Chapter 5
Hodge
“Did you wanna sit your ass in jail?” My dad, Gunner, asks as he stands there with his hands on his hips, glaring at me. I smirk at him when Remy speaks.
“Or end up dead?”
“I didn’t die and I didn’t go to jail.”
“You could have, Hodge! Your sister is at the clubhouse freakin’ the fuck out over you,” my dad snaps at me. My smirk fades as I think about Kiki for a second. I’m sure hearing I was here after an accident really had her worrying.
“I’ll call her. I’m fine,” I tell them.
“You don’t look fine. You look like shit,” Locke adds, nodding toward me.
“Well, I might look it, but I’m fine. In fact, the Doc said I can go home,” I tell them when my dad laughs.
“No, the fuck he didn’t. He said he’s watchin’ your head for the next few days.”
“Like fuck he is. I’m not stayin’ here.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re not comin’ home until you’re cleared, Hodge. You hit your head for fuck’s sake.”
“Dad, really? You’re gonna make me sit in this shit hole for a few days?” I ask, glaring back at him.
“You’re goddamn right I am. Now get some rest,” he replies before turning and ushering the rest of the guys out of the room.
I flip them off as they go and lay my head back, blowing out a breath before grabbing my phone and texting my sister to let her know I’m good.
She texts me back immediately, mostly to yell at me, but also to tell me she loves me.
I smile at the phone before setting it down on the bed next to me and closing my eyes.
I don’t dream. I’m not sure why, but I do sleep. And when I wake up, I see her. I blink my eyes to make sure I’m actually seeing her sitting in the chair next to my bed. What the hell is she doing here? When did she get here?
I clear my throat, and she looks up from her phone and smiles at me. Then she reaches over and grabs the vase from the small table, showing me the flowers.
“I got you these,” she says softly.
“You got me flowers?”
“I wasn’t really sure what you got a man who was hurt. Flowers seemed universal,” she smirks, causing me to chuckle.
“Thank you. That was nice of you.”
“I saw all your friends in here, and I didn’t want to interrupt,” she says.
“How long have you been here?”
“A few hours. You were asleep when I came back with the flowers, so I waited.”
“You waited with me?” I ask her, not sure why she would do such a thing.
“Yeah. I can go,” she offers, setting the vase back on the table and standing.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Sit down, Kemah.” She immediately drops back into the chair and takes a deep breath before blowing it out. “Do you do this a lot?”
“What? Visit people?”
“Men, you just met. Men in accidents.”
“No. You’re actually my first,” she tells me, and for some reason, it makes me smile.
“He do that?” I ask, nodding toward the bruise on her neck. She quickly pulls her long brown hair over her shoulder, trying to cover the bruise, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen it now.
“No. It wasn’t him.”
“Who?”
“Does it matter? I came here to see you,” she retorts, licking her lips. I’m not sure what it is about her that’s calling to me right now, but there’s something. Maybe it’s the fact that she came back to see me.
“It kinda does matter, Kemah. I’ll fuckin’ kill whoever did it.” Her cheeks flush as she shakes her head and starts to stand once more. I don’t know why she keeps running, but this is it.
“Sit down.”
“No. I think it’s time for me to go. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she says as she starts for the door.
“I said sit down, Kemah.” This time, my tone is harder, harsher than before. Kemah turns to look at me, and I see the pain in her eyes. She’s used to this treatment. Someone bossing her around, but I can also see there’s a side of her that likes it. A side that craves it. A side that needs it.
“I …”
“Are gonna sit back down. Now.” The demand in my tone must be enough for her. She walks back over and sits back in the chair before looking at me as if she needs further instructions.
“Now what?”
“Now we talk.”
“About what?”
“You.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“I think there is,” I tell her.
“There’s really not. I’m nearly thirty, and I have nothing to show for my life. I’m fat, ugly. Used. Broken. My parents, mainly my father, gave me away. That’s about all there is to know about me.”
“First of all, you’re gonna stop talkin’ down about yourself. You’re not fat or ugly.”
“Look at me!” She snaps louder this time. I sit up slightly and look at her. She’s a plus-size woman, but that doesn’t mean shit, and she should know it.
“I am lookin’ at you.”
“Then you really must have hit your head hard. I’m a fucking size twenty-four,” she snaps at me.
“What the fuck is a size twenty-four?” she huffs under her breath before standing once more. I know she’s trying to leave again, and I don’t want her to, so this time when she starts to move, I do too. I throw the blanket back and toss my feet over the side of the bed, and she instantly stops.
“What are you doing? You can’t get up!”
“If you’re leavin’, then so am I.”
“You can’t do that. You weren’t released,” she argues, eyeing me like I’m insane, and maybe I am.
“Neither were you.”
“Are you crazy?”
“A little. Now sit down unless you want me to fall,” I warn her. She debates it, looking between me and the chair before she walks back over and sits. I sigh and lean back, putting my legs back up on the bed and adjusting the blanket.
“Why do you want me to stay?”
“We’re talkin’.”
“And now I’m done.”
“No, you’re not because I’m not done. You said you were given away. What did you mean?” She waves her hand through the air and ignores the question.
“Nothing.”
“Fine. Keep your secret,” I tell her.
“Can I go?” she asks once more.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I fuckin’ said no. What’s your favorite color?” Now she looks at me like I’m certifiable.
“Blue.”
“Flower?” She nods toward the vase, and I look over. “Daisies.” She nods. “Favorite food?”
“Pasta.”
“When I get out of here, I’m gonna take you to eat pasta. The best fuckin’ pasta you’ve ever eaten, too.”
“Why?”
“You stayed with me.”
“And now I’m leaving,” she adds with a small smirk on her face. She’s fucking cute. Very cute.
“You’re not leavin’ yet.”
“You’re not my boss.”
“Would you like that? Me bein’ your boss? Because sweetheart, when I’m done with you, you’ll be doin’ every little thing I tell you to.” Her cheeks turn pink as I smile at her. I’m getting to her, I know I am.
“You think you could?”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No. It’s a question.”
“Then yeah, I think I could.” Kemah stands to her feet and paces for a second before looking back at me.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You stayed, Kemah. You stayed.”