Chapter 32
Hound Dog
M y girl was gawking at the last thing that would make her mine, a warning to heed to others that she was protected, loved, and respected.
She didn’t notice that I was standing in the doorway. Which was better, knowing the state I was in, her own anxiety would rise to the roof. No, I wanted that moment of peace, an image to engrain in my mind.
I loved her.
I loved her hard.
I loved her and I kicked myself for wanting to fight it all.
My little curious creature turned away from me, but took the jacket off the hanger, and slipped her arm through it. My heart and my cock ached so hard. Fuck the concussion, I’d risk anything to fuck her right there, wearing my name for the first time.
Her cut looked like a dream on her, she had smoothed it over. She was getting used to the way it felt, and when she opened the closet door to reveal the small hanging mirror, her eyes shot open.
All I could do was grin. “There’s my beautiful girl.”
She twisted quickly, rushing into my arms. Her heart raced fast enough that I could feel it through my own clothes. She clutched onto me, I gripped her tight, cradling her head like the precious cargo she was.
“I told you I’d come back.”
“You did.”
“You miss me that much?”
She nodded as her head nudged into my neck. My fingers trailed along the leather material, and I was grinning like a happy man. “You know this wasn’t how I wanted to ask you. I had a plan and everything. Surrounded by the club, presenting this to you, and asking you to officially wear it.”
“Sentimental are we?”
“Maybe a little bit, maybe a bit romantic. But are you just wanting to try it on? Or do you want to keep it like you want to be with me and be a part of this club?”
She looked up at me, smiling. “I guess since I want to keep you, I’ll keep this.”
She jumped up, wrapping her legs around me, and I fought back the urge to show her just how much I missed her.
I walked us to the bed, only because I didn’t want to drop her from the dizziness I was feeling. The small twinge of pain in my head made me hiss. She jolted back, silent for a moment.
But when I looked, there was a blood smear on her palm. Her fingers started to peel through my hair and my beard. I pushed off her hands, but kissed her palms.
“Oh my baby.” Her sincere voice warmed me.
“I’m okay. Songbird, I’m okay. I promise.” Just going to be out of commission for a little bit, but I didn’t tell her that.
“What the hell happened?” she pressed.
I shook my head, but started to tell her about the Hogs. Her eyes dropped at every mention of where I was hit. And then tried to repress her laughter as I told her that Shooter told me limited physical activity.
“I’d rather “no physical activity” if that means you’ll be okay.”
“He said limited , he didn’t say turn into a monk.” I leaned in for a kiss and she stopped me.
“If he said what he said, then the doctor's orders. And that means no late night snacks,” she said with her little attitude.
I grinned because she would be the one suffering that consequence, the one where she wouldn’t wake up with my head between her thighs. I wasn’t sure about that at first, but the little minx opened up that she wasn’t against it, it was hard to say no to that.
My hands cupped her ass, hoisting her closer to my cock that was pressing against my jeans. “I hope that you’re ready for your next lesson.”
She snapped back, “We’re still doing that after all of tonight?”
Under my protection, I couldn’t contain her in this club. I nodded. “The only way to show that it didn’t rattle us is to continue on. And I’ll have Stray and Hank teach you to protect yourself.”
She interrupted, “I have my pepper spray and knife.”
My hands traveled to her hair, gripping it to silence her, “A knife to a gunfight, Melody, you’ll be at Heaven’s gates before you even think straight. I want you to have a fighting chance.”
She sighed. “Fine. only because you asked.”
“And you love making me happy, don’t you?” I nipped at her neck.
Much to my attempt, she cockblocked me the entire night. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. I knew soon she would need to talk about what happened on stage, but I’d work that out of her.
I still had a few ideas of how and it would appease Shooter that I wasn’t doing “excessive physical activity”. But the raging hard on the rest of the night as Melody had pressed her plump ass on my cock did not help the cause.
When I woke up, I reached for her side of the bed. It was cold to the touch, she wasn’t there. I started to panic, bolting out of bed and finding any scrap of clothing and my cut. I burst through the hallways in a whirlwind. She couldn’t have gone far and I was certain none of the guys would actually let her leave.
Well, that was my hope.
Early morning murmurs filled the open area, the guys were too busy stuffing their faces with breakfast.
I tilted my head, because it wasn’t just any breakfast. It was homemade breakfast with the familiar scents that I knew too well.
The kitchen. Usually one of the guy’s ol’ ladies would come and make breakfast and sometimes their kids would help out.
I was welcomed by the sight of a little songbird humming while Reverend stood watch with a cup of coffee in his hand. Dressed in my shirt and my sweatpants, she was smiling as she started to serve scrambled eggs and homemade fried apple French toast.
That was her love language, doing for others and feeding them. It felt good to see her smile and do what she loves to do. I think she worried about where she would fit in, especially when she deemed herself not the strongest.
Reverend gave a small nod to me as he filled a cup of hot coffee, sliding it in my direction.
“I always said there’s nothing sexier than seeing you cook in the morning,” I said.
She startled as she turned around.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked as I sipped the coffee.
She shrugged. “You were sleeping peacefully and needed it more than me. I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I found the kitchen and Stray and Twitty were up and grumbled about where to find breakfast. So I said I’d make something, it’s the least I could do for the club.”
Thoughtful. I didn’t fucking deserve her.
“They would have been just fine with the diner down the way,” I countered back.
“Well, then you can go to the diner, and this plate can go to one of the prospects because y’all run them to the ground,” she sassed, grabbing the plate to walk out.
“That’s their job, honey. They get most of the grunt work.” I stepped in her way.
She raised onto her tiptoes and placed a soft morning kiss on me. She pulled back. “All the more reason to give them the fuel. Now, be a good boy and sit over there and wait for your plate.”
Sassy little thing. She walked past me, her hips swaying as she left to deliver some of the plated food. A warm sensation floated in my chest. Happiness. Even if it was brief.
I turned around to see Reverend just smiling away.
“What’s got you smiling?”
He just chuckled, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Just glad to see that not all hope is lost. Especially you, Prez. Between you and Shooter.”
“Worried about our souls? I think we’re a little too late for that.” I stated the obvious. We weren’t the most stand up citizens. But we had a little heart to ourselves.
“Never too late to be a person in love,” he said before leaving.
Just watching Melody interact with the guys, watching the guys with their wide eyes like they couldn’t believe that another person wanted to take care of them. I started to have more confidence that she would fit in just fine.
I wasn’t kidding when I told her that we were going to continue with our lessons, I needed her to open up about what was going on in that head of hers. Only she could tell me what was going on, all I could do was listen.
“I didn’t know this was up here.” She touched the ivory keys as her eyes gazed upon the hidden second floor of the Blue Sax. No one would be around until later in the evening. I would have taken her to the warehouse but there weren't enough security measures there. At least not yet.
“Not many do.”
She turned back. “Well then, teacher, what are we doing today?” Her fingers kept tracing over the keys, urging to play a little something.
“Walk me through last night,” I commanded.
She started to shake her head, but I voiced for her to stop. Our dynamic was trust, trust me that I knew what she needed. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. She was mine to care for, just like she did with me.
Her shoulders slumped. “I tried, I froze, I ran. Did I miss something? Can I play on this?”
“That’s one,” I simply said, keeping track of how many times she would talk down about herself or avoided the conversation.
“One what?”
“For me to know, and you to find out,” I challenged her. “Try again.”
Her face hardened, almost a little spark of anger there, “I got over confident. I overhyped myself and then standing on that stage, it felt like it was washed away. Too many faces, and the heat from the lights didn’t help. I don’t know how to fully explain it. I mean how did I manage to strum a few chords.”
I held up a hand to stop her, “Because you are improving.”
She laughed. "Yeah, right."
I darted my eyes. “Two.”
She rolled her eyes. Three. Just because I felt like it.
“You are. It wasn’t the improvement you’re hoping for, but enough that it’s a start.” I said, mesmerized that she was so damn talented, she just second guessed herself.
“Maybe singing on stage is just too ambitious for me. You know that Aria was the star, I was the one with the lyrics”.
Time for her to unleash her potential. She wasn’t her sister, her sister was just a part of her journey, her inspiration.
“Four,” I started to say, she was about to protest, but one look and she stopped from speaking. “You can’t expect things to fall into place. I never said it was an easy process or a fast one.”
“Easy for you, rockstar. You had people eating out of your hands. Your Knoxville gig, I remember playing that video over and over again.” She reminisced about a time where it was a great night for performing.
“So then tell me what is stopping you?” I asked.
She sighed. “Maybe I’m scared to fail, and it’s easier to give in to defeat than to fight. I don’t know, Hound, we can keep working and working on things that you think will help. But I still see everyone's faces, the people turning to whisper and wonder if I actually have what it takes. I still feel the sweat drip from my face because I’m already scared I’ll mess up. I guess what’s stopping me is that I don’t know how to stop feeling like that. Offstage, I’m a powerhouse, I’m more confident because you believe in me. But the moment I walk on stage, I’m not that girl anymore.”
Something clicked, too many eyes on her. She saw all that.
“What if you never see any of them?” I started to form a plan.
“That would require that no one be there.” She chuckled.
I could be mad, but it was an idea nonetheless.
“You said with the lights you feel the heat, you see the people. What if you didn’t have to, and you were just singing to me.” I tried to coax her.
“How hard did you hit your head? You’re not making sense.” her fingers started to fidget again. Like she always does. Twisting her hands, her nerves starting to form again. Another idea popped in my head.
“Then leave that to me,” I said, walking around to find a piece of sheet music that I could use for my next lesson.
“Okay then, great and crazy mad man, what are we doing here?
“Let’s see.” I started to walk around the piano. “We worked on knocking down those barriers, those thoughts that kept telling you every negative thing about you, that wasn’t true. You already proved that you can do different dynamics. But you know what I’ve noticed?” I questioned her.
Her delicate little fingers started to move from fidgeting to letting her fingers dance on the keys. A slow tune played.
“That your lessons turn from productive to seductive?” She continued to play.
I hummed in agreement, “Yes, but not the answer I’m looking for. You fidget a lot.”
“Well, mister teacher. I have a milder form of ADHD, they used to call it ADD, but I digress. Between my own anxiety and attention span, my mind needs to fiddle with something or else the thoughts keep getting louder. Busy mind, silent thoughts.” That explained a lot actually. I’m pretty sure Memphis was diagnosed with that, but he wasn’t medicated.
“Again you fidget. Today, your task is to not move other than playing that piano and this music,” I said, plopping a familiar song sheet on the stand. “I have a working theory that when you focus on the music and not what’s going on around you, it will help with the nerves.”
She tossed me a look like I was the one confused, a sense of doubt. “Just trust me.”
“So focus, and don’t move?” she asked.
I nodded. She turned back to the piano, eyeing the music. “Alright, wise one, sounds like an easy task.”
That’s what you think.