Chapter 3 #2
He held up his palms, and I grunted as I wrapped an arm around my abdomen again and hobbled toward the front door, which he opened before I could get there.
I didn’t argue this time, merely nodded as I passed the threshold.
He guided me toward the kitchen, and I sat down at the table as he stalked to the drawer where we kept the drugs I’d been prescribed.
He dragged out a box of meds and filled a glass with water from the fridge, and then he made his way back and placed them on the table in front of me.
He sat down, and I glanced at him, taking in the bruised rings beneath his eyes and lack of laugh lines around his mouth.
I might not be the Will who went into the hospital, but PD wasn’t the same man, either.
We’d both changed, and now he was sitting in front of me, playing nurse. I was dragging him down.
“I should move out.” I slid the box of painkillers across the table and pulled out a sheet of blister packs before popping four pills, then throwing them into my mouth. I took a sip of water and swallowed.
PD straightened and his jaw tightened. “What?”
“You heard me.” The throb from my ribs continued and I rubbed them carefully. “This isn’t working, Paris. I’m not fucking good for you.”
He snorted. “Is this how you’re doing it?
You’re playing that card?” He shook his head and his hand curled into a fist on the table, drawing my attention to his tattoo.
The word Loyalty was inked across the back in cursive writing with a black-and-white skull behind it.
His body was a natural canvas and he’d always branded himself with poignant art.
Some of his other tattoo artists had inked areas he couldn’t reach, like his neck and collarbones, but he only let people he trusted do it.
My own body art was his work, and I appreciated every line he’d traced with his gun against my skin.
I didn’t answer him.
He stood abruptly, knocking the chair behind him to the floor. “Fuck that, Will. I’m not letting you do this. You’re not leaving. I’ll fucking chain you to your bed if I have to.”
“I’m not asking for permission.” I closed my eyes slowly as a sense of relief washed through me from the effects of the meds. “I’m telling you.”
“Where you gonna go, huh?” He tugged on his hat again, the obvious frustration making him restless. “This is your home. You’re mad at King, so you’re not gonna head to the clubhouse.”
“Who says?” I snapped.
“Will.” His voice broke and my heart did, too.
“Please.” He reached for me but stopped before he could grab my hand.
Everything in me wanted to touch him and apologize, beg him to make all the hurt go away, but I couldn’t drag him down any further.
He’d already seen some bad shit. I didn’t want him to go through more.
I stood shakily, and he watched me, the emotional pain burning in his gray eyes.
“Don’t go.” The PD I knew wouldn’t have asked so softly. He would’ve dragged my ass down and made sure I couldn’t. He was calm and dominant and authoritative, and he took control of situations. This man was heading down the road of shattering, and I wasn’t going to send him on the collision course.
I gripped his shoulder, and even though I didn’t have a lot of strength right now, I squeezed it. I swooped down to touch my forehead to his, and he screwed his eyes shut. “Sorry. Thanks for all you’ve done.”
Forcing my feet to move and leave the house was one of the biggest challenges I’d ever faced, and I hadn’t even stopped for a duffel bag of clothes or essentials like my toothbrush.
I hustled to my Harley and started her up.
Instead of appreciating the vibration or roar of her engine, I backed her out of the garage immediately and hit the throttle, soaring away from my home.
I hadn’t even taken my helmet, but at this point I was fucked. Why fight it? Maybe death came with perks. I certainly wouldn’t be a biker with brothers who didn’t trust him to have their back.
The wind in my hair sent a soothing awareness through me that settled in my chest like a Band-Aid over a wound.
Momentarily, I felt whole, the biker I’d always been.
Out here it was me and the road, me and the bike, and me and nature.
There weren’t any uncontrollable emotions, the sense of loss, or the sad Bambi eyes from everyone else while they treated me like I was made of glass.
I was free.
Before I knew it, I arrived to the clubhouse.
The party was still raging, which wasn’t surprising.
Our brothers had a blast until the sun came up and the roosters came out to crow.
I’d never been one to stick around for long.
PD and I always packed in our shit early and went home, had some beers in private, and threw verbal shit at each other.
How could I miss someone who was right beside me?
Maybe if I created distance between us, PD would come back to himself. I could only fucking hope.
I pulled my bike to a stop near Undertaker’s and glanced toward the metal shed. Would the Demon still be alive? Doubt it. If what PD said was true, Undertaker would be done with him. Or maybe PD finished him off for good.
Regret crawled under my skin as I slid off the Harley and stormed through the door to the clubhouse.
The barroom was still packed with bodies, and Jester had poor Bliss over the pool table, fucking into him so hard the entire table shook.
Balls rolled on the blue velvet with every hard thrust from Jester, and despite the room being full of other people, Bliss’s groans and whimpers were loud.
I imagined being in his place, with PD behind me.
This time the pain came from my heart and there wasn’t any painkiller in the world that could heal it.
I rubbed my chest right as King looked over from where he was sitting on one of the leather couches with Dallas.
He shot to his feet and ate up the distance between us with massive steps until he was in front of me.
“What are you doing here? You should be at home resting.”
I swallowed and glanced at him, taking in the gray at his temples. He’d gotten timeworn as the years passed and the concern lines on his cheeks dug deeper into his face than they used to. Did Dallas know King’s drinking had become worse? It wasn’t any of my business.
“You have a room here to spare?” I glanced around, not quite sure what I was looking for.
King frowned. “What happened between you and PD?”
“Does the pres get involved in personal bullshit now?” It took me a moment to realize the words had come from me. Fuck. I needed some control over myself. Yet, I didn’t apologize. He’d allowed someone else to kill the Demon I had the right to.
King’s expression hardened, but then it softened again because the bastard felt sorry for me. He could shove his sympathy up his ass.
“Yeah, sure. We got a room upstairs free. You want a hand with anything?” He peeked behind me, obviously searching for a bag.
I shrugged. “Nah. I’m fine.”
I left the conversation at that, even though I wanted to demand answers from him.
Spinning on my heel, I left him behind. I headed upstairs to the only open bedroom door.
It used to belong to Tinker. I had a brief surge of grief but ignored it.
Once I was inside, I stopped to curl my mouth in disgust as I glanced around.
Posters of naked women were so plentiful they might as well be wallpaper, and while it’d clearly been cleaned, everything still smelled like old socks and sex. I had no idea who’d been in here last.
“Fuck.” I rubbed my palm over my face and closed the door behind me. Moving stiffly, I walked to the bed and fell onto my back. The ceiling was marked with years of wear and tear. Time slipped away and my heart throbbed with pain.
Home had never really been a place. We were bikers, we lived on the road.
To me, home was a person, and for most of my adult life, that meant PD.
We’d been through thick and thin together and fought unimaginable battles.
He’d been at my side the entire time and I’d had his back.
But this changed things. If I wanted to take care of him this time, I needed to push him away. He deserved to live his life freely.
Where did that leave me?
The Kings didn’t want me around. I wasn’t Rook. I was Will fucking Gardner. A nobody.
I shivered as a cold sweat broke out on my body, and I cursed myself for forgetting my pain meds. While I’d only just taken some, by the time morning came around, I’d need more.
This night was going to be hell on wheels.