Chapter 7 #4
God help her, she couldn’t get the question out of her mind if this pain was worth it. They had ten weeks to go and his parole term was over. What if this happened again? What if they found some loophole that proved he’d broken his parole and he was taken back to jail?
Losing AJ had been terrible. But losing Cayden? It was unthinkable. Even just the mental question made her nauseous and her heart felt ready to explode.
Saturday was long and quiet. At least on Friday, though she’d ignored everyone, there’d been the hustle and bustle of the standard workday to keep her distracted.
Saturday was a test of her endurance. They should be lying naked in bed together eating the strawberries and whipped cream she’d picked up for them earlier in the week.
Instead, Trixie found herself on her bed, alone and dressed, with the can of whipped cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and a tub of Rocky Road ice cream.
She knew Cayden well enough to know he was worried about her.
He was likely also wondering if this pain was worth it, but she knew he wasn’t caring about his pain.
He’d only be concerned for hers. This was the first real test of their relationship.
Up until now, they had been in a blissful honeymoon phase.
His parole terms had been there, but they’d been little quirks they could work around.
Having Cayden forced under house arrest was different.
It wasn’t something she’d agreed to when she’d started dating him.
The shop was too quiet. It hadn’t been this quiet since the weekends had become their private break from reality. Cayden had filled her life with laughter and joy. She’d fallen for him faster than a cartoon anvil off of a ledge.
Was the pain worth it? Yes. Because her prize at the end of the road was Cayden Russo.
Mr. Cocky Biker. She’d known who he was from the beginning.
This was a mere bump in the road. Ten weeks from now, it would all be worth it.
She had to believe that because, if she didn’t, she didn’t know what she was fighting for anymore.
AJ had been taken from her. She refused to lose Cayden too.
The whole house knew to keep their distance from Cayden.
The news of his house arrest had spread through his housemates like wildfire.
He didn’t give a damn. They could speculate and say whatever the hell they wanted.
Geordi was the only one who’d offered him a bit of compassion.
Unfortunately for Geordi, Cayden had not been in the mood to reciprocate.
He’d missed dinner on Thursday and breakfast on Friday. Mrs. Wynn stayed home with him and had forced him out of his room by a tight grip on his earlobe to eat lunch with her. Rather than join in on Friday’s dinner, he’d remained in his room sulking like a grounded child.
God, he missed Trixie. No matter how many times he told himself that his house arrest wasn’t fair, it didn’t change a thing.
It was what it was. He just had to endure.
Not being able to talk to her was the worst. The phone call Mrs. Wynn had relayed for them Thursday evening hadn’t been good enough.
He missed her voice, her laugh. He should have hugged her and kissed her just one more time before they’d been separated.
Deep down, he knew better. No matter how many one-more-times there were, it would never be enough.
Mrs. Wynn sent Geordi up to Cayden’s room on Saturday to guilt him into coming downstairs.
Cayden had grumbled, but as Mrs. Wynn well knew, he wouldn’t say no.
Geordi’s innocence was too sincere to risk hurting.
She’d brought them a snack of Oreo cookies and milk to the living room where Geordi and Cayden were watching cartoons.
Or rather, where Geordi watched and Cayden sat next to him moping.
When Mrs. Wynn asked how he was doing, Cayden could only grumble, “Well played,” in answer.
She acted like she hadn’t heard him.
Cayden had joined Geordi at the dinner table that evening but he didn’t have the stomach to eat.
Food didn’t taste right. The other residents had the good sense to leave him be, but Geordi chatted nonstop to him.
Cayden was torn between listening as a distraction or yelling at Geordi to shut up, but Mrs. Wynn’s warning glare caught him just in time and Cayden clamped his mouth shut.
He knew he was making the house’s atmosphere miserable that weekend.
He just couldn’t bring himself to care. He was frustrated and trying desperately not to blow a fuse, or fall into a pit of despair and self-pity.
He’d done the right thing! He served his time, he left the MC.
Would he always be punished for who he was and never accepted for who he was trying to be?
Mr. Wynn dragged Cayden outside to do yardwork on Sunday.
While the tasks were physically exerting, they gave his mind too much time to wander.
He needed a task that would take up his thoughts as well as his body.
Which was how, after raking the lawn, cutting the grass, weeding Mrs. Wynn’s garden, and trimming the hedges, Cayden had found himself under the hood of Mr. Wynn’s truck that evening.
The distinct sound of Mr. Jones’s Camry caught his attention, but Cayden didn’t turn from his task.
Upon leaving the house on Thursday, Mr. Jones had promised to do his best to push Cayden’s case to the top of the list prior to the weekend.
He’d also said he’d be in touch. This was the first time Cayden had seen or heard from Mr. Jones since.
It was now Sunday. Three full days later.
Cayden was in no mood for Mr. Jones to tell him that his case was still under review or that he didn’t think sulking around the house was healthy.
Mr. Jones leaned under the hood next to him. “You know, it amazes me how you can do that. I still have no idea where to put my windshield washer fluid.”
Cayden didn’t know if the man was joking but had a hard time believing anyone could miss the colored cap with the picture of the windshield wipers on it. Then again, much like computers stumped him, the mechanics of cars stumped a lot of people.
“I wanted to let you know in person. I was able to get your case reviewed by a judge.”
“On the weekend?” Cayden didn’t know if he should be impressed or not.
“Let’s just say I called in a favor.” Mr. Jones shrugged. “I also owe the man a bottle of Scotch.”
Cayden was too pissed to be patient for conversation. “And?” he prompted.
Mr. Jones gave him an exasperated look. Then he took Cayden by the shoulders and spun him around.
There in Mr. and Mrs. Wynn’s driveway stood Trixie.
The wrench fell through his fingers and clattered to the cement. Fuck, it had only been three days, but she was breathtaking. She stood in a pair of yoga pants, a white tank that had a massive grease stain, and her work boots with her hair thrown up into a messy pony. She was fucking beautiful.
Mr. Jones leaned in. “You’re welcome.”
Trixie took a tentative step forward, and that was all he needed. He ran to her. She wrapped herself around him in that special way only she did. Her arms and legs held him tight and her face buried in his neck. Fuck, she felt exquisite, smelled even better.
He could feel her tears and it broke his heart. He had not been the only one to feel the effects of their separation.
Cayden carried her inside the garage. He didn’t see Mr. Jones leave, only noting that his rehabilitation officer was no longer there. He placed her back against Mr. Wynn’s truck on the passenger side. Slowly he lifted her face off of him so he could see those milk chocolate eyes he loved so much.
Her wet cheeks killed him. He carefully wiped her tears away with his thumbs. He opened his mouth with the intent to bare his heart and soul to her, but she was too quick. Trixie claimed his lips, and speech was no longer possible.
She fit against him like she was his missing puzzle piece.
Her breasts pressed up against his hard chest, her legs wrapped around his hips.
He was dying to be inside her, but she deserved better than a quick fuck up against Mr. Wynn’s truck in his garage where anyone could walk in on them.
Not that Cayden’s dick seemed to care about any of that.
It was straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He regretted going commando now.
Her hands left his shoulders to squeeze between them. Fuck, she had his jeans undone and his dick in her hand before he could contemplate what she was doing. Oh, he’d give his left kidney for a condom right then.
“Wait, wait…” He managed to get out. Fuck, why was he stopping this again? Right, condom. “Baby, we can’t—”
The relief in her eyes at seeing him had been replaced with pure desire. She reached into her tank top and pulled out a foil square from between her breasts.
She didn’t need to ask him twice. “You are wonderful, amazing, and beautiful,” he told her before devouring her mouth.
Her yoga pants were the biggest issue. She had to release her hold on his hips so he could wiggle the band down and off her right leg. He trailed his knuckles through her wet folds, needing no more than that to know she was ready to take him.
His pants around his ankles and hers hanging off of her left around her boot, he took her up against Mr. Wynn’s truck.
It was fast and quick, redefining his personal definition of premature.
But it was needed. They were connected once again in the most primal of ways, reassuring both of them that the other was really there.
Their separation had been hell, but their reunion was pure heaven.