Chapter 23
twenty-three
DARCY
As much as I’m trying to not let my run-in with Delia define my mood, Dane is working twice as hard to comfort me. Outside of the diner, he pulls me to the side of the building and holds me for the longest time. In his arms I feel safe from the outside world, guarded from all of its bad. I want to sob my heart out, to mourn my once close relationship with Delia, for the unconditional love of my parents that I’ll never receive.
I’ve wanted to see my sister again, but in a more private, controlled setting. Preferably one I instigated. I could feel random sets of eyes on me, ready to report back to my parents.
Of course, the one time I have my guard down in public I run into a member of my family. I’d been relaxed for once, feeling content, allowing myself to forget, my nerves calm.
I don’t want to allow the pain of the past to keep coming back. If I keep allowing it to hurt, I’ll never heal. I want to put that energy toward a healthier me. It’s that reasoning that spurs me to pull away from his warmth. Giving into weakness is easy to do when you have a man as strong as Dane.
Plastering on a smile, I say with fake bravado, “I’m okay.”
“So what’s the deal with your sister?”
A part of me disassociates, the emotions blocked by an invisible wall of hurt. “Delia’s just finishing up high school. She’s trying to kind of leave the easy way. Live in a dorm, get a job. She doesn’t understand yet they’ll never allow it.”
“But she wants to leave?”
“The last time I spoke to her, yes. Part of the reason I came back is so that I’ll be around when she’s ready.”
“You remember the exit I pulled over on the way to the club?”
I nod, “Yeah, it’s the one right after Bedico Bob’s Storage.”
“If you find yourself alone with Delia, tell her that when she’s ready to leave, park at that exit with the caution lights flashing. Come alone. Two of my brothers will show up, day or night. She only needs to tell them who she is, and they’ll bring her to the compound. No other details, understand?”
“The club will take her in?” I ask, my voice wobbly.
“We’d love nothing more.”
My chest squeezes tight, aching with what could be. “That’s amazing!”
I’ve never considered what would happen when Delia left. My focus was only on being here when she wanted out. My parents could come for her the same way they did with me. As much as I would want her to stay with me, she would need to be stashed somewhere.
He moves his palms to my lower back. “Those plans are up to Delia. The club can help, but she has to make the first move.”
“That first step is always the hardest,” I say with a huff. I realize now why I allowed myself to buy the fairy tale Seth was selling. I wanted someone with me when I made the tough decision to leave, so I didn’t feel completely alone in the world and unloved.
Delia won’t have that problem. The minute she turns eighteen, and is out from under my parents’ thumbs, I’ll be waiting with open arms.
As we start to move toward the truck, Dane wraps his arm around my neck. “You know, Dad and Linc blame themselves for you running away like you did. Said they should have known what was up with you since you worked for the club.”
“It’s not like they could have guessed my parents were trying to force me into marrying a guy they picked.”
Dane stops in his tracks. His grip on my waist tightens. He turns me to face him, nostrils flaring, something dangerous floating around him. His voice is deceptively calm when he asks, “ That’s why you left like you did? You were being forced to marry?” He spits out the last word like it was poison, his eyes alight with fury.
“That was a pretty big motivator,” I admit.
“And the guy knew you were reluctant?”
My mind wanders, back to being cornered in the kitchen at my parents’ house. Hungry eyes running down my body, and the whispered promise, “Many women learn to enjoy the benefits of marriage. We’ll take a honeymoon to give you time to adjust to your new life.”
“No, he thought I was nervous about having sex.”
“I want his name,” he growls out.
“Whose?” I ask.
“The asshole who thought you were his.”
I let out an ironic laugh. “He got a job with some oil company and works on a remote island in Alaska. Good luck finding him.”
* * *
If not for the Harley parked out front, you’d never guess that my new home belonged to the president of a one percenter motorcycle club. The yard is well tended with rows of gardenia bushes lining the path to a solid wood door that’s been painted black, the paint on the porch is fresh. The only thing that feels off is the lack of a welcome mat or potted plants near the door.
One of the company trucks is hooked up to a box trailer in the driveway, the back open. I’m relieved to notice it’s right behind my car. Piece of shit it may be, but it gets me from point A to point B for now.
“They’re already here?” I ask. We were up late last night, and it’s only around ten a.m.
“Folgers is ex-Army. No matter how little sleep he gets, he’s up at four in the morning,” Dane explains.
I glance into the trailer to bring a box inside but find it already empty. It probably only took one trip each to bring our meager belongings inside. My face warms at the thought. Our fast exit from Houston was difficult. Seth was still healing from a concussion he never explained, leaving me as the only driver, and my car couldn’t tow a trailer. We had to pack everything we owned inside my tiny Dodge Neon. It’s embarrassing for others to see how little I own in this world, even clothing. After a lifetime of wearing only ankle-length skirts, and then getting pregnant right away, I don’t have much.
Carrying my overnight bag, Dane lets us in without unlocking the door. “There’s a project bike in the garage, and the shed is full of random boxes,” he confesses. “I’ll move it all this weekend.”
“You don’t need to, I’ll park in the driveway.” He thinks I’m worried there’s a motorcycle in the garage? The fact that there’s extra space at all seems downright luxurious.
We have a safe home, finally. Someplace I don’t have to worry about waking up to random people on the couch or being forced to attend hours-long church services multiple times a week, brainwashing me into compliance.
Starting over in Houston was an air mattress in an empty apartment. I’d assumed beginning again would look similar. There’s basic furniture in Dane’s home— a bed, couch, coffee table, television. It’s more than a head start.
Placing our bags on the floor next to the entryway, Dane leads me down the hall with a hand on my lower back.
Laughing voices greet me as Dane swings open a guest bedroom door. From the base of a ladder, Sutton pouts, “Aww we were so close to being finished.”
Directly above her, Folgers stands on the second rung, mounting something to the ceiling. “Well, this part is done anyway.” Overhead there’s a camera, the lens pointed straight toward a grey baby crib. Its mattress is already covered in a white sheet with little black and orange motorcycles.
Sitting on a circular area rug, Meadow looks up from folding a stack of baby blankets.
“What’s all this?” I ask
“It took no time to bring in your stuff, so we started to put together all of Owen’s things,” Meadow says excitedly.
“Owen’s things?” I echo, stepping into the room.
There’s more than just his bassinet. My chest feels tight as I scan the room. Framed drawings of vintage motorcycles hang above the coordinating changing table. A dresser sits on the next wall, the top covered in little outfits on hangers. New ones, not the hand-me-downs from my friend Yolanda in Houston.
After a late night, they must have gotten up very early to accomplish this much. “Y’all did all this?”
Sutton smiles her sunshiny grin. “It was all sitting here waiting anyway. Thought we could make ourselves useful.”
“It was all stored here?” I clarify.
“Had it all waiting for when we got things settled,” Dane answers. “Figured regardless of where you moved to, Owen would need it.”
“Wait, you bought this days ago?” I ask again.
“It wasn’t that much trouble,” he grumbles
“Dane, it’s too much,” I protest.
“It’s my job to protect and care for you and Owen,” he insists. “This is the bare minimum to get started.”
After placing a peck on my temple, he lifts a chin in Folgers’ direction. “A word brother?” After they share a look, Folgers follows Dane out of the room, leaving the door slightly cracked.
After working for the club for a year, I’ve gotten used to private little meetings that will never be explained. Am I curious? Yes, of course, but it’s probably something not even on my radar. I’m too busy taking in the contents of the room to take much notice of yet another top secret biker pow-wow.
To say that Dane provided is a gross understatement. The laundry basket next to Meadow is filled with sleepers and onesies that are fresh from the dryer. A fancy stroller sits assembled in one corner, an infant swing next to it. The last item makes my heart squeeze again. Owen loved his swing, but I had to leave it in Houston.
“I have a stroller,” I say softly.
“Dane said he got one tall enough for him to push,” Sutton chirps in.
The nursery, put together in such a short time, looks like something from a magazine. There’s even cardboard books arranged on the dresser, and a tummy time playmat on the carpet next to us.
My emotions are still in hyperdrive after running into Delia. After feeling alone for so long, it’s overwhelming for people to care this much.
“I could have put it all together this weekend,” I say, taking a seat in the upholstered rocking chair.
“We wanted to,” Meadow says. “He needs something to go above the dresser I think.”
“I can’t believe Dane did all of this, hoping we’d be together,” I say disbelievingly.
“Hoping?” Meadow scoffs. “Haven’t you ever met a biker before? Determined is the word you’re looking for.”
“You didn’t stand a chance, whether you knew it or not,” Sutton says in a dreamy voice.
Happy tears start to fall, the devastation of a lost sibling replaced with the budding affection of a found family. For once I feel wanted for me.
“Thank you for doing all of this,” I say in a broken voice.
“We want you and Owen comfortable while you’re getting settled in,” Sutton says. “Having your own space will help.”
Clearing my throat I say, “I feel guilty you did all the moving without me.”
Meadow remarks with a smile, “That’s what we’re here for.”
Wiping away the tears, I move down to the carpet and sit across from Meadow. We share a warm look for a second until I pull out an extra crib sheet and start to fold with her.
Sutton joins us on the floor, and leans in to whisper, “Lemme tell you, the drama when Presh saw all this stuff!”
Oh gosh, surely she doesn’t think I’m a gold digger or burdening Dane…right? Heart squeezing tight I ask, “What happened?”
“So, last week I came over to clean but forgot my key. Presh comes over to let me in, notices bags from the baby store in the den and she freezes. Asked me what I knew, but I’m not going to be the one to tell her. So she calls Dane and has him come over.”
Meadow lifts her head. “Wait, is that what all that screaming was in the background when I called you?”
In a dramatic whisper, Sutton continues, “ I thought for sure she was going to have a stroke. Well, things got quiet so I thought they’d left. I walked out just in time for Odin to tell her it’s none of her business.”
“And what did Presh do?” I ask with a laugh. Presh may live in a land of men, but she doesn’t entertain their nonsense.
“She took off her shoe and started waving it around all crazy mad. Oooh, you should have seen Odin’s face. He started backtracking so fast. Not so brave once Presh got ahold of him. The second your name comes up, her mood instantly changes. She told him that it’s about time he settles down.”
I smile at the idea of Presh’s approval. I adore the woman.
Meadow keeps folding the stack of laundry next to her as she throws out, “Oh speaking of Presh, she wants to know if you’ll help at the Easter egg hunt. We need one more set of hands…”
Dane and Folgers have seemed to have disappeared, so it’s just us girls. We keep chatting while organizing Owen’s things, each pair of socks matched, coordinating outfits folded together. By the time they have to leave, I’ve agreed to work the next two fundraisers and call when I want a date night with Dane. As much as I like the company, it’s nice to be left in the quiet to put away the last random items. Everything was packed very quickly, the boxes of things sometimes randomly mixed, especially this one. Owen’s extra blankets are in a reusable shopping bag and labeled “nursery”. I’m excited when I unknot the polyester fabric and find the pre-baby bras I stored, hoping to be able to use again later. There’s no way most of them are fitting enough to wear all day, but maybe I can squeeze the girls into a pretty one just long enough for Dane to pull it off.
Preferably with his teeth.
With excited fingers, I start rummaging through looking for anything that may work. As my hand digs further into the bag, my finger slides along a cold hard piece of metal. What in the world? Afraid of cutting myself, I dump the bag out. A hunk of stainless steel thumps against the box. Brushing away a pale pink bra, I pick up the oval-shape. From the back, I can tell it’s a belt buckle—a fancy one. How did this end up here? Who wears these anymore? Flipping the buckle over only raises more questions. The serpent logo looks familiar somehow, the engraving still in great condition. Curved around the bottom in orange writing are the words “Sons of Perdition.” The name of the club in Houston that showed us our walking papers. This doesn’t belong to Seth. Maybe one of his biker friends left it at my apartment in Houston and it got mixed in somehow?
I’m tempted to throw it away, but for some reason, I toss it back in the reusable bag with all the bras (except the black lace one) and carry it all to the master bedroom.
While declaring his stuff was lying around, Dane forgot to mention his clothing. As I walk into a closet that’s bigger than my bedroom in Houston, I find one side is full with what must be the bulk of Dane’s wardrobe still hanging on one side. Leather, cotton tees and denim, some soft flannel. On a row of shelving, two pairs of biker boots are next to my ballet flats and sneakers. A row of helmets occupy the next row, all the thinner matte black ones. Last in the line is a larger cut helmet with padding to cover the ears. It’s black, but the pink decal makes it clear who this one is for. Three interlocking triangles, the symbol of Odin. The man’s making sure everyone knows I’m his with just a glance—from any angle.
After placing the bag of underclothes on the upper storage, I pull down the helmet. I trace the triangles with my finger, remembering how I discovered the significance of the symbol. I was curious because it’s on a lot of things Dane owns, but not any of the other guys. So, I went internet sleuthing like a teenage girl with a crush, wanting to know what it meant.
Dane’s voice rumbles from nearby, making me jump, “There’s pants for you, too, and boots.”
Placing the helmet back on the shelf, I turn around slowly. “You don’t have to do all that.”
“Yes, I do. Road rash is a bitch.”
Giving him a sly smile I ask, “So does that mean I get a cool vest like Presh and LaShawna?”
He slips a finger on each side of my hips through the belt loop of my jeans and pulls me to him. “It means I’m getting you in my property patch the minute I can get it in my hands. It takes a bit for it to come in after you order it.”
He places a soft kiss and pulls back. Something glitters in his eyes and his lips descend on mine, our tongues tangling together.
Corded muscles of his torso jump as I run my hands across his tan skin then wrap around his back. I let my body surrender to pleasure, loving the fingers he runs through my hair, the touch of a palm on my hip pulling me into a growing erection. He ends the kiss, crystal blue gaze smiling down at me, his chiseled features relaxed. He drops his hands with a reluctant sigh. “Gotta call Farm Boy back real quick. Do not leave this room.” He places a quick kiss on my lips, leaving me with a swat on my bottom.
I don’t feel neglected, even though he stepped out earlier for a while. He truly tries to give all of himself to me, or as much as he can, when we’re together. All of this is his job…it’s not like he’s ignoring me to play video games for hours on end.
As I turn to leave, getting one last look at its contents, it occurs to me that despite Dane’s insistence he lives elsewhere, it certainly appears to be the closet of a couple who are cohabitating.
Fuck.
The smile I’m wearing falls as I shut the door behind myself, my left eye starting to twitch.
Dane immediately picks up on my shift in mood when he walks back into the room. He clears his throat as I open up dresser drawers one by one finding them full of male clothing. He gives me a sheepish look. “I didn’t get around to emptying some of them for you.”
I roll my eyes heavenward, count to ten, and then point to the half full laundry hamper accusingly. “So, how much time exactly will you be spending here?”
He shrugs. Shrugs! “Figured you want to spend as much time together as we can. As I said before, club responsibilities will keep me away until things settle down.”
“And where do you shower?” I clip out like an accusation.
Dane saunters to me, his blue eyes twinkling with boyish charm. He stands with his legs spread, arms crossed over his body. Without a hint of defensiveness, he confesses, “The water pressure at the compound sucks, so I stop by here. It’ll give us a chance to wash each other's backs.”
Fuck, he’s being all cute and soft and sexy as hell with his hair falling around his face, even while I’m genuinely angry…okay frustrated with him. I throw my hands up in defeat. “So, technically, we’re living together and you’re just not home a lot?”
“I consider wherever you and Owen are as home base. If you’d picked another house, I’d be there just as often. Rented an apartment on your own, same. I want to be with you as much as I can.”
There he goes being sweet again.
My pulse quickens, sending a rush of warmth over my body as he leans in. I know I’m done for when he traces his nose up the sensitive spot on my neck. Goosebumps pebble my skin with anticipation as my body becomes aware of his scent, the erection digging into my belly, his lips so enticingly close to the tender spot on my collarbone that makes me weak. “Why do I even try with you?” I whimper, already being walked toward the bed.
My legs hit the mattress and I fall on my back. The warmth of Dane’s massive form covers mine, his beautiful hair falling into my face.
He dares to smirk, voice husky when he says, “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”