Chapter 12 - Karter
I can’t stop smiling. Not because I’m happy, which I am, but because watching Diana is hilarious. And warmhearted.
The instant she stepped into my home, she tried to keep all of herself contained.
Wouldn’t even set down her purse till I pulled it from her hands.
Having her take her shoes off was another small feat.
Forcefully, at that. She’s not only trying to keep any essence of herself from getting on anything, she’s also trying hard not to touch anything.
This is quite an achievement, particularly since she had to use a fork for the roast. The girl literally held it on the very end and only touched the food to her mouth. The fork barely went inside.
She’s so scared to either trigger a memory out of me or scar any memory I already have.
It’s adorable. And it does something to me.
And seeing her here, especially with how she’s acting, lets me know it’s the right choice to have her here.
Any other woman would come in and just take over, making themselves comfortable and not caring beyond how they feel.
But not Diana. Not my Babygirl. She’s caring to a fault. To the point of being uncomfortable.
“If I have to tell you to relax again, I’m going to start taking offense.”
“I am relaxed,” she says as she sits perched on the far side of the couch as we watch some movie that I have zero clue about. She picked it, and I’m good with that, but my attention has been on her all night.
“Lie to me one more time and see what I do,” I growl.
I’m watching her closely enough that I can see the second my words register in her brain by the way she blinks a few times in quick succession.
“What would you do?” she says as she turns to me, her brows raised.
Got her now. I smirk as I open myself up and gesture for her to come closer with a simple nod to my side of the couch. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”
“No.”
“No?” Definitely not the response I was expecting.
She shakes her head like a five-year-old, hair swaying back and forth. She even has the look of someone who’s been told they can have a cookie if they tell the truth about who broke the lamp. Wide, innocent eyes, begging me to not know she did it, but already knowing the truth.
“Babygirl,” I sigh and smile softly. “Please come here.”
I open my arms and wait. It has to be her choice.
“What if I do something wrong?” she whispers.
“Wrong how?”
She shrugs and glances away before looking back at me. “This was your home… before. Your daughter feared I was trying to take over or something. What if she’s right?”
“You wouldn’t.” I’m quick and confident with my words.
“I know that, but will she? What if we do—” She flips her hand around, as if that shows me what she thinks we’re going to do. “—something, and you remember and feel the same way?”
I lick my lips and let my hands fall. She’s right. And I hate it. I don’t know how I’ll feel if I remember. But I know that I’ll regret every moment of her feeling less-than if I don’t stop her from overthinking soon.
“Come here.” There’s more command in my voice, and she obeys. Hesitantly, but she does, sliding across the couch till I can touch her, and then I pull her on my lap.
I don’t hesitate to put my lips against hers and soak in the moment we share. My lips break hers apart, and my tongue sweeps in for a taste. I cradle her head in my palm, and she moans softly as she sinks a bit into me.
When I release her, I push her hair behind her ear but keep my hand there as I look at her.
She’s the most beautiful woman ever. Special K was beautiful too.
I won’t deny that. I’ve seen the pictures of us in that back room and understand how I could have fallen easily if I went off looks alone.
But from what I’ve heard, she was a badass woman in her own right.
A part of me hates that I don’t remember her, because she sounds like a hell of a woman.
But another part, the part that’s falling quickly for the woman before me, is glad that I can separate my feelings.
That memory loss was what I needed to find another woman just as amazing as the one the others talk about.
I know the club doesn’t like Diana. They might be okay with her as my nurse, but something more? That will take time. Especially if they think it’ll hurt Ruby. She might feel like she’s on the outside, but the club has dropped everything for her. And it has nothing to do with me.
I used to see the club as a world for men.
The protection extends to family, yes, but it still holds closer for a brother.
But now? I’m not sure if it’s because of the head wound or Diana or even what Ruby said to me, but it’s not all black-and-white anymore.
The idea of club life being for brothers only doesn’t sit right with me now.
Family, people we find and bring in, they’re club too.
They might not know everything at the moment, but maybe they should.
If they’re trusted enough to be an old lady or someone special, why should we keep them in the dark?
I don’t run the club anymore. Not even sure if I have any status beyond just “the old man with a brain issue.” But if I do, I’d like to think I could make a change.
At least voice it. I think I recall Mama Bear saying something and us making a change with the vamps about when they could be around.
I’m a bit fuzzy on all of it, but if we can make it so vamps aren’t around all the time, then we can make sure others are included more.
At the very least, I can bring it to the table.
After everything settles down. And after I convince Babygirl that I want her here. In my house, in my life, and in my arms.
“I’m not asking for a commitment.” Her eyes go wide at my words, and I shake my head before her damn brain can get in her way again.
“Not saying I don’t want one. What I’m saying is, I’m not expecting you to fully commit to me.
” I pull her hair a bit to bring her eyes steady with mine.
“But I’m committed to whatever you want.
I can’t promise I won’t remember. Or that I’ll react one way or not if I do.
What I can say is that I’m willing to give this a try if you are. ”
She bites her lip but says nothing. I adjust her on my lap as I sit up more.
“I can also tell you that there are parts of this house that feel off. Parts that I know must be because of her and the life before with her. I might not recall her, but I remember this place, and I remember rooms I avoided. Before any of this, there were places I didn’t go, and I might have looked in on them now, just to check if I feel something, but all I feel is weird. Just off. I can’t explain it.”
She nods, and I use my other hand to brush the hair back from the other side of her face before moving down to her waist to squeeze a bit. More because I like the feel of it than needing to feel reassured that she’s listening to me.
“The room to the back.” I nod to the side so she can look down the hall at the closed door. “That was our room. Half craft, half bedroom. It’s the biggest, so it makes sense. But I don’t sleep there.”
She turns her head back to me.
“Been sleeping upstairs in another room I’ve claimed as my own for a while.
And no one has been in there but me. This couch?
The kitchen? There was a leak in the pipes a few years back.
Had to redo the kitchen completely and buy most of what you see.
Not too much damage, but it was time to update things.
Things that I got well before you. Things I had after her, before you, and only I have used.
So when I tell you to relax, I want you to.
You’re in my home. A home that has some skeletons in the closets, but it’s nothing we can’t deal with. Together.”
She sniffs, rubs her nose, and blinks away the tears that have crested her eyes. “How many dead bodies are we talking about? I can only handle three or four at a time.”
Her wit has me barking out a laugh in surprise, which pulls a watery giggle out of her. And then she calms and smiles.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t—”
She shakes her head to cut me off.
“I do. I was being silly.” She looks around as she speaks, peeking at me a few times as she lets out her thoughts.
“You invited me to your home, and I’m treating it like leprosy.
I’ve dealt with people telling me how I should feel about things left and right, especially after Mom passed.
Everyone expected me to just crumble or something and always told me I should take time to do this or that to feel this or that, but our relationship differed from what I guess a lot of people had.
We had so many memories that the last few months with her were just the icing on the cake.
We were both happy when the pain was no longer an issue and we got to enjoy each other and just be.
Something that many couldn’t understand.
So, I’m sorry for assuming you might, I don’t know, break apart the second I sat in a place I thought she would have been or touched something that was hers.
I just… I….” She looks up at me and bites a bit of her inner lower lip before blowing out a steady breath.
“I like you. A lot. And I don’t want to stop…
whatever this is between us. At least not anytime soon. ”
She’s quick to add on the last part, and that damn blush I adore creeps up from under her shirt.
“Me either. Now come snuggle with me and tell me what the hell is going on with this movie. I’m completely lost.”
She snorts. “No clue. I don’t even know what I picked. I just chose the first one that came up.”
I chuckle as she settles against my chest, and I kiss her forehead. “All right, my turn to pick, then.”
I pick up the remote and start flipping through what’s available on the streaming services, not ignoring at all how she sighs into me and settles more of her weight against me. And the feeling I’m getting? Not weird at all. It just feels right.
I’m just about to nod off, joining Diana in slumberland, which she went to about thirty minutes into the movie, when she jolts against me and then does it again.
“Diana?” I ask softly as I rub her arm in concern. I would hate for her to be having a bad dream, especially if she’s in my arms and on the couch. She could jolt enough to fall off and hurt herself.
My couch, while comfortable, is still just a couch.
It’s not big enough for the two of us to really lie down on it, hence why she’s curled on my side while I’m slouching down a bit.
She’s been sleeping on my chest for almost twenty minutes now, and her steady breathing and weight against me slowly started to drag me off too.
Having her in my arms is relaxing, and the cares of the world seem to float away with her here.
But not if she’s about to hurt herself.
“Karter,” she yells as she jolts up.
I hold on to her arm tight to make sure she doesn’t do anything like stand. She just woke from a deep sleep, and one step could have her falling or hitting something.
“I’m here.” It’s all I say, but it brings her face to mine before she flings her body over me, curling her arms around me quickly and holding on tight. I reciprocate easily, holding her as she squeezes me almost to the point of being too much.
“Shhh, it’s okay. You just had a bad dream. It’s okay.” I’m making a guess, but it seems to fit, as she nods, but then she shakes her head.
“You didn’t see me. You couldn’t. You just walked on by.”
“Shhh, shhh, Babygirl. That’s not true. I see you. I always see you.”
Another shake of her head, but this one has her lifting enough to put some space between us so I can see her face.
“I was in a glass box in the middle of the hospital. Everyone just kept walking by me. I kept screaming for someone to help, but no one saw me. Then you were there, and you walked right up to the glass. I thought you were going to help, but then at the last moment you turned and walked off. I—”
“Shhh.” I still her lips by placing my finger against them. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. And I’d never not see you. Never not help. It was a dream, nothing more.”
She sniffs and runs the back of her hand under her nose. Not the sexiest thing, but one of the cutest.
“Do you believe me, Babygirl?”
She stills, another sniff, and then a single nod.
I gift her a smile as I push her hair back from her face, looking over every part of her to make sure she’s really okay.
Minds are fucked-up things. I know better than most. I’m not going to hold it against her for doubting me, even if it was just in a dream.
But hopefully, one day, she’ll know that I could never just walk away.
Dream or not, Babygirl is mine. She just needs to catch up to the fact.
“You up for another movie, or do you want—”
Her lips are on mine before I can finish asking if she wants to go home. Which is good because that is the last thing I want.
I wrap my arms around her, pressing her into me as I feast on her mouth.
When she comes up for air, I look into her eyes and try to see the answer to the question I want to ask, but I’m scared of what she’ll say. What she’ll deny me.
So I don’t ask. I don’t give her the out that a gentleman would. I’m a biker through and through, and bikers take what they want. Well, maybe not all of them, but Hounds definitely do.
I use my lips, not to speak, but to lay claim as I dive back in and take what I’m afraid to ask for, knowing I won’t give her enough second thoughts to turn me down. I take the choice away for both of us and just let my lips mold to hers as my hands find purchase on her body and refuse to let go.