. Hell, maybe she has, the fuck do I know?
Except, I do, don’t I? I know what she’s doing as she mentally retreats from the present and hangs on to the only lifeline she has left. The way her mind and body go into survival mode all the while trying to pretend she’s—as she keeps saying—fine. All the signs are there but I can’t be the bull to her china, I need to be careful. Mamma always said: “Remember, son, trauma is as unique as the people surviving it. Don’t judge and don’t assume you know anything.”
“Okay, Baby Girl. We’re all good, yeah?” I don’t touch her, don’t even try, just hold my hands up in surrender while she slowly comes back to the present. “Wanna put that on and I’ll take you to that address? Is that okay?” Blinking, she’s back again with clear eyes and lips pressed into a straight line.
When she turns so she’s parallel with the bike, I realize her skin tone is not just white, it’s almost translucent, like she’s never exposed it to the sun before. Thankfully, she has her green sweatshirt on and those leggings will protect her from the sun, but the chill we’re feeling now will turn to ice picks once we’re riding the bike. My only hope is that the sheer size of me will protect her enough that she won’t turn into a popsicle.
Although, I wouldn’t mind licking her up and down and tasting every crook and curve of her.
Okay, none of that. Not here, not now.
“Hey, Mac, you mind if we borrow your leathers?” Not even a half a second after I call out to Mac, Psycho is in my face, growling.
“Dude, I love you and shit, but no. No fucking way my wife is riding without protection.” Just as he’s going all over-protective for a woman who can clearly take care of herself, I see our tow truck inch closer and a prospect cut hanging out the driver’s side.
“Take mine and bring it back after you drop her off.” I grin at Kinkaid and remember why I think she’s the fucking best one of us all.
“Thanks, Prospect, you just earned some serious brownie points.” Psycho snatches the cut and hands it to me with a feral grin making his tattoos move like an omen. “There you go, brother. Never problems, only solutions.”
Kinkaid chuckles as they drive away and I’ve got the uncontrollable urge to punch my best friend for being an asshole.
With a grin, I rear back and connect my fist to the ball of his shoulder. “Thanks, brother . Always the helpful one.”
“Ow, motherfucker. That’s cheating. Your fist is the size of my ass cheek.” This guy…
“Good thing you’re not my type, then.” I get a strange feeling of satisfaction at his groan then turn to see if my girl… this girl… needs my help.
Her helmet is on but she’s having a hard time clasping the chin strap, her fingers never quite hitting the mark.
“Want some help?” Again, I don’t touch her and always, always, seek out her consent.
“I just… I don’t know how it works.” Her green eyes latch on to mine, and for a second, we don’t speak. We don’t even move. The moment feels important, like we’re telling each other every one of our secrets even though neither one of us is talking.
“All right. I’m just gonna take my girl home while the both of you do that… whatever that is you’re doing right now. FYI, it’s creepy.”
I don’t even bother responding to Psycho. As if he’s never done weird shit in the name of love.
This guy practically won an Oscar for his stalking skills and he’s giving me shit? Fucking rich.
“Here,” I say, softly, so I don’t spook her. “Let me?” This time, it’s a question and that tiny nod she gives me feels like the greatest of victories. No matter how much I want to touch her, to brush my fingers up against what I imagine is skin like silk, I don’t. I fight the urge like I’m fighting an instinct to breathe.
It only takes me a couple of moves to have her secured in the brand new helmet we keep around the garage just in case .
“I’ve never been on a bike. Won’t I fall?” From the dark secrets hidden behind her deep greens, I can see her fear is real, almost childlike, yet I’m damn sure she’s closer to my age than Mac’s.
“Nah, I’ll be careful. You can either hold on to me or…” I point out the small handle at the back of my bike she can latch on to. “I won’t go fast, I promise, Baby Girl.”
Psycho revs his bike just as he lets Mac pass us by then follows her out on a wheelie. I chuckle then frown when I notice Amy’s mouth drop open.
Then her head starts shaking and her legs back her away from the bike and from me.
“Amy.” I don’t use a domineering voice the way Psycho has perfected, that’s just not me. Instead, I speak as softly as I can but loud enough for her to hear me. “I don’t do that. I don’t know how and honestly, it ain’t something I want to learn. I promise, you’re safe with me.”
At my words, her head snaps back to me. The hesitation is written all over her face, from the slanted brows to the way her teeth are nibbling on her bottom lip. I think she wants to trust, but fear, probably deep-set trauma, is keeping her feet safe on the ground.
“Okay.” My sigh of relief at the sound of her one word is audible.
“Okay?” I repeat, checking to make sure I didn’t hear her wrong.
“Yes. Okay. But… just keep your promise, okay?”
Fuck me. I’ll keep all the things she wants me to keep, but I’m pretty sure my heart won’t be one of them.
After a short bike-riding 101 course, we set off to the address that no longer exists.
Just as she hikes herself up on what I’m guessing is a seriously uncomfortable back seat, I settle down and take a deep breath. This is the first time I’ve ever had a woman… or anyone, really, on my bike beside myself.
The idea that this complete stranger is the first person to ride behind me is kind of freaking me out. That being said, nothing good will come out of me losing my shit when I’ve got a woman behind me about to ride a motorcycle for the first time in her life.
It’s all good. We got this.
Turning to speak over my shoulder, I wait before I pull my helmet on. “If you want to protect yourself from the cold, you can press up against me. I’ll shield you.”
And that’s what I do as I rev the engine and take off without jolting her, making sure to ride at a reasonable speed so she doesn’t piss herself from fear.
The longer we ride, the more comfortable she seems. Ten minutes in, her arms are like vices around my torso, even though she can’t fully wrap them around me. Her legs are tucked in behind me and her head is resting against my back.
Why the fuck does it feel so good to have her there? The physicality of it is hot as fuck, but the intimacy of knowing she’s put her life in my hands is giving me some pretty clear feelings all of a sudden.
I’m a protector. This need to shield the ones I love is stronger than anything else in my life and right now, the urge to keep this woman under my wing is overwhelming.
I don’t know her and yet… I’ve known so many like her.
The whole ride, I try to figure out what exactly her reaction will be when she finds a big old pile of nothing sitting where my mother’s old home used to be.
Being a man of my word, I ride as slowly as I possibly can without actually putting us in danger, which means we get to our destination a lot later than it would take me in normal circumstances.
Rockford Beach refused to have anything built here and instead turned the lot into a small park, with benches on the outside perimeter and bushes and trees inside. Mostly mothers come here with their children after school and on weekends. People chat and hang out and it’s exactly what my mama would have wanted. A safe space for mothers.
“Why did we stop?” Her voice is muted from the helmet since she still hasn’t flipped open the visor.
“3020 Remington Road. This is it.” The guilt and sorrow is clear in my voice, I’m used to it. Every time I think of my mama and the way she and all of those women lost their lives, it breaks a little piece of my soul.
But this isn’t about me. This is about Amy and her need for… something. Closure? Protection? A life?
“But all I see is a park. That can’t be right.” With a fortifying breath, I flick open the visor and look over my shoulder, wondering for a brief instant how my life got so complicated so fast.
“Baby Girl, that place burned over ten years ago.” When I take my helmet off to make sure she can hear me properly, I catch sight of her shaking head. With the weight of the helmet it looks like she’s bobbing her head out in the ocean, fighting the current that wants to drown her.
“No. No, no, no. That can’t be right. I’m supposed to come here. It’s supposed to be a safe space.” At her admission—I’d bet my life she didn’t mean to let that slip—my protective mode fires up and I’m all engines go.
“Do you think you could trust me for just a little while longer?” I’m using my soothing voice, but on the inside I’m begging her to let me do this for her. Because, yes, I have a safe space for her, even though it’s not the one I grew up knowing.
The green of her eyes catches the sun rays just as she swings her gaze my way and I swear to fuck, something inside me shifts. I can’t explain it. I can’t analyze it. All I can do is feel it and it’s scary as fuck.
“Okay.” It’s just a whisper, but the weight of her trust means everything.
“It’s not far from here and it’s the same type of place you’re looking for.” Without another word, this woman I’ve barely met leans just enough into me for her arms to go around my chest, telling me she’s ready to reach a destination.
It only takes us a few minutes to drive up to Maribel’s safe house, and as soon as we arrive, I feel Amy—why doesn't that name correspond to the woman?—tense all around me. It’s like we’re both experiencing some kind of separation anxiety, although I’m guessing for different reasons.
With one arm spotting her as she swings a leg off the bike, I wait for her to be standing on firm ground before I hop off myself. That’s when I show her how to unhook the chin strap and a satisfied warmth grows inside my chest when she mimics my every move. Soon enough, we’ve both got our helmets off and it almost feels like a bonding moment, which is fucking absurd, yet here we are.
“This is Maribel’s home. She has rooms available for women seeking shelter. We trust her, no questions asked.” I nod to cement my words but also to reassure her that I have no doubts about her safety here.
They were supposed to be safe at mama’s house too.
Banishing the agonizing thoughts that always seem to taunt me whenever I think of that night, I flash Amy my most dazzling smile and wink at her. “Hope you’re not afraid of being taken care of. Maribel is a force of nature with a lot of love to give.”
To my horror, Amy’s eyes fill with unshed tears, and before I can see them fall, she turns and looks at the house.
There’s nothing extraordinary about it when looking at it from the outside with its typical craftsman-style build, like so many others around here. Inside, though, it’s so much more.
Maribel turned this house into a home just by being her kind self.
And speak of the angel and she will appear.
“Brock Howell, as I live and breathe!” I grin at Maribel’s greeting and use of my full name.
“Miss Maribel, it’s good to see you.” Just as she reaches me, the tiny woman opens her arms for me to pick her up and spin her around like she weighs nothing. Because she barely does.
“I swear you keep getting taller.” I’m not, but I’m not telling her that.
“Guess they’re feeding me well at the club over there.” And that’s no lie. The way Sabrina and Darlene keep our bellies full should be illegal.
“I guess so.” Her eyes swing over to Amy and the light conversation turns suddenly heavy with concern. “And who do we have here?” I have no doubt that Maribel can sense something, maybe even recognizes herself in Amy, but she says nothing to that effect.
“She was looking for Mama’s old place.” My words are soft, meant only for Maribel, but the weight of Amy’s gaze has me looking back at her.
“Right, right. Well, you did good bringing her here.” I could kiss this woman for saying that to me. Doubt is a bitch on any day.
“You got a room for her?” As soon as the words fly out of my mouth, I hold my breath, hoping I’ll like the answer.
“Sure do. She’ll even have the choice of a couple of rooms. Got two departures yesterday, babies flying the nest and stepping out into the world.” At the mention of a free room, I get an uncomfortable pang in my chest and a wave-like pain in my stomach.
I must be hungry.
Or maybe the idea of leaving Amy here alone makes me want to sit ass naked on a bed of coals.
“Come on, young lady. Let’s get you sorted out. How about you tell me your name or whatever you want me to call you.” Maribel doesn’t touch her but her empathy is palpable.
“A-Athena.”
My head snaps to the side so quick I’m afraid it’ll rip right off my spine.
Athena ?
Goddess of… war?
Fuck me, I think I’ve just fallen a little bit in love with this mystery woman.
And by little , I do mean a lot .