Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
“Fuck’s sake!” Grease wrenched the door open and marched out of the room.
“That’s going to be really useful for when I want him to sod off,” Micro said with a chuckle, leaning back in his seat, and checking his phone again.
“We’ll go look around some more, Pres, thanks for your time. No word on Soph yet?” It was a moot question, because if there was news, we’d know it. Still, he shook his head, and eyed his phone intensely.
“Might ring her though, and just check she’s good. Grace is spending time with her when I’m not there, but you know… I feel like I should keep checking.”
I stood up, gesturing to Henley to do the same, and he did, leaning forward to shake Micro’s hand again. I liked his manners. They’d go a long way with me, since most of the club were more likely to spit on their palm before they did such a thing.
“We’ll leave you in peace, man, but keep us posted.”
“Nice to meet you, Henley. Thanks for showing an interest in the club.”
Caroline
BY THE TIME I reached mum’s house, I was started to feel overwhelmed by the pressure I suddenly felt on me to be something I didn’t know how to be.
It wasn’t about not knowing how to be a woman, or a woman in love.
It was about trying to fit into a world I didn’t know or understand.
It was about courage, and stepping outside of comfort zones I’d spent my life hiding in, because anything more than that was just too much to cope with, or process.
More than anything, it was about not letting Harley down. About showing him that I could be more than I’d been so far. That I could be normal. He kept telling me that normal didn’t exist, or wasn’t something to try and conform to, but everyone else managed it, so why couldn’t I?
“Are you coming in, love?” I realised I’d slowed to a crawl halfway along the path to mum’s house, and she was on her doorstep, watching me worriedly.
I tried shaking off my weird mood, and headed for her, the smile on my face feeling frozen in place, or carved into flesh that was resisting it even now.
“What’s happened, sweetie? Come and talk to mum.” I let mum guide me inside her house, the warmth, and familiar scents of her perfume, and linen air fresheners beginning to form a little well of calm right at my centre. All I had to do was keep filling it up until I felt like myself again.
“Sit down here, love. V, please make some tea.” I heard a brief grumble from my cousin, but she disappeared to do as she was told.
“Caroline, take a deep breath, love. Mum’s here.”
She squeezed my hand as she sat beside me, and I forced myself to take a slow breath, and then another, trying to focus on her instead of the breaths, so I didn’t monitor them so intently that I’d over-breathe.
“Did something happen?”
“Did that fucker hurt you? I’ll braise his fucking balls for him!” V was standing aggressively in the doorway, her fists clenched, and her dark eyes practically blazing.
“Braise his…” mum trailed off and looked at me with wide eyes, and suddenly I was giggling. How the hell was I giggling right now? Maybe I’d truly lost my mind after all.
“Dammit, C, I’m serious!”
That just made it worse! My giggles became full on belly laughs, and the more I laughed, the more mum laughed, and the more she laughed, well, you get the point.
V finally broke down and laughed with us, and that seemed to break the spell I’d been under.
Once she’d dragged her still giggling butt into the kitchen to finish the tea, and we sat together, huddled on the sofa, I managed to find the words.
“I’m in love with Harley,” I said first, gaining a pleased sigh from mum, and a low growl of pent-up frustration from V.
“You didn’t seem in love when you wandered in here like a zombie!” She pointed out, and I sighed.
“It’s not… there are complications, that’s all. I love him, and he loves me. We want to be together, but… he’s a biker…”
“Is he violent?” Mum asked next, a wariness settling into her gaze as she took my hand again and squeezed it gently.
“My god, no! Not to me, anyway. If a guy scares me or upsets me, they get to see that side of him, but never me.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” V protested, but mum waved a hand at her to shut up.
“He’s good to you?” I nodded, and mum continued, “So what’s the problem, love? This sounds like everything you’ve always wished for. He’s good to you, he’s protective, he has his own business, I mean, all I’m hearing is good things.”
“Biker club, Aunty Pam,” V pointed out, and I sighed.
“They’re not the bad kind, they’re really not. Sure, they’re noisy, and boisterous, and inappropriate, but they’re also good. Do you know their Club President hushed an entire party of theirs, just so I could pass by without being overwhelmed?”
They both looked suitably impressed, so I continued.
“Two of the old ladies walked in front of me as a barrier, while Harley guided me through the place, past all these suddenly quieter guys. It was… none of them judged me for it. There was no nastiness, or frustration from anyone. Just quiet respect. I’ve never had that. Not from people I don’t know well.”
“Not understanding why you came here like this then… oh god, does he like something weird and kinky in bed or something? Toe sucking? Peeing on each other?”
“Victoria!” Mum gasped, swatting at her over my lap, as she giggled.
“No! Nothing like that. He’s… he’s wonderful. It’s just, if we’re together, then I’m his old lady. That’s how it works. Biker wives or girlfriends, when it’s serious, they become their old ladies.”
“Old before me, I like it,” V murmured, so I accidentally on purpose nudged her with my elbow.
“Explain why that’s bad, love,” mum suggested, and I sighed.
“Tattoos, mum. Part of the old lady process is a tattoo. He gets one, and I get one. A tattoo!”
V giggled, dragging the shoulder of her sweater down, to show off a dainty Chinese symbol on her shoulder.
“They’re not so bad, babe. They scratch a bit, but they’re not that bad.”
“I gather it’s more elaborate than that one.”
“Is it a dealbreaker, love? If you can’t have the tattoo, does that mean you can’t be together? Is it really that arbitrary?”
I shook my head, and I know that confused them as much as it had me.
“He was so sweet. He was saying things like the tattoo didn’t matter, and I’d be his old lady no matter what, but… I could see it hurt him. I could see that he really wanted to see his name on me like-”
“His name?!?! Like claiming ownership of you? What a fucking barbarian! Is this what bikers are like?”
Mum shushed V again, but she was still muttering to herself about men being assholes, and wanting to claim holes, and all sorts. I tuned her out, because I had to resolve this.
“If he says it’s okay, love, I’m sure he means it.”
“But I want to be able to give this to him! He gives me so much! He does so much to keep me safe, and happy, and loved. Why can’t I give him this one thing?! Am I really so pathetic that I can’t manage a damn tattoo?”
V sighed, sounding sad rather than angry at this point, and that brought our attention to her.
“This is the thing with us women when we’re in love.
We want what we want, but we want what they want more sometimes, and that makes us do stupid things.
It makes us give up more than we want to.
It makes us trust when we shouldn’t, and it makes us doubt ourselves, when we realise we’re being played.
Those love hormones are deadly, because once you’re under their power, you’re pretty much screwed.
I guess the only real question here is this…
you want to give him this huge thing that’d be such a struggle for you…
but would he do the same if things were reversed?
Would he put himself in a situation that felt unsafe to him, or unpleasant, just to make you happy? ”
Huh. Was it really that simple?