8. Amber
8
AMBER
The past
Illinois - Three days later
“We did it,” I say, sagging back against the seat on our next bus. “They’ll never find us now.”
We’ve been on three buses so far, and have a little left for food but not much.
“Will it always be like this?” Erica whispers, her gaze not meeting mine. Poor Olive is asleep next to her, and I’m sitting on the opposite side of the aisle. “Looking over our shoulders?”
I shake my head. “No, it won’t, I promise. It seems hard now because we have to start again, but we can do that.”
I’m ashamed to admit that we raided the charity bin outside one of the shops after dark so we could dump our current clothes. I was too scared they’d see how we were dressed and march us back to the compound. I’m as full of paranoia as Erica is, I just seem to be hiding it better, which is weird; it’s usually the other way around.
Erica smiles to herself, a small giggle on her lips.
“What’s so funny?”
She waves a hand, then all of sudden, she’s in a fit of giggles. “I’m remembering how you knocked Jude out.”
I laugh, too. “Oh, that felt pretty amazing after all the shit she’s pulled over the years.”
“You were fearless. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I didn’t want the opportunity to slip away.” I shudder when I think about what we almost lost. I don’t like violence, but honestly? Jude had it coming. She was a few moments away from running to get help, the nosy little bitch. If our chance at freedom was jeopardized, I don’t know what we would’ve done. I couldn’t go on for another second in that place.
“She almost ruined all of it.” My voice is small, it almost cracks on the last word. I glance at my sister-in-law, really taking her in. She looks tired and pale.
Her eyes meet mine. “But she didn’t, and now we’re here.”
“Because we stuck together.”
“Exactly.” Erica turns to look out of the window. She looks sad in the reflection, her face falling. We’ve both suffered so much trauma, and we’re running for our lives. Even though we’re technically free, it feels like we’re going to get pulled over at any second and get arrested, or worse, sent back. Then I remind myself that nobody knows us. We’re not doing anything wrong.
“No matter what.” I reach across the aisle as she turns, her hand gripping mine. “We’re gonna get through this. We’ve come this far.”
I know she’s uncertain about the future, I am too, but we have to take each day as it comes. Nothing could be worse than the situation we’ve both been in for the majority of our lives. I’d rather die than go back there, and I’ve got so much to live for. We all do.
She nods, tears pricking her vision. “Thank you, Amber, for everything.”
I smile softly. “Thank you for believing we could do it.”
“What will become of us?” she asks softly.
I squeeze her hand. “I don’t know, but we have to believe it’s better than all of this.”
She closes her eyes and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe. Ironic, really.
On a bus to who-knows-where with no money and no place to land, and it already feels like the weight has been lifted. Charlie drove us to the bus station and wished us well. He was our savior. He even pitched in money for the bus tickets because we wouldn’t have enough to buy food. I know we’ll get through whatever hurdles come our way because nothing, nothing, could ever be as bad as what we’ve been through.
Present day
I stare at the Amazon package, confused with what I don’t remember ordering. I’ve drunkenly bought stuff before in the past and forgot about it until said mysterious items showed up a few days later, but as I unearth the stack of books, I frown. They’re romance books; the only kind I read, but I don’t have a wish list or anything… then I see the note.
So, you said that vanilla is considered boring in your smutty little books. I hope this proves you wrong… On the other hand, I could be offending a whole legion of smutty book nerds… I guess you’ll let me know if my theory is correct. B x
I start laughing as I sit on the floor and take out the stack of beautiful books — each a unique mix of covers from bare-chested men on the front, couples embracing, cartoon couples and floral arrangements. I shake my head in disbelief.
“You ass,” I mutter. Pulling out my cell, I text Bronco.
Me
I know what you’re doing with the vanilla thing, and I’d like to point out that you brought it up
A few moments later, I receive Bronco’s reply.
Bronco
I know I did, and you said it was boring
Me
I said no hero has ever said he’s gonna give the heroine good old plain, boring vanilla
Bronco
Didn’t I say vanilla with dark chocolate on top? Some men don’t need theatrics, that was my point
Me
Thank you for the books
Bronco
I’ll have you know I spent a lot of time researching heroes with a conscience
Me
I’ve never heard of such a thing
Bronco
That’s because you read Haunting Adeline for kicks
Me
Hey! How do you know what Haunting Adeline is?
Bronco
I could tell you some things
Me
I’m getting worried about how you spend your down time if you know about that book
Bronco
Tell me which one you’re gonna read first
I look down at the stack of twelve books and shake my head. This man is excessive, I swear.
Me
I haven’t decided yet, I’ve just opened the box
Bronco
We could buddy read, if you want
Me
You’d do that?
Bronco
What are friends for?
I don’t know what to say, this man surprises me at every turn. I know he’s not into reading romance books, but he just offered to do exactly that.
Me
That means you’ll need a second set
Unless he plans to read over my shoulder, which I doubt, I kinda like the idea of our own little book club. Even if realistically, this will be like torture for him.
Bronco
I’m more of an eBook kinda guy
The fact he knows I prefer paperbacks is a testament that he knows me and what I like, and despite what he says, I don’t only enjoy dark romance. I like any kind, as long as it has a happy ever after.
Me
You know, if you keep being this sweet you’ll get a reputation for being a nice guy
Bronco
I’ll take my chances
I close my phone and a little squeal erupts as I check out the books all over again. I love pretty things. Ever since I left the compound, I’ve tried to make it a thing that I spoil myself with the things I love the most, but couldn’t have when I lived at the church: books. One can never have too many books. I collect half of the stash in my arms, transporting them to my bedroom. Since Olive moved in, I’ve had to relocate my spicy book collection.
I line them up to the far right of the shelf where the other ‘to be read’ treasures sit happily waiting their turn. I pick one out, running my fingertips over the raised lettering. The man even got me a couple of foiled copies with sprayed edges. It would’ve cost a fortune. I shouldn’t be surprised, Bronco is a good guy through and through, and as much as we joke around, I do have a soft spot for him. I battle again with my feelings. I could easily go there. I could easily fall for him. Bronco is easy on the eyes, as well as smart, cute and funny; the whole package. He also has a body made for sin, and I’ve seen his pecs on more than one occasion. My cheeks burn a little when I think about that whole nine inches comment… he can’t be that big. Is it even possible? Okay, I know it’s possible because I’ve googled it, but it’s not commonplace. Then again, what would I know? I’ve had one disaster after another, and sex with Vince wasn’t exactly the kind you read about in romance books. I shudder at the idea of him ever touching my skin. I’ll never let that happen again. Hell would freeze over. I’ve only got a few hours before we have to get ready to go to the clubhouse for the party, and I’ve got a spring in my step. Knowing I have a new book to come home to and read after being out makes me giddy; I am a nerd at heart, and I don’t deny it. Being out is overrated, but I still have to make an appearance with Olive and I agreed with Bronco the other day that it’s time they met, along with my girlfriends at the clubhouse.
The MC is a big part of my life, and I’m not ashamed of it. I just wanted to protect Olive; that’s all I’ve ever wanted.
I’ve been contemplating whether it was truly a good idea bringing Olive to the party, but since Cami and Ella will be there, it seems mean to not let her come. I guess I’m just being selfish because I don’t know how she’ll respond to questions about where her mom is. I don’t want the MC involved, though I have thought about talking to Star. She’s a PI and I’m sure it’s worth trying to locate Erica. If she is in trouble and I sit here and do nothing, what does that make me? Still, we have to live our lives. I can’t go on shielding all of this from Olive forever, she’s not dumb, but today she gets to be a kid and have fun with her friends.
That’s the least I can give her in all this mess.
I crouch down, Olive holding the bag of gifts we picked out and me balancing the Tupperware of treats we made this morning on my knee. It’s the first time in weeks she’s been excited about something, other than hanging out with Cami. If I can give her that, and it takes her mind off things, then it’s a job well done in my book. I love my niece, but I’ve no clue what to do with a child. I keep texting Erica’s number, knowing the messages don’t go anywhere, but the idea that she could get them makes me feel better. I worry about her day and night.
She’d never leave her kid, never. And Olive knows nothing more than I know; her mom had to go away for a little while, but she’d be back soon. The hand-written note Olive handed me said as much, but left no clues to where she was actually going. Now I have to lie to my niece and tell her that her mom had some business to take care of, and she’ll be back for her soon, not knowing if that was actually true. I’m mad at her, truth be told. More than mad. Livid.
I know with a hundred percent certainty that she would never go back to the compound. It’s the last thing she’d ever do.
Erica knows she can talk to me. I’m the one person she can lean on; a sister. I’ve always got her back, and she has mine. So why this secrecy? I’m hurt by her actions.
I squash my feelings down, knowing I’ve got to put up a happy front for my niece and not ruin the party by crying.
“Feeling okay, honey?” I ask as Olive looks down at me. Her pretty pale blue dress matches the color of her eyes. “You’re a little quiet.”
“I hope they like their presents,” she admits, chewing on her lip. It’s a habit she gets from me, funnily enough. “I mean, the babies won’t know, obviously, but the older kids might not like them.”
I cup one side of her cheek. “They’re gonna love them, do you know why?”
She shakes her head, trepidation written all over her face with a frown and her eyes glazing over making her look sad. I don’t want her to cry. It’s a party, I’d love for her to enjoy the moment and just be a kid again instead of worrying all the time.
“Because you picked them out.”
Her face softens and she envelopes me with a hug. “Thanks, Aunty A. I really needed to hear that.”
I smile to myself. She’s very properly spoken, which comes with years of living in an environment like we did where no-one speaks out of turn. I think when she gets a bit older, I’ll help her out with some cussing. Lord knows it’s helped me in the past.
“Atta girl. You’re gonna be fine, plus you already know Ella and Cami, and they can’t wait to see you.”
She perks up at the sound of her friend’s names. “Okay!”
I stand, tucking the Tupperware under my arm. “Ready?”
“Yep!”
This kid. She’s been through so much in her short little life, and I hate that she has no answers. The more I think about Erica and her note, I want to scream with rage.
Dear Amber,
You know I wouldn’t do this if there was any other way. Please understand how much I love you and my daughter, and to abandon her like this, although temporarily, kills me.
I don’t have a choice. I wish I did, but things in my life are more complicated than you can imagine. Know that I’m okay and I’ll be back. I get you’ll be mad at me for trying to fix this myself, but I have to. This is one mess I need to sort out on my own.
I’ve told Olive I have to go away for a few weeks for work, and that we’ll be moving to New Orleans permanently, so she won’t be any the wiser. She’ll be okay if she’s with you.
Please try not to be mad at me.
I love you. I’ll be back soon.
Don’t look for me, I beg you, it’ll only make things worse.
Your sister, Erica
I try not to get mad when I think about that letter. Heaven knows I’ve read it over and over so many times, the paper is wearing thin.
How could she do this to me? To Olive? To herself?
We tell each other everything, and now she does this vanishing act that, quite frankly, is scaring the shit out of me. The more I think about it, the more I need to talk to Star. It’s been more than a few weeks, and every night I’m awake trying to think of something, anything, to calm this situation and make sense of it. That’s a little hard when I’ve nothing to go on. Olive arrived with two suitcases of her stuff and some cash. I’m a little insulted that Erica would give me money; as if I wouldn’t look after my own niece, but that’s just how she is. So, yeah, I’m fucking mad at her, and I have every right to be.
I glance up as we head through the side gate at the back of the clubhouse. The garden that leads to Cash and Deanna’s house is nothing short of magical. I helped Crystal, Deanna, Jas and the other women set up the fairy lights, as well as the tables and chairs. It really does look like something out of a story book.
I’m not surprised when the first person I see is Crystal, running around after Ade who has swiped two cupcakes off the nearby table and is running away laughing. He’s a handful, and I can’t help but giggle a little. Olive does too, turning to look at me when I see Bronco heading out with two large platters of sandwiches covered with saran wrap. He falters when he spots me, his eyes shifting to Olive as he grins. He places the trays down in the center of the outdoor tables before heading toward us.
“You remember the friend I told you about?” I start, hoping Olive remembers. “My friend, who's a boy?”
“Yep, Bronco, right?” She’s a smart kid and always listens.
“Right, well, he’s headed this way.”
He’s larger than life, his hair slicked back a little off his face and he’s trimmed his beard. Man oh man, I should not be noticing that, or the way his eyes light up at the very sight of us. My throat thickens; I don’t know what all that’s about, but I try to keep myself calm.
And there he is, standing in front of us. I don’t know what I expected from their first meeting, but Bronco’s grinning his head off. He’s also wearing an Elsa apron that someone, probably Ade, tied over his head. It sits snug against his body and is far too small for him, but he wears it with pride.
“Hello, Amber.” As he smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkles, and in this light I notice the darkening ochre of his orbs and wonder if a biker should be this pretty. Handsome doesn’t even cut it. His eyes dip to Olive. “And you must be Olive? I’m Bronco.”
My niece, ever the perfect child, holds out her little hand to shake his. “Pleased to meet you,” she says as I roll my lips.
Bronco’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Great to meet you also. Your aunt has told me so much about you,” he says, which is true, but I’ve still left out a lot.
Olive casts her gaze to me for a fraction of a second, then says, “She talks a lot about you, too.”
Bronco’s eyebrows nearly shoot off the top of his head as he smirks. “Really? What did she say?”
I give him warning eyes, but he chooses to ignore it.
Olive shrugs. “You ride a loud motorcycle and you have a big dog called Titan.”
He grins even wider. “I do. Sadly my dog chose to stay home and sleep off the donuts I fed him for breakfast instead of coming to party with us. He’s also a little nuts around people he doesn’t know.”
Olive giggles. “You can’t feed a dog donuts!”
“Did I say donuts? What I meant to say was; dog food , my bad.”
She giggles again. “Aunty Amber says you’re kind,” she blurts out of nowhere. “And she wasn’t sure which outfit to wear to the game tomorr?—”
I put my hand over her mouth jestingly. “I think that’s enough story time,” I tell her pointedly.
“Oh, no, I think we should let Olive keep talking, I like story time.”
I shoot him another death glare and he laughs harder. “I think we should go find your friends,” I offer instead.
“What did she pick out to wear?” Bronco asks, and I want to die right there on the spot. Now he thinks this is a date, and it most definitely isn’t one.
Of course, my niece answers dutifully since she was in charge of assessing the options. “Jeans, a Pelicans t-shirt, hoodie and her chucks,” Olive says proudly. I mean, it’s game night. What am I supposed to wear?
Bronco gives me a smile that tells me he’s enjoying this a little too much. “I’m wearing something similar myself.”
Olive laughs again before something distracts her gaze. “Ooh, I see Ella!” she says, excitedly.
Bronco sweeps an arm out, moving so we can pass. “Well, have fun, Olive. Great meetin’ you.”
She gives him a wave and tugs my hand as I begin to move.
He’s grinning because he thinks he has the upper hand now.
“Don’t be so smug,” I mutter.
“Kind, huh? I bet that’s not all you said.”
“I guess we’ll never know, will we, Elsa?”
“Hey, it’s for the kids!” he yells after me. I have to admit, he does look pretty fetching in that apron.
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that!”
For the first time in a long time, the butterflies spin in my stomach.
This is Bronco , I remind my internal chatter. He’s not someone I can crush over. Things are good right now, and I for one don’t want that to change.
Still, the man bought me so-called spicy vanilla books. The spicy scene I read from the first book I started certainly isn’t any kind of vanilla I’m aware of. Not if I ever want to eat a cucumber ever again that is. Then again, I’m sure he didn’t read through the entire collection when he was selecting them off Amazon.
This is just like him, and that’s why he’s so very, very dangerous.