Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Riley
I walk out from my appointment wiping away the tears. This will be the last time I cry about this. I knew it was a long shot, and now I know with certainty that it's never going to happen. I will never be able to carry my own babies. There is nothing that anyone can do with all of the damage from my PCOS. I make it to my car and fall into the driver seat sighing, just exhausted from all the emotions, and crazy, non-stop motion over the last forty-eight hours.
I sit there, numb, letting it all settle in—Flyboy coming off sedation, running into a man that knows my father, and learning that there is no way without miraculous intervention that I’ll ever be able to give birth to a baby that shares my DNA. I pick up my phone realizing that no one in my life right now knows everything there is that’s going on with me. Scrolling through my contacts, my heart squeezes when I come across the name of who I thought was my one, true friend. Her betrayal is what taught me that my judgment of people is subpar at best. Ever since the night that I learned she had been keeping tabs on me for my dad and brother, I knew that I could never let anyone get that close to me, not ever again.
My phone starts vibrating in my hand with multiple text messages, startling me. I pull up the messages and have to read the text about a dozen times before I can register what it’s saying.
Red: HE IS AWAKE!!!!!!!
Red: He has asked for you.
Red: HE’S AWAKE. Woman, get here!!!!!!!
I can’t breathe. This can’t be right. There is no way. It’s too good to be true. They just decided to take him off sedation. It should have taken more than mere hours for him to recover, most sedations take patients days to wake up from. This has to be a joke. My brain spins in a million directions, and like she can read my mind, my phone vibrates in my palm again.
Red: This is not a joke. Take a breath and get your but here!
Laughter bursts free from my chest. How could I, for a second, second guess the woman? She would never play tricks like that. I throw my phone in my passenger seat and crank my car’s ignition over. It’s time to get to the hospital and see what’s going on. Butterflies take flight in my belly—my emotions assault my insides as I get closer to my destination.
Why would he ask for me specifically?
Then my thoughts wander and questions begin to plague me.
What condition is he in?
Why would he ask for me?
That’s the one I focus in on, and the same one that I can’t seem to let go of. We did nothing but flirt and circle around each other before his accident. He always seemed to have a tall, lanky blonde wrapped around him. There is no way that he would be into me. Not to say that I am not gorgeous, because I know that I’m not hard on the eyes, and I love every inch of myself, but I damn sure am not a size two. And I sure don’t have that Barbie doll look going for me, I’m a nurse, and most of the time I wear blood and vomit on my scrubs. Meaning, I'm without a question, not his go-to type.
Don’t get me wrong, I know that he would sleep with me, and even keep me around when he doesn’t have someone else to warm his bed. He’s a man, a biker, after all, and they love anything with a set of tits. The one thing I absolutely refuse to be again, is a dirty secret—for any man. They will either love me and be proud to do so, or they can take a fucking hike off the side of a cliff—without a bungee cord or a life raft.
Pulling up to the hospital, I put my car in park, and pull the keys from the ignition. I step out, taking a steadying breath to get control of my nerves. When I feel as if I can control my overwrought emotions, I go in the main entrance avoiding the ER as well as all the people waiting inside. When the elevator opens on the ICU floor, I’m met with a wall of leather. My heart rate spikes and my head swims with some of my deepest darkest moments. I stand there just looking at them, not seeing or hearing anything going on around me. As the door starts to close, one of the guys turns to me, and my lungs finally release, letting go of the grip on my much-needed oxygen.
“Riley? Are you okay?” Pretty Boy inquires.
“I’m-I’m-I’m good.” Is all I get out of my mouth before the doors ding, and fully close.
Reaching out, I push the button to reopen them, only I’m a second too late, and I’m headed down to the first floor. Growling in frustration I push the button to go back up. Readying myself for the wall of leather, I smooth my sundress down and place a smile on my face. The doors open and to my surprise the only one standing there is Pretty Boy smiling wide.
“I thought I would free up some space for you, Riles.” When he calls me, the smile on my face turns genuine.
“Well, aren't you a gentleman?” I wink.
“That, Riles, is not what I am. What I am, is a man that knows when a woman needs time and a little space.”
Thinking back to Candy, the few times I’ve seen her, I can imagine that he does, in fact, know how to read that emotion on someone’s face.
“Well, thank you either way. Can I ask one more favor?” I pester, hoping he doesn’t think I’m imposing.
“You can ask. Doesn’t mean I can do it for you.” Pretty Boy shrugs, looking like a small boy.
“Can you tell me who all is in there with him? I just need to know what I’m walking into,” I convey, returning his shrug.
“Prez, Torch, Razor, and Duck, along with their old ladies. I can ask them to step—” waving a hand, I cut him off before he can finish speaking his thoughts.
“No, I would never disrespect them enough to ask them to leave. I just wanted to be prepared for it.” I chuckle, trying to play it off.
“One day, I will understand what that means. Why it is you’re always trying to be prepared .” Pretty Boy’s thoughtful tone tells me that he will figure it out… eventually.
I make a mental note to be more cautious of what I say and do around him. Having these guys dig into my past would mean me never being allowed anywhere close to them again. I stop walking as that thought feels like a punch to the gut. Getting more involved with these guys than I already am, is bad for me, and for them. For me, because they could see me as a spy, and my dad and brother would see it as complete disrespect —disrespecting them is the last thing anyone with their sanity intact would ever want to do.
“I don’t think I should go in there. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” I turn to leave when I hear my name being called.
“Riley. Oh, thank God. I think this man is about ready to take people out wanting to know where you are,” Lil’ Red says.
Sighing, I turn to her knowing that there is no way out of it now. As I make my way to her, her smile grows across her cheeks. When I get close to her, she pulls me into a tight hug. I squeeze her closely, needing the comfort of somebody I trust.
“Well, damn. Are you going to let her in or not?” Vixen asks, her voice carrying from the room.
We both burst out laughing. That woman says whatever comes to her and it’s one of the many things we love about her.
“Well, maybe I'll keep her to myself,” Lil’ Red sasses with her hip jutted to the right.
Out of nowhere, his raspy voice slides down my spine. “Is she here? I’d know that laugh anywhere.”
My pussy clenches at the need permeating from his gravelly voice. This is not good. My decision to leave settles more firmly in my mind. I swore when I left my dad and brother’s club that I would never find myself tied to another one. This one may be different, but it’s still a club. Club means you sit quietly, look, and if nothing else, you do not disrespect a brother for any reason. I also learned that saying, “No”, isn’t always the best option.
“She’s fucking here,” Vix declares, bellowing.
I step my way into the room, focusing directly on the man in the bed, so as not to have a complete breakdown with everyone in the room. I move my eyes up the bed taking in the external fixation device on his right leg. It’s bruised, swollen, and covered in road rash scares. I continue my perusal of him looking over his hard chest with one side that is covered in partially healed abrasions. I finally become brave enough to meet his eyes.
Our eyes clash, and my body moves without thought. Making it to his bedside, we don’t say a word, just watch each other. I open my mouth to try and speak, only before I can get a word out of my dry throat, he beats me to it.
“What took you so long?” He rasps out the question.
Not liking the tone and accusation in his voice, I place my hand on my hip, and in a snarky tone say, “I had things to take care of. I got here as soon as I could.”
He narrows his eyes at me, and asks, “What plans?”
“Plans that are none of your business.” I decide to turn the conversation away from me and onto him. Swiftly, I go into nurse mode. “Tell me how you’re feeling? Not the bullshit answer you give everyone else, the truth, Flyboy.”
“Answer my question first. What were you doing?” he spits out while he continues to stare at me.
“Have the doctors been in? What have they said about your prognosis?” I proceed, ignoring his questions. What I was doing is truly none of his business.
“I don’t fucking know. There’s been so many people in and out of this room today, I can’t tell you who the fuck anyone is as opposed to the next person,” he snaps, nearly shouting at me.
I take a step back before leveling my own fierce glare on him. “Let’s start with this. One, you will not speak to me like that. Second, I have no idea who or what has been in here. Third, If that is how you are going to choose to speak to me, or others, we can leave your ass laying right here in this bed—alone.”
We just stare at each other without saying a word. I can feel the frustrated energy zapping between us. It takes everything I have to not back down from him. It was then that I finally snapped out of it and found my inner strength.
I will not hide or back down from any man, for any reason, going forward. I will stand my ground, and not allow another person to walk all over me, or cause me to feel less than what I am. It’s time to reclaim my self-respect.