Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
THE SMELL OF fresh bread filled the kitchen as I worked the dough, kneading it with more force than necessary. My hands moved automatically, the familiar motions grounding me, but my mind wasn’t on baking.
It was on Bolt.
His words still played over and over in my head, sharp and stinging, even though I’d tried to shake them off.
The words cut deep, because I knew they were true, to a point , and I hated him for acting like it was simple. Like it was something I could’ve just... fixed. As if leaving James was a choice I hadn’t thought about a million times and hadn’t tried to do those terrifying few times.
I hated that I saw him with those two women; the jealousy had been instant, causing more of my anger than I cared to admit, but I couldn’t tell him that, no , I had been a fool and obviously wrong about our connection. Seeing and feeling things that didn’t exist because my mind needed escape that was the only answer.
I glanced up at Josie, who was working at the stove, his back to me as he tended something in a pan. The kitchen had become my safe space in the clubhouse, the place where I could escape from the loud, always crowded common room—and now Bolt. Josie had a calming presence, a way of making everything feel... normal, like the rest of the world didn’t matter. A kindred soul who escaped into the world of cooking.
But today, even the comfort of the kitchen couldn’t mute the hurt Bolt’s words had left behind. Last night I had run to my room and just cried, so hurt from his attack, an attack that seemed so personal.
“Your quiet today,” Josie said, glancing over his shoulder with a curious smile. “Everything okay?”
I didn’t answer right away, just kept kneading the dough in front of me, my fingers digging into it harder than they should’ve. Finally, I sighed, wiping my flour-covered hands on a towel before leaning back against the counter. “Not really.”
Josie’s smile faded, and he turned fully to face me, concern in his eyes. “What’s going on?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up. Talking about Bolt to Josie felt strange, like crossing some invisible line between the club brothers. But at the same time, I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. It was eating away at me and I need to talk this out. I wouldn’t say his name.
“Someone said something,” I admitted quietly, staring down at the countertop. “Something... hurtful.”
Josie’s brow furrowed, and he took a few steps closer, setting his spoon down. “What did someone say?”
I took a deep breath, the words heavy in my throat. “I was asked why I didn’t just leave since I had opportunities. That I was weak for staying with James as long as I did, and could have left anytime. That I chose to let him beat me.” My voice cracked at the end, and I hated how small I felt saying it out loud.
For a moment, Josie didn’t say anything. His expression shifted, something dark flickering behind his eyes. “Who said that?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Josie stared at me hard, his eyes probing in a way that made me fidget. “This someone doesn’t know shit.”
“It’s so hard to explain to someone what it was like, you know? He was right. I was weak, beaten down, and a coward.”
“ He? ”
“It’s not important who. It doesn’t matter and what was said is partly true. I think I’m just overly emotional.”
Josie’s jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought he would insist I tell him who ‘he’ was, but instead, he turned back to the stove, stirring the pan with a measured, steady hand. “He doesn’t get it, and had no right saying shit like that,” Josie said after a long pause, his voice quieter now. “Unless you’ve been trapped like that, it’s hard to understand.”
I watched him, waiting for him to say more, but when he didn’t, I pushed. “Have you ever dealt with something like that?”
There was a beat of silence, and then Josie turned back to me, his eyes heavy with something I could see still hurt him. “Yeah. I have.”
I blinked, surprised by the weight in his tone. “What happened?”
Josie leaned against the counter across from me, folding his arms over his chest. His expression softened, but there was still something raw beneath it. “My sister,” he said quietly. “Her husband was... a lot like James. Controlling. Abusive. We all knew it, but she didn’t leave. She didn’t feel like she could.”
My heart clenched as he spoke, and suddenly, the kitchen felt much smaller, the air between us heavy. “What happened to her?”
“She didn’t make it out,” he said, his voice thick with the pain of the memory. “She stayed with him, kept thinking she could handle it. But one night... one night he went too far.”
My breath caught in my throat, the weight of his words hitting me deep inside. “Josie, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded, but his eyes were distant, lost in the past. “I tried to get her out, but she wouldn’t go. Said she was afraid for herself and us. And then... it was too late.”
The silence between us was thick, the unspoken grief hanging in the air. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? I understood that fear, that paralyzing feeling of being trapped, but hearing Josie’s story made it feel even more real. More terrifying because I knew James was close to silencing me forever.
“That’s why those words hurt so much,” I admitted quietly. “Unless you live it, you don’t know how hard it is to leave. How much it messes with your head, the way he broke me down, isolated me and killed any self-worth I had.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Josie said, his voice low and angry. “He’s got no right to judge you for that. No one does. People think it’s easy, but it’s not. Leaving someone like that... it’s one of the hardest things a woman can do.”
I nodded, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes but refusing to let them fall. I didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of Josie. “I just... I thought I was past blaming myself. But when Bo— he said those things, it made me feel like I’m the woman James claimed, and I deserved his abuse.”
Josie reached out, gently placing a hand on my arm. “No one fucking deserves to be abused, Fiona. You got out, that’s all that matters. And that’s more than a lot of women can say.”
I looked up at him, grateful for the steady, calming presence he always brought. “Thank you, Josie. For listening. For understanding.”
He gave me a small, sad smile. “Anytime. And if this someone gives you shit about this again, you let me know. I’ll take care of it or better yet, let Brenda know, just not Horse, because he’ll kill him. Brenda will just make him suffer.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “I don’t think he meant to hurt me. He just... doesn’t understand.”
Josie sighed, his eyes softening. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean he can say things like that.”
I nodded, knowing he was right. Bolt’s words had cut deeper than I’d expected, and while I didn’t think he’d meant to hurt me, it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.
The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence as we both went back to work—Josie stirring, me focusing on my dough. But the weight of what Josie had shared lingered between us, a quiet understanding that bound us together in a way I hadn’t expected.
As I worked, my mind wandered back to Bolt. To the complicated mess of feelings I had for him. And despite everything, despite the hurt and the confusion, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. That there was still more to come between us.
“Fiona,” Brenda called to me as she came into the kitchen. “Sit and have some coffee with me.”
“Give me a minute,” I said, throwing a towel over my dough and washing my hands before joining her at one of the tables, a mug of coffee already waiting on me.
“Hey Barbie,” I greeted as she moved behind the counter to talk with Josie. She must have come in with Brenda.
“Smells good in here,” she replied, giving Josie a wink and going to his side.
“What happened last night?” Brenda asked, her eyes concerned when I sat down.
“What do you mean?”
“One of the girls saw you come from outside cryin’,” Brenda replied, taking my hand. “Now tell me who or what made you upset.”
I wasn’t about to throw Bolt under the bus with Brenda either, part of me protective of him, so I went with a partial truth. “I wandered outside last night for a walk and saw the party by the bonfire... it was disturbing what was going on.”
“You mean the drinkin’ or the wild fun?”
“All of it,” I said, with a frown. “The way they were acting, the rough handling of the women, it was awful. It reminded me of James...”
Brenda gave me a sad look and I could see she was carefully choosing her words. “Fiona, your daddy didn’t ever want you to see that part of the club, but it exists and always has. Those women, the sweet butts and hang-arounds, know the score. They like what those men do to them and keep comin’ back in hopes of becoming an ol’ lady. Don’t judge Fiona, I was once one of them, always hopin’ and I realized too late that’s not how things work around here.”
“What’s so special about being an ol’ lady that you would allow men to do those things to you?”
Brenda gave me a sad smile. “Protection, power, money and wearing that property patch as you ride on the back of his ride.”
“It’s that special?”
Her eyes looked thoughtful before she said, “It’s all I ever wanted, and I worked hard for my chance, but no man here could ever look past me being a sweet butt... not even...” her words trailed off and she gave herself a shake. “Just don’t think the men in the club are bad because of what you saw. These are good men with some vices, but they would never raise a hand to a woman or force her to do anything she didn’t want to.”
A terrible thought occurred to me, and I asked, “Brenda, did my dad... after he and mom got married?”
“Hell no!” she said. “There wasn’t a woman alive that could turn your daddy’s head from Caroline.”
“I’m glad,” I replied with a soft smile. “The memories I have are always of them, so loving and laughing all the time. I don’t want those memories tarnished, it’s all I have of her.”
“Fiona, you just gotta remember that every man is different,” she explained. “And just because you get one bad apple doesn’t mean the whole basket is rotten.”
“I know you’re right,” I confessed. “But as I stood there, flashbacks of what James would become at times took over and I think it will always cloud my judgment, making me mistrustful.”
“Forgettin’ takes time,” Brenda said, squeezing my hand. “What I would suggest is to stick to the common room at night. Devil is strict in his policy of the wilder stuff outside, he can’t abide it and makes damn sure the rule is followed.”
“I will,” I promised, giving her a kiss on the cheek as I stood. “Now I have bread to finish. Thanks for checking on me. I love you.”
“I’ll always look out for my baby girl,” Brenda said, blowing me a kiss.