Chapter Twenty-Nine
Elise
Two Weeks Later
Squeezing my eyes tightly closed, I raised a hand and rubbed at the stabbing pain in my temples.
“Are you okay?” Sophie asked. “That headache still bothering you?”
Plastering a fake smile on my face, I waved my hand. “It’s fine. I just can’t seem to shake it. Tylenol usually helps, but it’s not touching it today.”
Sophie passed Belle off to Cara, who sat beside my daughter on one of the couches in the bar and leaned toward me. “Where does it hurt?”
“My forehead and the base of my skull mainly,” I advised her. “But it sometimes hits my right temple.”
“Hmm,” she said as if to herself. “It sounds like tension or stress. Are you sleeping okay?”
“Yes, fine,” I replied, trying to keep the defensiveness out of my tone.
The fact was, I was sleeping terribly. I was plagued with nightmares, and I kept waking up in a cold sweat, thinking I was back in my room at Robert’s mansion. The day before, when I awoke with a start, I saw the pink of my old comforter and the old-fashioned flowers on the expensive drapes, and I had to stop myself from screaming in terror.
I’d read up on trauma and knew it often healed through our subconscious. Now I was safe, my brain had started to work through the shit I’d endured with Robert. It was debilitating at times, but I was confident things would eventually settle down.
Robert was gone; he couldn’t hurt me anymore, so I needed to get over it and start living my life without him always in the back of my mind, taunting me. My ex-husband had taken too much of my life from me already. I wouldn’t let him take my future, too, especially when Stone and I were getting along so well.
John had been helping Cash with the club's handover, but he still had more free time, which we mostly spent together.
Our initial ride up to Grand Junction was awesome, especially sharing it with Abe and Iris. Having the other couple with us took the pressure off, and the day passed with friends, laughing and joking around. We walked through the town, had lunch, grabbed coffee, and generally screwed around like we were kids again. John needed it that day; he’d made a life-changing decision, and he needed to experience what the future held. So, I wanted us to have one day where the club and all its drama stayed in the rearview.
Apart from riding, we spent time at the house John had built, doing what we needed to get it ready for us. John wanted to put the finishing touches on the building while I took inventory of what we needed to equip the kitchen and the other rooms. Drapes, rugs, lamps, and all the other stuff that made a house a home became my new religion. One night, we lit the grill, and the officers came over with their ol’ ladies. We had fun eating with plastic cutlery and off paper plates, laughing, and watching the kids run around down the creek.
As well as getting emotionally closer, we’d started to get physically closer, too.
It started with heated looks and secret smiles, but it quickly evolved. I noticed whenever we were together, John had to touch me in some way.
Physical closeness hadn’t been a part of my life, so every time John’s hand slid to my hip and he stroked it with his thumb, my heart fluttered, and my butterflies came alive. John kissed me good morning and also kissed me goodnight, but he also kissed me when I handed him a coffee or made him a sandwich. John and I had started making out on the couch at night while we watched TV, like teenagers, and slowly, it brought me back to life.
However, we decided not to move in together just yet.
Years ago, I went from my parents to John, to Robert, and back to John. I was a fifty-two-year-old woman who had never lived alone, and I wanted to experience it, so I started looking at rentals. Everything fell into place when Anna announced she was moving in with her new guy and offered to rent me the apartment above her salon.
The place was cozy, with its two bedrooms and the lounge and kitchen all in one room. It was light, bright, welcoming, and simply gorgeous, just like Anna.
It was also perfect for me.
I’d moved in a few days before, but tonight was staying here at the clubhouse for the big club run and the party afterward—in John’s bed with him.
John didn’t seem motivated by sex, but then when I thought back to when we were young, he was the same way. We did it, but he held off until I was legal, and, for him, it was more about making it special than getting off. Even as a young man, John picked a career where sex wasn’t available until his leave, and although we did it often, we could’ve done it more. Back then, he was more interested in us doing things together and making memories for him to take back to San Diego.
He insisted that spending the night together wasn’t about sex; he just wanted us to be close.
However, I really wanted him to fuck me. So, bedtime would be interesting.
“Maybe you should go and get some tests,” Sophie suggested.
I pushed down the irritated feeling her words evoked. “Honestly, I’m fine. It’s been a nightmare few months, and I’m probably still a little stressed. A good run out on the bikes will make me feel better.”
“But, Mom—” she began.
“Sophie,” I snapped loudly. “I’m fine.”
Her face fell, and she looked at me, her eyes seemingly confused
My stomach began to churn painfully.
Jesus, what was I doing?
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I just want to have a good day, and the more I talk about my headache, the worse it seems to get.”
Cara’s eyes narrowed on me. “Okaaay?”
“Sorry,” I repeated. “I must be overtired—’
The doors flew open, and Atlas’s muscular body filled the threshold. My son-in-law jerked his thumb toward the parking lot and boomed, “Let’s fuckin’ go.”
Sophie studied me, her smile turning thin-mouthed. “Hopefully, your headache will ease soon.”
“Thanks,” I replied, standing and turning to Cara. “Who’s got the kids today?”
She grinned, getting to her feet along with Sophie. “Sera, Mason, and Billy. The men are giving Billy all the extra shitty jobs because he’s getting patched in soon. They wanna make it hurt before it gets better.”
I laughed gently. “John was saying something about a Church ritual?”
Sophie made an ‘eek’ face. “Something tells me Billy won’t play the game.” She took Belle from Cara, gently kissing her fuzzy hair. “Let’s get you to Auntie Sera.”
As she went to walk away, I touched her arm. “I’m really sorry for snapping. I know you’re only trying to help.”
“It’s okay,” she shrugged casually, “Cara’s a raging bitch when she’s on the rag. You’re a pussy cat compared to her.”
Cara shot her a look. “Excuse me. I’m a raging bitch all of the time, not just on shark week.”
Sophie walked away laughing. “I’ll see you out there.”
“She’s too fucking perfect,” Cara muttered.
My eyes stayed on Sophie until she disappeared through the door. “Yeah, she is.”
“Hey,” Cara murmured. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
My gaze slid to meet hers, and my stomach warmed at her concerned expression.
I’d always liked Cara. When she was with Junior, I didn’t know her well because I never wanted to be close to anybody, but I always thought she was lovely. My ex-husband liked her because she was accomplished, and he loved the fact that she worked with kids because it would stand Robbie in good stead when he stood for election. But I always noticed how distant she seemed, probably because I was the same way.
“I feel weird,” I admitted.
Her arched eyebrows drew together. “Sick, weird?”
“No,” I relayed. “I feel off. I’m not sleeping well, and I think it’s affecting me.”
“But you told Sophie you slept fine,” she accused gently.
“I know,” I blurted out. “But I didn’t want to worry her. She’s cared for me since the day I got here. I’m the parent; I should be caring for her.”
She scrunched her nose up. “I don’t think it works like that, Elise, but I kinda get it. My mom’s the same way with me. When she had her hysterectomy, she was laid up and hated me waiting on her, even though she’d just had a massive operation.” She grinned. “I told her to get used to it because there may come a day when I have to change her diapers.”
I laughed.
“My point is,” she continued. “Everybody needs help at different points in their lives. Right now, you need Soph’s support, but who’s to say next year, she won’t need yours? One thing therapy taught me was that everybody goes through hard times, but it’s up to us to find the tools to cope effectively. Family is a huge tool, so utilize it.”
“I don’t think I know how,” I explained. “I’ve gone for years relying on myself. Now, it’s second nature. I can be vulnerable, but only to a certain point because all my life, whenever I’ve been vulnerable, somebody’s used it to hurt me.”
“Do you think Sophie, John, Atlas, hell, anybody in this club would do that?”
“No,” I replied vehemently.
“That’s step one,” she declared. “Step two is to call Mitch Handley’s practice first thing Monday morning and make an appointment. Let him help you find the tools to heal.”
“Do you think I’d benefit from therapy?” I asked curiously.
“You’re not sleeping, Elise. Why do you think that is?”
My head stabbed painfully, and I rubbed at my temple. “Shit.”
Cara grinned. “You’ll be fine… eventually.”
“Shit!” I muttered again.
“Are you two still here?” my daughter called out.
Turning, I smiled, watching Sophie strut toward us. “Come on.” She motioned toward the parking lot. “It’s the last club run of the year.” She slipped her hand through the crook of my arm and tugged me through the bar to the door. “The boys will be waiting.”
We walked outside, and the sun hit my eyes.
My head throbbed, and I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the harsh brightness. A burning sensation seared my chest, and my breaths began to come hard and fast. The revving of the engines grated on me, and the grinding and popping of Harleys, usually birdsong to my ears, made the pain in my head intensify.
Fumbling inside my jacket pocket for my sunglasses, I quickly put them on, sighing thankfully when they provided instant relief. I peered through my dazed eyes at the long line of bikes to see John grinning at me.
My breath hitched.
His hair was messy where he’d been running his fingers through it, and his tan was golden from being out in the sun. He wore a tee under his club leather jacket, black jeans, and biker boots. His chest and back were broad under his clothes, his muscles rippling under them every time he moved or flexed.
He made me weak at the knees, and I couldn’t wait to curl up in bed with him later, and explore every ridged dip and curve of his body.
He held his arm out and shouted, “Come on, Duchess.”
Giving my man a wobbly smile, I began to pick my way over the forecourt in my spike-heeled boots toward him and the green bike he’d coveted years ago because the color reminded him of my eyes.
Placing my hand in his, he tugged me behind him, holding my fingers tightly as I threw my leg over the saddle and settled in comfortably behind him.
John grabbed my thighs, pulling me forward, and then he grabbed my new helmet from the handlebars and passed it to me.
A few days before, John and I had gone down to a bike shop in Grand Junction to buy new brain buckets. My shiny new peacock-blue one was all singing, all dancing, with built-in speakers and a microphone. It meant we could listen to music directly from his cell phone.
He craned his neck. “What tunes do you want?”
“Put on the playlist we listened to when we were decorating the other day,” I told him excitedly.
“The one that starts with Kings of Leon?” he checked.
I nodded.
He faced forward, playing with his phone briefly until the opening bars of ‘Use Somebody’ burst through the speakers. Then, he glanced left at Breaker—who had Kennedy plastered to his back—and gave him a chin lift.
“Hold on tight, Duchess,” John ordered, revving the bike and setting off slowly to join the main road leading through town.
I did as I was told and pressed my cheek to John’s back until I felt all tension leave his body.
Riding always relaxed him; it was in his blood, and he got so much pleasure from it that it made me happy, too. If only I could get rid of this damned headache, I could relax and enjoy the day exactly for what it was.
Me and John together again, looking toward the future.
Riding had always connected us, not just physically, but emotionally, too. I never felt closer to John than when I sat behind him, holding onto him tight with the wind whipping all around us.
John’s hand rested on my knee, his fingers tapping lightly in time with the bass, and I smiled at the memory of the day we rode up to Grand Junction so he could enlist.
Tears sprung to my eyes because it hit me that John and I had survived thirty years of hell.
So much crap had been thrown at us, sadness, heartache, lies, and manipulation, but somehow we’d come through it, maybe a little scarred here and there, but still whole.
I opened my eyes and froze when I saw the country club looming up ahead.
My throat went dry. A whoosh filled my ears, and it suddenly felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. My breaths came short and sharp as I struggled to take in air, and a feeling of impending doom settled on my shoulders because I knew what was coming.
I hadn’t seen the mansion since the day we got Brett back undercover, but even then, my mind was on the ruse, not my surroundings.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to see the house of horrors ever again. It was a place of evil, a place where my husband raped and controlled me, a place that I suspected he took young female victims to and raped them as well.
I’d come so far since I left, but at that moment, I could feel myself regressing to the closed-off, terrified woman who first turned up at the clubhouse weeks before. My fingers tremored, and my insides burned with fright and shame.
I should’ve done more.
Why didn’t I do more to help?
Why couldn’t I save them?
Why did God allow me to survive while they died, or worse, lived their lives in torment?
My eyes lifted once again, and I gasped when I saw my old house—or should I say, what was left of it—appear before me.
The top half had completely disappeared, but parts of the ground floor remained and were at the mercy of the elements. I could see old pieces of furniture inside that still hadn’t been cleared and rubble on the ground outside that had been moved to one spot but not taken away.
A memory floated back to me from a few days before.
I received a letter from the town council demanding that I deal with the remains of the house. But until that moment, I didn’t remember receiving it. It was only seeing the mansion in such a state that brought it back to me at all.
It was like I dreamed it.
My throat closed up so tight it hurt to take a breath.
Why didn’t I remember?
What was happening to me?
Was I losing my mind?
Somehow, I’d managed to keep my shit together during the ride.
I could see the concern etched on John’s face, but what could I say? Don’t mind me, babe. I’m just losing the plot over here. As you were.
In the end, just to get him off my back, I blamed my headache, which wasn't entirely a lie since my brain had throbbed against my skull all day. Luckily, Sophie backed me up after our earlier conversation in the bar.
The truth was, I didn’t want anybody making a fuss. I felt embarrassed that I’d put a downer on everybody’s day. Every member and their woman had been looking forward to the run for weeks. That night, the club would party and patch Billy in, then in the morning, John would call a members’ meeting to advise them of the changes in management—Abe’s phrase.
Mostly, I managed to keep my shit together and got through the day— thank God . When we got back, we stood at the bar, shooting the shit and drinking beer with John’s fingers glued to my hip.
The alcohol had weirdly taken the edge off my headache, and after a while, I finally started to enjoy myself. The girls left the men up at the bar, and we were by the corridor leading to the kitchen, dancing and goofing around.
Kennedy was showing me some stripper moves, and I was whooping it up, holding a beer bottle up high with one hand while I swayed my hips, singing at the top of my voice along with the music.
My emotions were on a high, probably brought on by the relief of finally losing the headache that had been plaguing me on and off for days. My heart felt buoyant in my chest, and excitement filled my belly.
Cara turned away toward the bar, and I grabbed her arm. “Don’t leave,” I yelled. “Stay and dance.”
She jerked her thumb toward Iris, who was wrestling Wilder down from a table. “I need to go see to—”
“Iris doesn’t mind,” I shouted excitedly. “She loves Wilder. I love Wilder, too, even when he pulls my top down. Wilder’s the shit.”
“I think you mean Wilder’s a shit. But I’ll take it,” Cara replied good-naturedly, her gaze sliding to Sophie before coming back to me, smiling at the animated expression on my face. “Are you drunk?”
I looked at my bottle. “This is my third.”
Sophie’s face gentled. “No, Mom. You had at least three at the bar. You must be on your fourth or fifth by now.” She smiled. “It’s okay; you’re allowed to let your hair down. We’ll be here to look after you if you get a little messy. God knows you deserve some fun.”
A lick of fire burned through my chest. “This is my third,” I bit out.
“Elise—” Kennedy began.
I whirled on her, clutching the beer bottle tightly. “I’m not lying. This is my third.”
Kennedy held her hands up defensively. “Okay, okay. That’s your third. All good, Duchess.”
“What’s goin’ on?” John’s deep voice demanded.
I spun around and opened my mouth to say something. A strange, numb feeling flooded my body. My fingers tremored, and I dropped my beer bottle, staring, horrified, as it smashed into tiny pieces on the floor.
A sharp pain flashed through my head, and I winced, my hand jerking up to rub my temple.
Gentle hands turned me, and Sophie asked, “Mom? Are you okay?”
My head jerked up. “I’m fine,” I said brightly. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve had too much to drink. I think I’m gonna go and lie down.”
John frowned. “Are you sick?”
“No—”
“She’s been suffering with headaches all week,” Sophie told him. “I asked her to see a doctor, but she keeps putting it off.”
Kennedy lifted her hand to her mouth and coughed, “Rat.”
Sophie rolled her eyes.
“Why didn’t you let on you were sick, Duchess?” John demanded. “Jesus, I took you on a four-hour club run.”
“I wanted to go,” I assured him. “There was no way I was about to miss my first club run.”
He raised a hand to rub his salt-and-pepper beard thoughtfully. “I’ll take you to my room, and you can lay down for a while. Will it be cool with you if I come back and do Billy’s patch in? I’ll get my ass straight back to you when it’s done.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I protested. “I’ll probably fall asleep anyway. I’m exhausted.”
John cocked his head. “You didn’t get up until I brought coffee to your place this morning; that wasn’t until ten.”
“What are you, the sleep police?” I snapped.
His head reared back slightly. “No,” he retorted. “I’m not the fuckin’ sleep police. I’m just a guy worried about his woman.” John’s eyes bored into mine. “What’s with you?”
“I’m just tired and bitchy,” I acquiesced. “Ignore me.” I took my daughter’s hand in mine. “I’m sorry for snapping. I promise I’ll call the doctor’s office on Monday morning.”
She smiled. “You’re forgiven.”
John’s hand slid across my shoulder, and he pulled me close. “Come on. Let’s get you restin’. Don’t want my woman keeling over in the middle of the bar.”
John patiently waited while I said goodnight to the girls. Then he pulled me down the corridor toward his room, tucking me under his arm.
I marveled at how my life had done a complete one-eighty in a matter of weeks. The one positive aspect of my dreams was that they reminded me of how shitty my life was with Robert. For thirty years, I’d walked on eggshells, constantly lying about what I was doing and where I’d been, and I often got a solid beating because Robert caught me out.
My life then was like a game of cat and mouse, and it was stressful. I’d lived on my nerves for so long that I found myself missing the buzz of it. I’d been on high alert throughout my marriage, and now the pressure was off, my mind struggled to adapt.
“You’re quiet, baby,” John pointed out.
My head turned and tipped back. “I was thinking about how different my life is now compared to just a few months ago.”
We approached John’s room, and he pulled his keys from his pocket and slotted them into the lock. “Are you struggling with the changes?” he asked, pushing the door open for me.
John turned the light on at the wall, and I winced as it hit my eyes. A concerned expression flickered over his face. “You gonna be okay?” he inquired, watching me head for the bathroom.
Craning my neck, I smiled brightly. “I’ll be fine once I brush my teeth, put my PJs on, and hit the sack.”
With a smirk, he went to his drawers, pulled one open, and grabbed something out of it. “Wear my tee, baby,” he ordered, throwing it at me.
I caught it with one hand, immediately noticing the softness of the washed-out black material. “Thanks. You’ll be lucky to get it back.” I held it up to my cheek and snuggled into it. “It feels good.”
“I’ve got no problem with you wearin’ my tees around town, Duchess,” he drawled. “I’d get a kick out of seein’ you wanderin’ around the stores, effectively claimed by wearin’ my clothes.”
“You’re such a caveman,” I teased, walking into the bathroom and picking up my washbag. “You bikers are incorrigible.”
John appeared at the door and leaned his shoulder against the frame, grinning. “Waited a long time to see you in one of my tees again, baby. If you think I’ll ever miss another opportunity to get my colors on your back, you can think again.”
“Colors?” I asked, my tone confused.
He nodded toward the tee. “Look.”
I unfolded it and held it up, my jaw dropping when my eyes fell on the Speed Demons patch on the back. I swiveled my head toward my man. “You’re giving me your club tee to wear?”
“One of ‘em,” he confirmed. “But they’re all yours if you want ‘em.”
My heart skipped a beat.
He walked closer, gathering me in his arms. “You wanna go on vacation with me in a few weeks?”
I tipped my chin up to look at him and whispered, “I’d love that.”
He bent his neck and nuzzled my nose. “We’ll grab a map of the States tomorrow and drop a pin on it. Wherever it lands, we’ll go.” He lifted his face and gave me a forehead kiss, and my heart felt as if it would burst.
John nodded toward the door. “Sooner I get my shit done, the sooner I can get back to you, baby. You gonna be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “Go, see to your brothers. It’s Billy’s night; make it a memorable one for him.”
“You come first, Leesy,” he told me. “You know that, right? Soon, I’ll be all yours.”
I smiled. “I know you’ve still got a responsibility to the club, John. It’s fine, I understand.”
“Final stretch,” he reiterated. “Then it’s just you and me.”
I rolled up on my toes and touched my mouth to his. “Go, John.”
With a final kiss on my cheek, he turned for the door and left.
I held the sink with both hands, staring into the mirror above it.
My face was smooth, and the only wrinkles I had were thin laughter lines you could only detect if you looked closely for them.
Robert forced me to get plastic surgery every year.
I’d had a facelift and Botox, which thankfully was starting to wear off. My breasts had been lifted, and my tummy tucked, although it was already concave flat since Robert kept me on a calorie deficit. I hated my surgery so much that I despised looking in the mirror because the reflection wasn’t me. I’d been his doll, his toy, his fucking punchbag, and he’d done that shit to me for the sole reason of getting one over on John.
Robert loved other men complimenting him on his beautiful wife. They’d gush, telling him how lucky he was that I never let myself go. He was such a liar and a hypocrite; he’d tell everybody how much he loved me and then, days later, turn up at a fancy restaurant, showing off his latest mistress, and the same men would clap him on the back proudly.
Robert Henderson didn’t know what love was. The asshole was so stupid he couldn’t tell the difference between love and obsession. He never loved me; he was obsessed with stealing me from John.
Turning away from the mirror, I pulled my clothes off and slipped John’s tee over my head. After brushing my teeth, flossing, and cleansing my skin, I folded everything into a neat pile, headed back into the bedroom, and carefully placed my clothes on a chair.
I switched on the lamp before turning the light off at the wall and, with a yawn, got into bed. The sheets were clean, crisp, and cool when I slipped under them. My heart fluttered when I caught John’s scent on the tee I wore.
The club run must have taken more out of me than I realized because the instant I closed my eyes, I felt myself nodding off, smiling as John’s sandalwood scent enveloped me.
I awoke with a start, and my still sleepy gaze fell on the floral drapes.
“Elise,” Robert murmured chillingly. “I’m back.”
My body locked, for a split second, ice filling my veins, and I started to shake violently. “G—Get out.”
His hand slid over my shoulder from behind, and I shoved him off. Every muscle in my body stretched taut, and every nerve-ending set alight. My breath sawed painfully through my burning lungs.
My frantic stare fell on my pink comforter, and I wailed, tearing my hand through my hair before hauling myself to my knees. Every hair on my body stood on end, and my skin burned.
Robert’s shadowy figure loomed before me, and his fingers curled around my arm.
“Don’t touch me,” I shrieked. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” My fingers balled into fists, and I swung hard, punching his temple. “Get out, get out, get out.”
“Elise,” he croaked, grabbing me again. “Calm down—”
Snarling, I leaped at him, clawing his skin with my fingernails, kicking and screaming. “I hate you,” I shrieked. “I fucking hate you.” I rained more blows down onto his head, screaming, “I don’t want you near me.”
A loud banging noise filled the room, and somebody bellowed, “Dad. Open the door.”
“Help me,” I screeched, wildly looking around the room, my shoulders slumping as all fight drained from my body. Scrambling from my bed, I fell to my knees and crawled to the corner of the room. “Please help me,” I begged, bursting into tears. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I hugged them, resting my face on them. I began to rock back and forth. “Please help me,” I whispered.
“It’s okay, Duchess,” John soothed.
“H—he’s here,” I stuttered through my chattering teeth. “He’s here.”