Chapter 35
Melody
I didn’t know when I started crying or why, but my cheeks felt wet, coated in salty tear streaks. But I had done one thing I never thought I would do.
The echoes of the yelling, the engine rumbling underneath me, and the sound of the shot rang in my ears like an endless loop. When I thought they were over, my mind would replay the sounds.
I could still feel the grasp of the man yanking me, trying to pull me off or knocking us over. The way his fingers gripped me, leaving an unpleasant sight. There was an ache in my neck and shoulder. The only thing I could remember last was Hound Dog staring at me in disbelief like I actually did something.
I laid there in an unknown room where Shooter had hooked me up to machines.
One thing was for certain, I killed someone.
I physically pulled the trigger on a gun and killed someone. Their blood was on my hands, their own soul taken from this world.
That wasn’t me. I wasn’t a killer. I didn’t think of myself as a protector either. The ache in my chest turned into panic. Why did I do it?
Because he was going to hurt the one person that loved me.
The pain of knowing what I did and the compromising factor of why had me in a spin. Was that enough to justify what I did?
I needed Hound. I needed to know that it wasn’t true that it was all a horrible dream and really the world would keep on spinning.
I wished that someone was there to sedate me so I couldn’t feel anymore.
Hound would have done the same thing.
Yeah, he would have, but he seemed like it didn’t bother him as much. He protects, that’s what he did.
And you didn’t?
I felt like there was a war in me, fighting to know who was right. I heard heavy boots strike the floor at a hurried pace. I knew by the racing of my heart it was the one person I could trust to soothe me, as he often did.
My rugged man’s face hovered over me. “Hey there, little songbird.” he cooed. A spread of warmth hit me.
His hand caressed my face, his thumb tracing the path of wetness on my cheek. He pulled me to sit up, where he could step in between my legs so I could look up at him. He radiated heat which only compelled me to face plant into his chest.
His hands rubbed down my back in a tranquil sensation. The light pressure felt so good that I could have fallen back asleep. And yet for a moment when I lost myself to peace, darkness slipped back in. My chest started to heave with panic.
And in that moment, Hound Dog picked me up from underneath my ass, hoisting me to the point of nuzzling his neck. I allowed the tears to flow down, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know the true reason, but there were many speculations, I just couldn’t choose.
My legs clung to his waist, I was like a child in his arms.
“Shh, I’m here, I ain’t letting you go,” he softly said.
I had hoped that was true in a lot of manners. All I wanted to do was apologize like a small sliver of this situation was my fault or made it worse. I kept apologizing, murmuring against his neck. How would I get past this?
Next thing I knew he had carried us to his room, shutting the door. He had sat me down on the bed, only to strip off his cut and shirt. He grabbed me as he put us on his bed. But not before he had stripped me down bare and dressed me in one of his shirts.
He laid me on top of him, pulling the blankets over us. I made him get softer ones and a bunch of them. I noticed one thing.
This was like my aftercare. When I gave out or when I had reached my limit, this would be what he would do. Ground me and surround me with warmth. A little haven for me to feel like I could escape.
The tears still flowed.
“It’s never easy, honey,” he said, “My first time was during my second run with the club as a prospect. We had run into trouble and I didn’t stop to think I let my instinct take over. I was shaking, I knew it would be a part of the club life and I had shot before when the family would go hunting or go to the gun range for fun. But that all meant nothing compared to the first time.”
I burrowed myself further into him. His fingers stroke my hair, lulling me away from the worries I had, the uncertainty I felt.
“Melody.” Hound beckoned me. I couldn’t look him straight in the eyes, not when I wasn’t my best. “I know you’re spinning. But thank you for saving me. Thank you for being the woman I don’t deserve.”
I interrupted him. “Not true.”
His hands stopped running through my hair. “What?”
“You deserve it all. We deserve it all.” Now I was crying for a different reason, and yet the words weren’t ready to come out.
“Yeah, we do.” He kissed the top of my head. “I know right now you don’t feel it, but you are an angel.”
An angel? The hidden joke was there, but he didn’t say or maybe he didn’t know it. But an angel of death. A fallen angel.
His heartbeat was steady, it was like a lullaby to my ears and before too long I was lulled to sleep. Wrapped up with a man that was meant to be with me. I promised myself that one day I wouldn’t let this keep me from being in the moment with him. If he was going to remain alongside me, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much as it did.
I’m safe. We’re safe. That should be all that matters.
My first night wasn’t horrible but it was the next two that I ended up screaming, then begged Hound to sedate me, give me something that would make my sleep dreamless. I was aching from the mental drain of the incident and missing our home, one that I wanted to be my safe place. Though, anywhere that Hound was, was my safe place.
He promised that everything would end, yet he said that from the beginning. I had blind faith to know that he would follow through on his promise. By day eight, I was less numb, and not panicky. That morning I couldn’t go back to sleep but Hound was sleeping like a rock and the dead couldn’t wake him.
I slipped out, finding my shirt and sweatpants and padded down toward the kitchen. I needed something to idle my mind, especially when music felt lost and gone. I wanted nothing more than to write and find that music again. But it felt hopeless.
I poured myself into an apple and cinnamon coffee cake, allowing my hands to follow the recipe that I had made several times before. The sweetness of the apple and the sugary goodness of a brown sugar cinnamon just felt like home.
As I found my rhythm around the pantry, something alerted me that I was no longer alone. I turned with a mixing bowl in my hand and I found a beautiful, older woman with purple and maroon hair staring at me with a small smile. Her blue eyes almost reminded me of Hound Dog’s. She looked like she worked in the sun and it kissed her with enough love and admiration.
I’d never seen her before, made me think that she was one of the ol’ ladies like me.
Shit. I am an ol’ lady, aren’t I?
“Um, hi,” I sheepishly said, trying to wave with a wooden spoonful of cake mixture. It splattered in a few places and embarrassment hit me. I was standing in the kitchen, staring at a woman I had no idea who, looking like I rolled out of bed.
“You sure are a pretty thing,” she cooed, spreading a bigger smile. She walked toward me, cradling my face in her soft hands. “Like the heavens sent us their best angel.”
Oh now she had me blushing. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me for just telling the truth, sweet girl.” Her smile never faded.
Normally, I would tuck and run from the extended contact, but something in my soul told me not to, that I was safe with her. Her eyes darted to the mixture in the bowl. “He wasn’t kidding about you feeding the boys.”
He?
She let go of my face. There was something about her warmth that just oozed out of her. Only a brief conversations and I could tell that she was a good person. At least, I was hoping so.
“What can I do to help?” she asked, walking past me to the counter where the rest of the ingredients were laid out.
I fumbled over my words, trying to figure out what I needed. Hound normally would gawk at me in the kitchen, trying to tease me. And yet the sudden memory of our other special memories were creeping up. I needed to get the thought of Hound bending me over the house’s kitchen counter, teasing my throbbing pussy, out of my head.
I finally spoke, telling the mysterious woman to butter the pans I had out.
She started to hum before diving into conversation. “Being in a kitchen just takes your mind away, right? Just to think that simple ingredients can make something so mouthwatering. Or even the simple way that baking or cooking allows us to busy our minds when we don’t know what else to do.”
I just nodded.
She kept going, “Or a way to get close to family.”
That hit harder than any punch I’d taken. Family. I sighed. “Unfortunately, not everyone has a family.”
“Family doesn’t mean blood,” she said simply.
She was right I guess. She started to chuckle. “Family can also mean future in-laws.”
Oh, she was a friend of the club, which made it better. “Oh, I mean sometimes you get lucky there.”
“I’d like to think so, she has not made that boy shut up about her. And I couldn’t be happier,” she said as I scrapped everything into the pans before baking them.
“She must be really good to your son then,” I said, grabbing my coffee cup.
She reached for the coffee pot and poured her a cup as well. She leaned back into the counter and kept smiling. I’d never met a parent in the club before. I figured most of the guys were free spirited or ran away from their previous lives like Hound when he was Nash to the world.
“I like to think so, especially when she not only cooks for him, but cares for his brothers. He goes on and on about her singing and all. He didn’t realize it, but he called her his songbird. That mush of a man.” She peered at me, holding back her laughter as my eyes widened. I was talking to Hound’s mother. Then my stomach hit the bottom when I realized she joked about future in-laws.
“Double fuck,” I muttered.
She couldn’t contain her laughter and sputtered out words. “Oh, sweet girl.” She kept laughing. “I didn’t mean for you to think… You are too adorable… Please don’t think this was mean.. I was kidding.” She saw the panic in my eyes.
I shook my head, “If I had known you were coming by or something I would be…”
“Not in Nash’s clothing.”
My cheeks reddened. I nodded. “Oh Melody, you are just a peach. And even more beautiful than he described. He doesn’t know. But I talked to B.B and Reverend, and they thought I’d be best to come talk with you.” She said.
“So he..” I gestured to the hallway.
“Nope, he might not be happy, but he loves his mama.”
It took me a second to readjust, replaying the whole conversation, I thought it was a coincidence. “You’re his mama. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Lane. This is not how I want to… make an impression.”
“You can call me Ms. Mary.” She pulled me into a tight hug. “Or Mama Mary, whichever.”
I was so sick of crying and feeling all of the emotions, but her hug reminded me of being hugged by my mama long ago. The type of hug that envelopes you into a sense of warmth and love. I sank into her hug, never wanting to let go.
“Oh sweet girl,” she cooed, pulling away, brushing my hair out of my face, her soft fingertips tracing over the skin. “No more tears.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just,” I sniffed, “you know when you don’t realize how much you miss something until you get it again and you wonder why you went for so long without it.”
She chortled. “That’s just the power of a mama bear hug.” She sat us down at the island table, gawking at me. “I’d ask you how you are doing, but I have a feeling that’s a loaded question and not easy to answer.”
I nodded. I truly hated those questions because however you answer, people look at you like you were going to keep breaking or maybe you’re actually okay.
“I take it you know what’s going on?” I asked, she nodded her head. “Numb, some days. Others I’m okay until when my mind goes quiet and replays those memories and grasps me so hard that I can’t shake loose. And I don’t want Hound Dog to keep worrying about me, he has enough on his plate.”
She took my hand in hers, and her thumb started caressing my skin. This was what it was like talking to someone like her, someone like Mama, where you could unload like it was their job to be there for you. Again, not everyone was lucky.
“Mrs. Lane,” I started.
She squeezed my hand, “Oh don’t call me that, I’d be afraid my mother-in-law was standing behind me or something. As I've said, Ms. Mary or Mama, whatever makes you comfortable.”
I sheepishly nodded. “Ms. Mary, when I met your son, I was a completely different person and somehow he saw something in me that wanted to come into this world. We both pushed and both felt like we didn’t deserve the chances we have with each other, but he never gave up on me. I don’t want to revert back to feeling like I have to have walls around me. I’m not a murderer.”
I could feel the tears starting to well up again, threatening to release, to be vulnerable again. These were my problems, and I’d already roped Hound Dog into my life, I didn’t want to get anyone else hurt.
She wiped a stray tear. She offered a small smile, telling me I wasn’t alone. “When I met Nash’s dad, I mean Hound, I never thought that I would be a part of his lifestyle, then he chose me. Loved me for me and dreamed of giving everything I wanted. Then I was in your shoes once.”
I nervously laughed, my voice cracked. “What, you shot someone because they were going to kill the person you loved?”
Mrs. Mary stayed quiet, Her blue eyes darkened and yet remained soft. I could see the fight in her eyes, one that had been going on for years.
“You did?”
She nodded. “I did, more than once.”
My heart sank. She didn’t look like she was the type of person that could harm a fly. She started to tell me the first time she shot someone, and it was for the protection of her family. Then proceeded to tell me about the times that rivals or even people looking for her because of the connection she has with the club. “I don’t regret any of them, because in the end I did what I needed for the people I loved and the protection of my family, which also meant the club. Melody, it’s hard for the first time because there is no perfect timing.”
She was right, of course. In the end there was no perfect timing, nor any way to ignore it. “When did you start to be okay with what you did?”
“Well, that depends on you. Are you going to let the memory haunt you, preventing you from living your life? Or are you going to power through and remember who you are?”
Who was I?
I was a person that was pushing every negative voice telling me that I couldn’t do anything, I was the one with the big heart that loved a few people in her life but opened up to love more. I was the beautiful soul that captured the rough and rugged man in her life.
I wanted to choose to move on. I was going to be the strong woman so many people believed I was. I was the person that deserves everything good in her life and accepted the love from Hound Dog.
Ms. Mary’s warmth and comfort was maybe what I needed to be pulled from that funk. After that I waited for Hound to come find me, but not before she revealed stories of young Nash, especially the story of Christmas and the little cowboy boots.
And the rosiness of his cheeks when he found me later, laughing at the home photos that Ms. Mary was showing me, made me feel lighter.
I already loved being with Hound, but being accepted by the club and his family, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. Not that Hound Dog would let me go anywhere.