Thirty-Four
F ree therapy. I guess some people would be pretty chuffed, and I suppose I might have been a little too, but talking about my past was hard. Harder than I’d realised, but then it wasn’t something I ever talked about, so how would I know?
“Dad was a real asshole, yeah? The kind of dad who barely fucking did a thing, certainly didn’t fucking help raise me. He was good at using his fists though, and mum… she deserved so much better, but he was a violent, abusive fucker, and he got what he deserved in the end.”
Lissa had started rubbing her hand gently over my chest as I spoke, and it soothed me inside, in a way nothing had. Suddenly talking about that bastard wasn’t as painful as I thought, and knowing mum was safe from him, that made it easier too.
“Is he dead?”
I wished, oh how I fucking wished I’d made that happen. One day, I would.
“Prison. He was locked up for twenty years. Not for abusing her, but for the shit he was doing to embezzle money from his employer. My stepfather, or step-asshole as I call him… he’s one of the cops who worked the case. Rescued her, and fucking won her over. She thinks the sun rises and sets in his fucking ass.”
Lissa laughed, lifting her head and rolling her eyes at me.
“Are you sure that’s the expression? That doesn’t sound right.”
I covered her hand on my chest, squeezing her fingers lightly.
“Babe, are you telling this, or am I?”
She giggled, but returned her head to rest against my shoulder.
“Go on.”
Jesus, was I still on this? I leaned my head back against the sofa.
“He looks down on me, the man she married. See he’s this impossibly good fucking hero of a guy, in law enforcement, and what am I? I’m a biker, and I’m the son of a monster who liked to steal, and beat up on the woman he said he loved.” A sudden horrifying thought hit me, and I felt that chill in my blood again. What if I was like him? What if ‘like father like son’ was actually true?
“Ice?”
I lifted her fingers to my lips, kissing them gently.
“What if I end up like him?” I was surprised I’d had the courage to even mention it, but something about her made me feel safe to let the words out.
She was shaking her head, then she sighed, as I wrapped my lips around one of her fingers and sucked it lightly.
“Need to go down on you, babe. Gotta fucking taste you again.”
“Wait… when did you taste me before?”
“You don’t think we taste our fingers, after we’ve had them inside our ladies? Please . That’s a wasted opportunity.”
I felt the way she shuddered at my words, but then she pulled her hand away and swatted me lightly.
“Don’t change the subject, Ice. You won’t be like him. You’re a good person, and just the fact that you asked that question tells me you won’t be like him. But tell me more about growing up in that environment. Did he ever abuse you?”
Ugh. Back to this shit. Would I feel better after we’d talked about it? Would I feel less like I failed my mother because, as a fucking five year old, I couldn’t protect her?
“Ice?”
“No. No, he never did… he yelled at me a lot, but he never hit me. He saved his fists for his woman. He uh… he had a system, see. He’d stick me in front of the TV and stick a DVD on, and leave me watching it loudly, like he thought I couldn’t hear him yelling, and cursing, or hear her crying for him to stop.”
“My god, I’m so sorry, Ice. The fact that he did that, that he tried to shield you, or hide it from you, I don’t really know if that makes it any better. Was it something you loved to watch? Cartoons? How old were you?”
I could still hear it; that annoying damn theme tune on that stupid, stupid fucking kids show. The one with… the one with a little blonde kid as the star. Fuck. Me.
“I just figured out why I hate Has-Been.”
Lissa
I sat up to stare at him, and he looked stunned. He was frowning deeply, and no amount of smoothing my fingers over his brow could change that.
“Tell me.”
He ran a hand through his hair, and pulled at it a little. He did that a lot, I noticed. Was it a stress response? Or was he experiencing that loss of self and familiarity with himself that some recovering addicts did?
“Fucking hell. The DVD my dad used to put on for me to watch. The show that I was forced to sit and fucking listen to whenever he was beating on my mum. I can’t believe it.”
“What was it?”
He sat up further, his eyes widening with the revelation.
“The one he’s best known for. The one where he’s the school kid with super powers or some shit. Fucking hell. That voice. That whiny little asshole voice.”
I moved over to straddle his lap, cupping his face. My heart was beating faster, practically bursting with pride and excitement, because this was a really big deal.
“Ice, you know what just happened?”
He grinned, dragging me closer, his arms tight around my back.
“You’re gonna let me suck your clit?”
Everything clenched at his words. God yes.
“Don’t make light of it, Ice. This is a breakthrough, and this is huge. This is the reason you two don’t get on. It’s not his fault, but it’s not yours either, you get that, right? You can both move past this now.”
He groaned, dragging me tighter against him.
“Can I move past it and into your pussy now? I think I deserve it.”
I wriggled in his lap, stroking his face.
“Are you sure you’re well enough? You’re still a bit sweaty.”
He laughed, moving and lifting me at the same time.
“Then we’ll fuck in the shower. Come on.”
He tried, he really did, but his body had too much to cope with, with the withdrawal symptoms, and maybe the pressure he was unconsciously putting on himself.
“Fuck!” He turned and slammed his hand against the wall.
“Ice, it’s fine.”
He shot me a glare over his shoulder, as he headed for the towels.
“Like fuck it is. I call myself a man and I can’t even fucking get it up long enough to… Jesus, maybe I should be grateful I didn’t blow early again this time.”
He slammed the door after him, while I hurried to get a towel, and follow him. I was so afraid he’d rush off again, looking for something to numb the pain and the frustration, and the humiliation he felt, even though he knew I wasn’t judging him for it, that I knew exactly why he was struggling.
“Ice?” He was sitting on his bed, naked, his head hanging forward, and he looked defeated. Just in his pose, I could see defeat, like he was on the verge of giving up. I wouldn’t let him give up on us, and definitely wouldn’t let him give up on himself.
“I’m sorry, babe.” Even his voice sounded lost and defeated, and it broke my heart. I climbed onto the bed, losing my towel in the process, and wrapped my arms around him from behind.
“There’s nothing to apologise for, Ice. Please don’t dwell on this.”
He sighed heavily, not even making any attempt to return my embrace.
“Don’t dwell on having a useless dick? Sorry, babe, we men just aren’t wired that way.”
I pressed my face against his shoulder, trailing kisses over his warm, damp skin. I could feel him trembling slightly, or was he still suffering with tremors? The poor man was going through so much.
He suddenly tensed, and let out a pained groan.
“Fucking perfect. Why not now, huh? Bastard arm.”
Oh no. I pulled back, releasing him from my arms.
“Your shoulder’s spasming?”
He nodded, tensing up, and gripping it with the other hand, probably in response to a spasm.
“Oh god, Ice. Let me ask the doc if he can give you something for it.”
“No! Nobody can know. God… they’d take my cut. I can’t lose the club, babe. I fucking can’t.” It seemed unbelievable to me that the club would fight so hard to keep him safe and healthy, just to callously kick him out on his rear if he couldn’t ride, but what did I really know? My little knowledge of club life came from my brief time here, and what mum had told me about dad’s club. They sounded pretty brutal, which thankfully didn’t to be seem the case here, unless I just hadn’t been here long enough yet.
In the end, to give him a few minutes to wallow in the pain he was suffering, without my eyes on him, and making him feel like he had to ‘man up’; a phrase I hated, by the way, I went down to return the soup bowl and order some dinner for us for later. I figured I’d bring some coffee back too. Looking after my man made me happy, but I just wished I could do the same for his pain.