Chapter 3
Hodge
I walk out of the store, minding my own fucking business, when I see some asshole has a girl shoved up against the wall of the building next to me.
The thought hits me to ignore it, but when she screams, I lose it.
I drop my bags and turn on my heel, rushing toward them.
When I reach them, I grab the back of his shirt and jerk him away from her.
“Keep your fuckin’ hands off women,” I growl as I pull back and punch him in the face.
He stumbles back before righting himself and coming back toward me.
I smirk and welcome it. He rushes me, and his fist lands on my eye.
I blink rapidly before chuckling and going back after him.
This time, he doesn’t get shit but an ass beating from me.
I don’t give him any space to do anything else.
I roar as I beat the hell out of him, only to be pulled off by someone. I’m about to spin around and hit them next when I see it’s a cop.
“Oh fuck,” I grumble under my breath.
“Fuck is right. Hands behind your back,” he orders before yanking my hands behind my back and putting the cuffs on. The asshole on the ground drags his ass up, holding his face as he stumbles around trying to get his bearings.
“He started it!” the woman yells, pointing at him as I smirk at the asshole.
“I want to press charges,” the asshole whines. I laugh louder now. Let him press charges. Let him see how far he gets with that shit. No one gives a shit about him.
“Press them, you ugly motherfucker,” I taunt him when the cop yanks on my cuffs. Not like I give a shit.
“He didn’t do shit. He was helping me,” the woman chimes in.
“He attacked me,” the man cries. It takes forever for another unit to arrive and handle this shit.
Me? I’m released without another word and sent on my way, thanks to whatever it is she said.
I told them I didn’t want to press charges, although they might want to speak with the girl to determine what happened to her.
I flashed one last look at the woman as tears fell down her cheeks and the cops talked to her man. Her eyes met mine for the briefest of seconds, and I gave her a head nod. She didn’t smile, she didn’t nod, she didn’t do anything but look defeated.
I grab my shit off the ground and carry it to my bike.
I slide the bags into the saddlebags and then grab my helmet, pulling it on as I climb onto my bike.
I rev the engine as I pull out of the parking lot, passing the cops and the couple.
She looks up, her eyes finding mine as I roll out of the parking lot.
There’s a longing, pleading look in her eyes.
One I haven’t seen in a very long time, and just the sight of it causes my stomach to churn.
Memories flash in front of my eyes, breaking my heart, my whole fucking soul.
I don’t hear the horn. I don’t see the car.
All I see is them. The wreckage. The mess.
The look in her eyes. Before I know what’s happening, I hear screams as I’m thrown from the bike.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion after that.
Hitting the pavement, my head bounces off it, my vision blurring.
Then I hear it. Someone is calling my name. I try to pry my eyes open, but I don’t want to. I can see them. They’re right there. So close I could fucking touch them if only I could reach out. I try to lift my hand, but it drops back to the ground, lifeless.
“Baby, please,” I mumble as my head spins and the vision begins to blur.
“Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?” I hear someone else. Who the hell is that?
“Get the fuck away from that fucker,” someone else, a man, yells.
“Fuck off! He’s hurt!”
“I don’t give a shit,” the man’s voice said again. I try once more to lift my hand, but it doesn’t work. I hear sirens off in the distance, slowly getting closer. My body feels heavy, like I can’t lift anything.
“You’re going to be okay,” I hear that woman’s voice once more. Her hand wraps around mine and gives it a slight squeeze, trying to reassure me that everything is going to be okay. “The ambulance is here,” she says once more.
I can vaguely hear people talking and moving around me, but it’s her. The woman who’s holding my hand. She doesn’t let go, even telling the paramedics to fuck off when they tell her to move. If I could smile, I would.
I can feel myself being lifted off the ground and placed onto something as my head pounds and spins, but that constant pressure on my hand is what’s keeping me grounded right now because if she lets go, I might get lost. I might never come back again.
And maybe that’s what’s best. Maybe that’s what’s needed.
What if I let go? What if I decide to leave this earth and be with them? What then?
Slowly, I begin to relax how our hands are intertwined, but she doesn’t let me.
“You don’t let go. You don’t get to leave yet,” she snaps at me. Instead of overthinking it, I tighten my fingers back around hers and hold on as we ride in the ambulance.
It doesn’t take long for us to reach the hospital when I feel like I’m going to fucking throw up. Thankfully, the paramedics removed my helmet, but when I tried to open my eyes, it felt like they were going to fall out of my head.
“You’re about to hear a lot of things happening in a very short amount of time. Try to stay calm,” I hear another female say. That’s when the hand that had been holding mine releases, and I’m left alone.