Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Finley
I must’ve slept the entirety of the day and through the night because when my eyes flutter open, sunlight streams through the curtains.
“Shit,” I hiss as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
I feel like I have a hangover since I slept as long as I did.
Looking at the clock sitting on the nightstand, my eyes widen when I notice the time.
“How did I sleep through breakfast and lunch?” I mutter to myself as I grab some clean clothes and head into the bathroom to get ready for the day.
As the water heats, my stomach rumbles. It’s a loud reminder of the fact that not only did I not eat much while I was at the clinic, but I missed out on the best meal of the day!
Some people can’t stuff their faces first thing in the morning, but I’m not one of those people.
I love a big breakfast, then a medium lunch, followed by something light for supper.
And yes, I enjoy my snacks as well. I could probably stand to lose ten to fifteen pounds, but I’m more than comfortable in my skin and if anyone else thinks differently, that’s a them problem, not a me one as far as I’m concerned.
I rush through my shower, thankful that I washed my hair the day before because it’s so long and thick that it takes forever to dry.
Once I’m done, I lotion, moisturize, powder, then spritz a little of my favorite body mist on, then I get dressed.
Well, it’s my current favorite, since I tend to wear whatever suits me on a particular day.
Maybe one day, I’ll find ‘the one’ fragrance that I use all the time, but today’s not that day.
Satisfied with how I look, I have my hand on the doorknob so I can go find some food, when there’s a knock on the door. I open it to see another woman standing there. At first, I’m confused, but then my memory snaps back into place and I realize it’s Sutton. “Hey,” I say.
“I thought I’d come check on you since you hadn’t come downstairs yet,” she says.
“I can’t believe I slept that long! I’m so sorry,” I reply.
“Don’t apologize, you’re living in a house full of bikers for starters, and trust me, they don’t adhere to a time clock. Plus, you’re still recovering, and rest is key to ensuring you heal properly. But I’m sure you’re hungry, so let’s go downstairs and rustle up some grub.”
“Yes, please.” I all but purr at the mere thought of filling my belly. “It seems like it’s been forever since I’ve filled this grumbling beast,” I say, rubbing my stomach.
“That’s because you slept through dinner, breakfast, and lunch,” Sutton reminds me, a teasing smile stretched across her face.
“What have I missed while I was reenacting a scene from Sleeping Beauty?” I ask as we traipse down the stairs.
“It’s been an active morning. We did a tour of the clubhouse this morning and determined that our best bet is to demolish it and start fresh,” she tells me.
“I could’ve told you that just from looking at it from the outside,” I laugh. “It looks like a stiff breeze could knock it over.”
“That it does, but the guys had high hopes for it, so I wasn’t willing to burst their bubble. But fate was on my side when Hercules told them it was a lost cause.”
“So are y’all doing a rebuild?” I ask as our feet hit the landing.
“In a way,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “We decided a barndominium is in our best interest. It can be shipped in easy to assemble pieces which means we’ll be up and running before we thought we would.”
“Silver lining,” I tease as we enter the kitchen. “Where are the guys?”
“They took a ride to clear their heads, or so they said when they left,” she informs me.
“You don’t believe them?” I inquire.
“It’s not that I don’t believe them, but those guys are always on the hunt for the men who took you.
Plus, I’ve been temporarily banned from the hospital where my best friend is because I raised hell with the doctor.
So I’m sure Orion was heading there to see Skippy.
The guys try to stay with him when he goes if they can because they know if I threw shade, he’ll throw a bomb. ”
“She was taken like me?” I question. “I only heard bits and pieces while I was in the clinic, and a lot of it is a jumbled mess in my head because of the meds they gave me.”
“Morphine brain?” she asks, teasing me. “I work for the hospital, but luckily it’s in the risk management side, so I can do my work remotely so I don’t have to take any chances with my safety.”
“Was that your doing or Gemini’s?” I probe.
“Both,” she tells me. “When I was stalked by Allen, who’s the CEO’s grandson, I did everything in my power to spend as little time with him as I could.”
“He sounds like a creep,” I reply, shuddering at the memory of the men who took me. I never saw their faces, but their actions were shiver inducing.
“He’s definitely one of those, but apparently it’s hereditary, because his father and grandfather are the same,” she says, mimicking my actions. “Okay, enough talk about creeps who do nefarious things, let’s eat.”
“The apple didn’t fall far from the tree in that family, huh?” I ask as I make my way to the coffee pot. “First coffee, then food,” I decree.
She rolls her eyes at me and says, “You’re one of those kinds of people.”
“What kind of people is that?” I ask, not sure if I should resent her accusation or not.
“A coffee drinker,” she says, shuddering.
“I don’t know how you can stomach that, the taste alone makes me gag.
What sucks is I love the smell, and some of the creamers that are available now make me want to try again.
But I know me and I know I’ll likely spew it right back out so I won’t take the chance. ”
“I guess it’s a preference of some but not others. I need the jolt to wake me up and give me a jump start to my day,” I confess.
“I occasionally drink an energy drink but prefer my soda. Fountain is the best, of course, but give me some good ice and a carbonated beverage fizzing inside and I’m a happy camper.”
“What about the guys?” I question, my curiosity now roused.
“They enjoy a cup in the morning, but beer, whiskey, the occasional soda, and on a very rare occasion, ice water are their standard drinks. I suspect they’ll dabble in some heated beverages now that we’re out of the seventh pit of Hell and live in a state that has snow on a regular basis.”
“Maybe we need to see how to make hot toddies,” I suggest, giggling as I imagine their faces when they take that first sip.
She bursts out laughing then states, “I suspect it would be you and I enjoying those instead of the guys, but I guess we can try it and see.”
“Like one of my foster mommas used to say, it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” I sing.
“Did she do that a lot?” Sutton queries.
“I have no idea,” I remark. “They used to argue a lot, which is why that placement didn’t last long because divorce tore our makeshift family apart, but I suspect it was her go-to method of handling things.”
She looks at me and says, “That had to be difficult being moved frequently.”
“I learned early on not to get attached to people, places, or things,” I reply. “Because I could come home from school and find my stuff packed in a garbage bag with the social worker waiting to take me to my new placement.”
“I’m sorry,” she tells me. “I realize it’s meant to ensure all kids have homes, but from what I know, not all foster families are in it for the right reason.”
“She was,” I admit. “She obviously had the money the state sent, but she treated us like we were her own flesh and blood. I had brand new clothes, not thrift store finds or hand-me-downs, and when I was sick, she actually took me to the doctor. I had another house I was at where I ended up in the hospital because my ‘simple cold’ turned into pneumonia. I nearly died that time but it got me moved and that house closed down, so at least other kids didn’t suffer like I did. ”
“That’s almost as bad as the abuse, being neglected,” Sutton adds. “I hate it when people make you feel like the trash under their shoes.”
I shrug my shoulders because what’s the use in dwelling on the past. It won’t change what happened, but the lessons learned are unforgettable. I’m responsible for my future and that’s where I’ve placed my tunnel vision.