Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fury
I waited, but she never came to check on me. I stare up at the ceiling, occasionally checking the clock. Maybe she went after Nyx. Maybe Axel told her she could. Why the fuck can’t I just remember? I growl, hitting my fist into the mattress.
The door opens at exactly nine, and Xanthe saunters in looking fresh-faced as she places my tray on the bedside table. And suddenly, I feel a pang of jealousy. What if she did fuck Nyx? She certainly looks happier as she hums to herself while sorting my painkillers.
I push to sit, and she finally looks at me. “Good morning,” she says with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“No,” I grunt. Half my night was spent thinking about her, and the other half was picturing her and Nyx together.
“Shame. I can get you the sleeping tablets if you want them?” The last thing I want is to be back on the medication again after I’ve finally dropped to just a couple of painkillers. Deep down, I know I’d sleep better if she was beside me.
“Hangover?” I ask bitterly.
Her smile falters. “No.”
“Did you . . . sleep well?”
“Like a baby,” she replies, placing the pills in my hand and passing me the water. I throw them back without breaking eye contact. “Nyx?” I ask.
She frowns. “If you’re asking me if I fucked Nyx,” she snaps, placing her hand on her hip, “the answer is no.” She takes the water from me. “Despite you giving me permission .”
I can’t deny I’m relieved. “You like . . . him.”
“God, you’re such a prick,” she mutters, beginning to fold my clothes from last night and placing them in my drawers. “It’s not like you want me.”
“Mine,” I snap.
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t even remember, Reese.” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before running her hand over her tired face. “Look, I only moved in here because Donnie was looking for me, and he’s no longer a threat, so I’m going to move back into my place.”
My heart thumps heavily in my chest. I might not remember, but I know I don’t want her to leave. “No.”
“It’s not up for discussion,” she says sadly. “The doctor is coming to check on you later, and if everything’s okay, I’m going home. You don’t need me. You have your brothers to help.”
The door opens, and Axel comes in. “Morning,” he says, and Xanthe goes back to sorting my clothes. Jo appears in the doorway, and I wince. The timing is shit.
Xanthe turns just as Jo comes farther into the room, and her step falters. She inhales sharply, and I know she must have a million questions, but instead, she forces a smile. “I can see you have things to sort, so I’ll be off.” She avoids my eyes. “I’m meeting some friends for brunch, but Lexi is going to sort your lunchtime meds. I’ll catch you later.”
“Xanth,” I say, my tone pleading, but she waves her hand dismissively.
“The doctor’s coming at one. I’ll make sure I’m back for then.” And she rushes out.
Axel shifts uncomfortably. “Should I go talk to her?”
I shake my head. “She needs . . . space.”
Axel gives a stiff nod. “Whatever you say. I’ll let you talk.” And then he leaves.
I pat the edge of the bed, and Jo lowers to sit. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Tired. Con . . . fused.”
“Have you remembered anything?”
I nod. “Some things. Ripper said . . . he told . . . me.” She stares down at her hands in her lap, and I place mine over hers. “I’m sorry.”
When she looks up, there are tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve left you well alone, Fury. Things were so hard with him, and you were a breath of fresh air. I didn’t know he couldn’t have kids, and when I got pregnant, I thought things would get better if he thought it was his kid. Maybe he’d stop beating me and,” she sobs, “raping me.”
My heart aches for her as she sobs silently. “After I left,” I say.
She wipes her wet cheeks. “Things just got worse. He’d send in his men, one after the other . . .” She trails off. “He’d beat me until I was too terrified to move.”
“Jo,” I whisper.
“It’s okay,” she rushes to reassure me. “Axel gave me some money, and I’m going to stay with a friend. I can start my life again.”
Her words make me feel a little better, and I smile. She leans closer, kissing me on the cheek. “I don’t regret it,” she whispers. “If we had happened in another life, I think I could’ve loved you.” She stands. “Xanthe is a lucky woman. Treat her well, Fury.”
Xanthe
“I’m not sure this is the answer,” I say as Julianna tops up my wine glass.
“It’s a boozy brunch, didn’t I say?” she asks, laughing.
“You’ve been through a lot, and you deserve to unwind,” adds Jorja.
“I think I’m gonna move out of the clubhouse.”
“No,” says Julianna. “Don’t do that.”
“It was temporary,” I say. “I’m not even sure any of it would’ve happened had it not been for Donnie.”
“Don’t say that,” she whines. “You two are my favourite love story.”
“Love?” I scoff. “We’re not in love.”
“You forget we know you,” says Jorja. “Stop lying to yourself.”
I take a large gulp of wine. “It’s pointless, anyway. He clearly doesn’t feel the same.”
“Why are you so worried about making him remember?” asks Julianna.
“True love doesn’t burn out. He’ll fall in love all over again,” adds Jorja.
“If you stick around and show him how amazing you are,” Julianna finishes.
“I’ve made up my mind. I’m going home. If it’s true love like you say, it’ll happen anyway, whether I’m there or not.”
“You’re here drowning your sorrows with us while this Jo woman is with your man.”
The thought makes me sick. “He’s not my man. Not anymore.”
“Honestly, this self-pity doesn’t suit you,” says Jorja, and my mouth drops open.
“I’m having a moment here.”
“You literally went cold on him because he asked to use protection,” she states. “And I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”
I groan dramatically. “You don’t understand how he was before.”
“And shit’s changed,” says Jorja firmly. “But you haven’t. It must be so damn scary for him to wake up and have no idea what’s been happening in his life these last few months.”
I finish my glass of wine. “I came out to forget. Now, cheer me up instead of judging.”
Fury
I check my watch again. It’s been two minutes since I last looked, and the doctor smiles awkwardly. “Maybe just tell me,” suggests Jennie. “I’ll pass it on to his nurse.”
I want to scream. She knows damn well Xanthe is more than my nurse, but fuck, why the hell isn’t she here? Jennie was like a cat that got the cream the second she realised Xanthe wasn’t around, and I need someone here in case I forget what the doc tells me. The doctor is looking at me for confirmation, so I give a nod.
Minutes later, he smiles and holds out a hand for me to shake. I reach for it, realising I haven’t heard a thing he’s said. “It’s been a pleasure, and in the nicest possible way, let’s hope we don’t meet again.” He laughs at his own joke. “My colleague will be in touch to check in with you regarding any lasting damage.”
Jennie shows him out, and when she returns, I’m already out of bed. I’m over sitting around all day. I’ll never get better doing nothing.
“I know he said you’re on the mend, Fury, but I still don’t think you should rush into anything.”
“Xanthe?” I ask.
“I don’t know where she is,” she says and almost looks sorry for me.
I take my mobile from the bedside table and dial her number. What if something happened to her? My heartrate spikes at the thought. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a big girl.”
I roll my eyes and pass her, heading downstairs. The men are just coming out of church, and Grizz frowns when he sees me. “You okay?”
“Xanthe.”
“What, she isn’t back?” I shake my head. “Did she say where she was going?”
“Brunch,” I mutter, angry that I didn’t ask for details.
“Look, it’s only been a couple hours. She’ll be back.” He pats me on the shoulder, and the urge to snap his fingers is strong. I’m sick of patronising comments and sympathetic looks. I want her home now. As if my prayers are answered, the door opens and Xanthe stumbles in. She giggles, looking up in surprise at the bikers in the room.
“Aww, guys, is this my leaving party?” she slurs, and my blood boils. I was worried sick, and she was out getting drunk . . . again. She crashes against Nyx, throwing her arms around him and grinning like a fool. Nyx tries desperately to free himself, and she laughs harder. “Fury doesn’t care,” she whispers loudly enough for everyone to hear. “He said you could fuck me.”
The men move aside, and she spots me. Nyx steps away, and she stumbles again, almost falling to her knees. “I’m sorry, brother,” mutters Nyx, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
It’s the final straw. More apologies. More sympathy. I roar angrily with frustration, batting a chair to the side and sending it flying across the room. I just want to fucking remember. I sweep my hand across a table, sending glasses to the floor. Weeks of pent-up aggression burst from me, and each cry of anger leaves my throat raw. When Axel finally rushes me from behind and wraps his arms around me, holding my arms by my side, I look up to see absolute terror on Xanthe’s face. Her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide in shock. Tears are streaming down her face, but at least she doesn’t look at me with sympathy.
I pant heavily, and Axel loosens his grip, realising I have no more strength in me. The door opens, and Dianna enters, humming to herself. She looks at the mess before her, her eyes going around the room and taking in the utter shock on everyone’s faces, and then she places her bag on the floor and says, “Somebody put the kettle on. I’ll take it from here.”
“Mum, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Xanthe begins, but Dianna holds her hand up to stop her speaking.
“Everyone can leave. I’ll be fine with Reese.”
The men begin to file out. Axel asks her how she takes her tea then disappears into the kitchen. There’s just me, Xanthe, and Dianna remaining, and suddenly, all I want to do is cry. Fuck. I haven’t cried in such a long time. Not properly, anyway. Somehow, I can always turn it off.
“Xanthe, that includes you,” she says firmly.
Xanthe goes to pass me, and I take her wrist, pressing my thumb to her tattoo. “Mine,” I whisper. She doesn’t make eye contact, instead staring at the ground before pulling free and going upstairs.
“I can’t sit in this mess,” mutters Dianna, shaking her head. “Let’s clean it up.” She picks up a chair, and I take the sweeping brush that’s resting against the wall and begin to sweep the broken glass. My entire body aches, and my head thumps painfully. “Bursts of anger are normal with a brain injury,” she adds, sweeping some shards of glass from the table, “but this behaviour isn’t acceptable.” She busies herself with the cushions on the sofa, shaking each one out. “You’ve been through a lot, but lots of people have and they don’t smash things up.” I feel like a naughty schoolboy, and I almost smile. “I don’t know what you find so funny,” she mutters. “You know how I feel about violence.” She heads over to the bar and grabs a dustpan and the bin.
Axel returns holding a cup of tea. “I had to make it,” he says, looking confused. “There was no one around to do it.”
“Do you own this establishment?” Dianna asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says proudly.
“You’d better work out how much he owes for the damage.”
Axel grins, patting me on the back, “I’ll let him off. He ain’t the first brother to break sh- things,” he corrects before cursing. He leans in closer to me. “She clipped me around the ear when you were in hospital for swearing,” he whispers with a laugh. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything,” he offers before heading off.
Dianna holds the dustpan, waiting for me to sweep up the broken glass, then she pours it in the bin. “I thought I’d come and stay for a few weeks,” she announces, brushing her hands down her dress and heading for the couch. She pats the space beside her, and I join her. “I had a feeling Xanthe needed me, but maybe it was you?”
Coop wanders in, stopping when he lays his eyes on Dianna. A smile creeps over his face. “Well, hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.” She stands to shake his offered hand, and she’s equally as smiley. I roll my eyes.
“I’m Xanthe’s mother, Dianna.”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
I scoff, and Coop releases her hand. “I’ll leave you two alone. Just call if you need anything at all,” he adds.
“He seems charming,” she gushes, staring after him. I narrow my eyes, and she composes herself. “Do you remember the first night you came to us? It was late, and I’d had dinner waiting for you at six because the social worker said she’d get you there for then, only she went to get you and you’d run away. Mack said right then he didn’t think we’d be a good fit. We were already struggling with Xanthe’s behaviour.”
“You should have . . . listened to him.” The flow of my words feels better. Maybe the blowout was exactly what I needed.
She smirks. “I was never one to back down from a challenge, you know that.”
“You . . . did, though,” I remind her, “in the . . . end.”
She gives me a sad smile. “When you have your own children, you’ll understand it, especially if she’s a girl. I love every single child who came through my door, Reese. It wasn’t very often I wanted to hold on to them forever. But you,” she looks me in the eyes, “there was something about you.”
“It was an . . . act,” I say with a shrug. “I was . . . tired of being . . . moved on.”
She gives her head a knowing shake. “When you finally walked through my door, you looked at the roast dinner I’d set out for you, and I could see you wanted to smile. Instead, you said?—”
“That looks . . . like shit,” I cut in, and we both smile. “I was so . . . rude and so . . . ungrateful.”
“You were a teenage boy afraid of rejection. Any time we did anything nice, it was met with anger. And that wasn’t a reflection on you but how you’d been treated.” She places her hand in mine. “You soon settled down, and Mack realised he was wrong about you. You were good for Xanthe. You kept her on track.”
“I didn’t,” I protest.
“You did, Reese. Before you, she felt a little lost and got in with the wrong crowd. You made her see how bad they were for her. We started to see glimpses of our happy little girl again. You did that.”
I pull my hand free. “I fell in love . . . with her. I ruined it.”
“We ruined it, not you, not Xanthe.” She sighs heavily. “I think back to those days so much and I wish I’d never told Mack what I suspected. If I’d have just kept my mouth shut, you wouldn’t have been sent away.”
“We can’t change . . . the past,” I say.
“But we can change the future,” she declares. “Xanthe loves you so much.”
“She’s mad I . . . don’t remember,” I mutter.
“What is there to remember? You’d only just met back up really. You both just need to get back to that point.”
“How?” I ask. “I see how much . . . love she’s got for me, the way she . . . looks at me like . . . I’m her life, and I feel so . . .”