Chapter Twenty-Six
Haizley
This wasn’t supposed to be happening. When I moved into the clubhouse for Aspen, I figured I would help her adjust and then go back to my own home. It had been a week, and I was still here.
What was worse was that Gunner had just offered me exactly what I wanted. But I couldn’t take it. And I didn’t know why.
Biting my lip, I stared at him. He casually sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. His long, thick cock nestled between his legs that were stretched out in front of him. His arms crossed over his chest.
Why was he torturing me?
I stood there in my indecision. Naked. My clothes mocked me from the bed where Gunner had left them. What was the right answer? We barely knew each other.
“Why me, Gunner?”
“Because my soul craves yours.”
Dropping my head back, I stared at the ceiling, trying desperately not to release the tears threatening to fall.
“You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
He still hadn’t moved from the bed. He sat there like a statue of a Greek God. Or a Viking. Or a freaking Marvel character. He was too perfect. Too hot. And when he said things like ‘my soul craves yours,’ it did things to my insides.
Namely, my heart.
It made me want things I had given up searching for.
Like a family.
I knew I was still young. I wasn’t even thirty yet. But when you had been doing everything for yourself and others since you were sixteen, it felt like I had already lived a lifetime.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Picking up my clothing, I rushed into the bathroom and got dressed.
Opening the door and stepping back into the room, Gunner sat in the same place, watching me. Disappointment evident on his face.
“Gunner...”
“Just go, Haizley.”
With a heavy breath, I opened the door and looked back over my shoulder. His eyes, which were still on me, said everything he wouldn’t. He wanted me to stay. But he wouldn’t force me. He wanted me to make the choice.
He didn’t understand I was tired of making the choices. I was tired of always being the one to choose. I started making my own decisions at an age when I was far too young to do so. I’d been forced to grow up long before I was ready.
If I was forced to make my own decision, it would always be the safe choice.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated with a sigh and then walked out on him.
Returning to my room, I began to pack.
I would stay tonight.
Tomorrow, I would leave.
After a fitful night’s sleep, I lay in the bed I had occupied since that first night, with my eyes closed, and cried. Today was it. It was time to go home.
Aspen was doing remarkably well. She felt safe here, and King had said she could stay as long as she needed to. He suggested she stay until they found Greg. Knowing he had broken in once already meant there was a strong likelihood he would do it again. She would be safe here.
I wasn’t.
I was at risk of being broken.
The clubhouse had given me a glimpse of what a family felt like. A peek into how it felt to have someone stand in your corner. Someone to stand at your back and not just protect you but hold you up when you broke.
That was what I wanted.
Gunner gave me the impression that was what he was offering. But was it real? And if it was, how long would it last?
When I was ten my parents took me on a vacation in Rhode Island. I had never seen the ocean. It was incredible. Standing on the edge of the beach as the water raced forward and back with the tide. The water crashed over my legs, then pulled the sand from under my feet when it swept back out.
I had never experienced something so strong, so unbridled. The ocean had no rules. No choices to make. It simply did what the moon told it to do.
Afterwards, we strolled around a small seaside town. There was an old carousel, and while my mother shopped, my father lifted me on to a wooden horse. Before he walked away, he pointed to something sticking out from the wall.
“Reach for the brass ring, Haizley. As you spin around, lean out and grab one. Not everyone is successful, but I know you can do it.”
So, I did.
The carousel carried me around three times before I finally leaned out far enough to reach the ring and hook my finger around it. My dad cheered and clapped, telling me he knew I could do it. I had never seen him so excited.
I protected that ring like it was made of gold instead of brass. Carried it with me everywhere.
Until it was gone.
I never knew where I had lost it. Maybe in the hotel we stayed in, maybe in the sand we built castles in, or maybe in the ocean where we rode the waves. I cried the whole way home.
The point was, I didn’t care for it enough.
And consequently, I lost it.
When I was sixteen, I wanted to go to a party. I argued with my parents for days. They refused to let me go because there would be no parents there, making sure we made the right choices.
We were teenagers. It was a rite of passage to make the wrong choices. But my parents didn’t see it that way. They insisted it was their job to make sure I made the right choices.
I told them I hated them; said they were ruining my life. I believed I was old enough at the ripe old age of sixteen to make my own decisions.
I didn’t care enough about their opinions and their direction, and I lost it. I made my own decisions from that point forward. Always the right decision. Always weighing the good against the bad. Never taking a risk.
Never again did I reach out for that brass ring as the earth spun me around.
I wanted to. I wanted to reach out and take Gunner at his word.
My soul craves yours.
His soul called out to me. It had from the first time I laid eyes on him when I came back to town. All I had to do was reach out and grab hold of him. But if I did that, I would lose him.
It happened every time.
As a therapist, I knew my theory was irrational. I didn’t need my own therapist to tell me that. The problem was, I knew what I would tell a patient who came to me with these same ideas. Knowing your thoughts were irrational and actually being able to think beyond them were two entirely different things. I was too close to the situation. I knew all the excuses and reminded myself about them every day.
Maybe I did need my own therapist. But what would they tell me that I didn’t already know? I had two options: shit or get off the pot.
I chose to get off the pot.
Was it healthy? Not even a little bit.
Was I still going to do it? Abso-freakin-lutely.
I would take the easy way out.
Like I always did.
Now that my pep talk was over, I rose from the bed and took a shower. After packing up the rest of my belongings, I left the bags by the door. I would come get them after I spoke to Aspen.
As I made my way to the main room, I prayed Gunner had left for the shop already. I purposely stayed in bed longer than normal, hoping I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye after the way I’d left.
Walking into the kitchen, I made a cup of coffee. Why this wasn’t in the main room, I wasn’t sure. Seeing as the food was always set up buffet style, you would think the coffee maker would be in the main room as well.
Searching the room for Aspen, I was surprised not to see her or Diesel.
“She took a walk outside.”
Startled at the voice, I turned to King. “That’s good.”
“It is,” he agreed. “It will make your decision easier.”
“It will.” This time I agreed with him.
Not waiting for him to respond, I moved to a table and sat down. A moment later, a plate was placed in front of me. When I looked up into the eyes of the man I walked away from last night, I expected to see anger. Contempt maybe.
I saw neither. In fact, I didn’t see any emotion at all. His face was a mask of indifference. Yet, he still made me a plate.
“Eat.”
That was all he said. He didn’t wait to see if I would push the plate away. He walked to the front door and left. And I sat there, wanting to cry. I had lost him. Like I knew I would.
I wasn’t sure which would have been worse. Having him and losing him or losing him before I actually had him.
Now I would never know.
Aspen entered the clubhouse just as I was finishing my breakfast. She had a smile on her face as Diesel tromped behind her.
Seeing her smile warmed my heart. It was what I needed to feel good about my decision. She had been in the main room with all these men, without me. She had made the decision herself to go for a walk around the grounds, without me. She was ready to begin building her life back up, without me.
“Morning,” she greeted.
“Good morning, Aspen. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you came down.”
“That’s ok. I can’t expect you to be there forever, right? Besides, I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep with the way Gunner carried you out of here over his shoulder.” She waggled her eyebrows at me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to make the scared girl disappear overnight.
“No, it wasn’t like that. We talked. There is nothing between Gunner and I.”
“Why not? I wouldn’t turn down spending the night with a hot biker. Well, I mean, eventually. If I’m ever ready for that again.”
There she was. Aspen was hiding behind her smile. No, not hiding. Pretending. It was part of the process. Eventually, a traumatized patient made a choice to smile, even when they didn’t feel like it. Adopting a fake-it-until-you-make-it persona.
“It’s ok to feel attraction, Aspen. Your healing is on your timeline, no one else’s. There is no right or wrong time to let go and move on.”
“I know. I’m just not sure I’m ready for anything other than appreciating from a far.”
“And that is perfectly acceptable.”
Aspen nodded her acceptance, and her shoulders relaxed.
“Aspen, I am going to move back home today.”
Her shoulders dropped further, and she released a heavy breath. “I figured you might.”
“Are you ready to be here without me the whole day? I’ll still come by for your sessions. For the time being, I can come earlier or later, and I can hang out with you and the girls as well. Like we have done while I lived here. Until you are sure you’ve settled.”
“So, we can be friends? Not just therapist and patient?” she asked quietly.
I reached over, covering her hand with mine. “Of course.”
“Ok.” She looked around the room as though she were searching for someone. Following her gaze, I saw Banshee sitting at the bar, talking with Brandy. The two of them had their heads close together like they were conspiring. I had noticed they often sat at the bar together in the mornings, talking. All at once, Banshee threw his head back and laughed. Aspen exhaled a sigh and turned back to me.
“He’s very handsome,” I observed.
“Yea,” she agreed. Shaking her head, she inhaled deeply and asked, “Do you need help with your bags?”
“No, I only have two. Would you like to have your sessions in the morning or the evening?”
Aspen glanced back at the bar and then answered, “I think mornings would be best.”
“Ok, let’s get to it then.”