Chapter 5
It has been another two weeks since I last saw Travis—two weeks of restless nights haunted by the same nightmare that only comes when I’m stressed.
Jeremy’s face as he smiled at me, pulling that trigger.
Then, the image I created all on my own, of him ending his own life.
He did end it, which I found out weeks later.
The coward shot me, thinking he had killed me, then ended his own miserable existence.
My therapist said I created a vision of that in my head, and now that vision haunts me every single time life gets hard.
Today, I wake up in a cold sweat, my hands shaking and my body on high alert.
It takes me a moment to remind myself it’s just a dream.
I swing my legs out of bed. My shirt is damp with sweat.
In the living room, Reagan is already at her laptop, scanning job sites.
She decided to stay here with me, at least until I figure out if I want to go home to the city or start my life here again.
I should just go back, but something is keeping me firmly in place.
That something is Travis, even though he made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with me.
I pad into the bathroom, wash my face, and stare in the mirror.
Chief has been good enough to let us stay here for as long as we want, but that means being closer to where Travis has now returned home.
I choose not to think about the fact that I am very likely to run into him sooner rather than later.
I tie my hair up, then go back out into the living room just as Reagan closes her laptop with a huff.
“Morning,” she says, smiling, before it quickly turns to a frown. “Girl, you look like hell.”
“Yeah, I didn’t sleep the best. You know how it gets when I am stressed...”
“Nightmares?”
“Always the same one.”
She nods, pushing to her feet. “Well, let’s take your mind off it. What are your plans for the day?”
“I have no idea. I guess I need to call my boss and see how much longer she is willing to let me stay before I decide. Now you’re thinking of staying, I don’t know what to do...”
Reagan walks over, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t worry about what I am doing. You need to make the decision that feels right to you, honey.”
“Yeah,” I exhale. “Maybe I should just go back. Lord knows that’s what Travis wants.”
She snorts. “Travis is full of it. Just give it some time, yeah? Want to go shopping today? Or apartment hunting? Maybe if I get a cute apartment, you will decide to stay with me.”
I laugh. “Not a bad idea. Let me find Chief first, I need to ask him a question.”
She claps. “I’ll get changed.”
I wait for Reagan to get changed, then we head out to the MC compound where everyone is already busy working on a transport company’s trucks.
I don’t bother asking why they would be working on a fleet of trucks, because I have no doubt it includes transporting very illegal things.
We are about to round the corner into the main building when shouting distracts us.
Reagan frowns, and as we turn, I see Travis standing by the entrance, shirtless, waving his hands at an older woman who looks less than impressed.
She is mid-sentence when I catch the drift of their argument.
The older woman, hair pulled into a tight bun, points a finger with stunning accuracy at Travis’s bare chest. “You want to see Amber, you come sober,” she spits.
“That’s the condition, Travis. You got it?
Prove to the court you’re not a fuckup, or you can rot in hell before you lay your hands on my granddaughter—”
He throws up his hands, his voice a hiss. “Do not tell me my rights, Dolores.”
“Look at you,” she hisses at Travis. “Look at where you are living, with a bunch of bikers. You bring that around Amber and we’ll see who wins. This isn’t the life for her, you need to accept that and move on.”
Reagan winces and mutters, “Christ, she is rough.”
I step closer, feeling the overwhelming need to pull this up before Travis does something he will regret. He is already vibrating, fists shaking against his sides like he’s holding them back from breaking something. He sees me, and his eyes narrow with anger, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but maybe you should walk away for now, Trav,” I say gently, voice low. “This isn’t going to help you.”
He glares at me, eyes flicking up and down like I’ve betrayed him again in some way. “Do not come in here and act like you have any fuckin’ idea what’s going on. You don’t.”
He turns and charges away, boots grinding over the gravel.
Dolores turns to me and Reagan, her features reset and her face relaxes just a little.
I wonder if the front is because she fears Travis, or maybe she is just an old woman with a backbone.
“Sorry you had to hear that,” she says. “But he needs to get his act together if he wants to see Amber again. Or ever.”
“Sorry, who are you?” Reagan asks, never holding anything back.
I love her for that.
“I’m her grandmother. I loved my daughter, for all her faults, but she went down a dark path and lost her life, and I’ll be damned if I let Amber go down the same.
It took me so long to get her out of that system, and now he wants back in her life.
” Dolores stands up straighter, taking a long pause.
“If he really wants her, he will remain clean for six months, otherwise, I will fight to make sure she never sees him again. Not to mention,” she waves a hand around, “he won’t bring her here. ”
That offends me a little. “What’s wrong with this place?” I ask, straightening now, too.
“It’s full of bikers, sex, and drugs. It is no place for a child.”
“I grew up here just fine,” I grind out.
Dolores looks me up and down, and then smiles in a way that makes it feel like a lightning bolt rips through me. “Oh, and you’re telling me that you have had no problems in your life? Save it for someone who believes you, girly.”
She turns and walks out, after having her say.
We watch her drive off until the taillights disappear.
“What a bitch,” Reagan snaps.
“Maybe she’s right,” I murmur, as much as I hate admitting it. “Look at how things went for me. Maybe it is best to keep Amber away. I didn’t know Travis wasn’t clean again...”
Reagan frowns. “No, that’s not a good thing. Explains his bad mood.”
Everything inside me is screaming that I should just turn around and go home, to leave him to his life and his problems, but my heart is begging me to stay, to help him fix this, to get his daughter back.
Goddammit.
Reagan nudges me with her elbow. “You doing okay?”
I shrug, but don’t answer. Travis is gone, I have no idea where. For a second I think about chasing him, but I know better. You don’t chase a wild thing when it’s bleeding, you don’t corner it, not unless you want it to hurt.
“Want to go grab that coffee?” she says. “Or maybe something stronger.”
“Yeah, I think I’m going to need it.”
“Me too, girl. Me too.”
Another week comes and goes, with almost no progress. I am starting to think my trip home was all for nothing.
Travis is nowhere to be seen.
He is avoiding me at all costs—how, I don’t know, but he is.
All I know is he’s out on the town every night, stumbling from one neon-lit bar to the next, chugging cheap beer, flirting with strangers, and not letting his body heal at all. I imagine him leaning over bar tops, grinning at bartenders and getting everything he wants.
I have tried to call him, but he refuses to answer.
In fact, I think he might have blocked my number.
It is only making me angrier.
He can’t avoid me forever.
For now, though, I am in desperate need of a distraction, so when Reagan tells me she wants to go sunbake on the beach all day, I jump at the chance.
So, here we lay, the sun searing down on us as if it wants to burn every trace of doubt from my bones.
Reagan and I have claimed a patch of sand that is close enough to people, but far enough that they aren’t bothering us, and it feels somewhat private.
We lay side by side on our striped towels, knees bent, toes wriggling in the warm sand.
The salt air tastes like home, and I forget just how much I have missed this.
The tide laps in a steady rhythm, the air just gusty enough to keep us cool.
Reagan, with her wind-tousled dark hair and perfect skin, closes her eyes and tilts her face toward the sun, soaking up rays for the coming winter.
I turn and prop myself on one elbow, about to ask her if she wants to get really, really drunk tonight when a group of guys stops in front of us.
I have already noticed them, of course, because they have been walking up and down like they own every inch of sand between the water and the boardwalk.
The one that is already smiling at me is tall, lean, bleach-blonde hair flickering in the sunlight.
He has olive skin that contrasts with his ice-blue eyes, which shine beneath dark lashes as he scans us.
When he grins, I can’t help but pay attention, because his teeth are so damned perfect and he looks like someone personally carved him out of stone. I push up, so I’m sitting.
“Hey ladies,” he murmurs, eyes traveling over me. Not in a creepy way, but in a way that lets me know very clearly that he is enjoying the view.
Considering it has been a while since I have had a man look at me like that, I’ll take it.
Reagan grins and arches a brow. “Well, hello, gentleman.”
The other two guys, who I have barely noticed as they just don’t stand out in comparison to the first one, grin.