Chapter 22 #2
I’m not blind. I don’t live in a vacuum.
I see people having healthy relationships all around me.
On my rotation in a maternity ward, I see women having babies quite happily.
Well, discounting the screaming and verbal abuse they extend to their partners while in labour.
After their babies are born, they seem ecstatic to have brought new life into the world together.
But that’s not how it happened in my case. It’s mainly down to the experience that scarred me, or it might be I’m just built differently, but the thought of any man putting his penis near me fills me with horror and disgust. And if that’s what Short expects, he’s in for a rude awakening.
Even if there’s a pull toward him that I can’t understand.
Short seems to accept he’s given me enough to think about. “You must be fuckin’ drained dry after this evening. I don’t mind if you want to go to bed now. Or, if you want to talk more, I’m happy to stay and chat with you.”
Bed? My brain fixates on that one word. “Are... are you staying here tonight?”
“What part of ‘protect’ you, don’t you understand?” He chuckles softly. “I always intended to stay here tonight, and now it’s more imperative.”
“Dad won’t find me here.”
“Not talking about that son of a bitch, I’m talking about you. Getting the truth off your chest must have brought many things to the surface, and I know I handled it badly. You probably think I’m an ass. But I’m worried about you, Bron. I want to be close if you have a nightmare.”
My reply comes lightning fast. “I can’t sleep with you.”
Again, he gives that chuckle. “Not expecting that darlin’.
You’ve got a lot to work through, and probably a fuckton of therapy before or if that’s ever on the table.
So, push that worry out of your mind. I’m not your dad.
I’m never going to force you.” He takes a step closer to me.
“I owe you an apology, Bron. I came down fuckin’ hard on you when you didn’t deserve any of those angry words.
And that was all down to me, not you. Kind of built you up in my head.
Thought you were innocent. No.” He holds up his hand to stop me from interrupting.
“I know what you’re thinking, and maybe you’re right.
My thinking you were a virgin wasn’t some shit about how some men value a woman being untouched.
They exist for sure, but I’m not one of them, okay?
I’ve never had any desire to be anyone’s first. It’s nowhere on my bucket list, I assure you.
What I’m talking about is me thinking you were unsullied by our world, and how I would have been wrong to bring you into it.
“I’m not a good man, Bron. None of us in the club is.
Not when you get to the deep heart of it, but the shit that I’ve done?
Doesn’t come anywhere near as immoral as what your dad did to you.
I thought you were someone untouchable, someone to keep away from the darkness of our lives.
But you know what? Through no fault of your own, you’re already on the dark side, and maybe instead of pulling you down further into it, maybe my role is to help you back into the light. ”
I’m completely blown away by his monologue, which can be summarised simply. “I shattered your image of me.”
He gives a crooked grin. “‘Bout sums it up, darlin’. Yeah, I thought you were one thing, swung that pendulum too fuckin’ far the other way when I saw you as another.
Jumped to conclusions I shouldn’t have. Took you being brave enough to share the truth with me to understand how fuckin’ brave you are and how you’re the very epitome of a hero in this story. ”
“I’m no hero.”
He captures my eyes with his. “Believe me, you are. You got Trip out of that nightmare and ran to the Kings.”
My head shakes automatically, but if that’s what he wants to believe, I’m not going to stop him.
It’s a one hundred percent improvement over what he called me earlier this evening.
And, we’ve cleared the air. The elephant in the room is now out in the open, and Short’s treating me like a friend again.
I’m drained, worn out, but far from sleepy. If I go to bed now, those nightmares he referred to are pretty much destined to appear tonight. I’d like to feel more relaxed before I attempt to close my eyes.
“Would you…” I start shyly. “Would you mind if we stayed up and talked some more?”
Instead of giving me a verbal reply, Short starts searching the cupboards, grins when he finds the whisky, and brings it out. He waves the bottle toward me, but I shake my head.
“Wine?” he asks.
I hold my finger and thumb just a fraction apart. “Just a tiny glass, please.”
He looks like he’s tipped out half the bottle, but not wanting to be rude, I take it anyway. I only need to drink a little, then, when he’s not looking, pour the rest out. Well, that’s my intention. But the wine actually tastes quite nice, and I doubt I’ll want to waste it.
“Let’s take these through to the lounge and get comfortable.” When I don’t immediately move to follow him, he looks back. “What’s up?”
Now we’re alone, I can ask the question I really want to put to him, but I’m nervous, afraid of the answer.
I swallow a couple of times, take a sip of my wine as if it’s going to have an immediate effect, then summon up the courage. “What exactly do you mean when you said you’d claim me?”
“Come and sit down. We need to have this conversation, and we might as well take the weight off our feet as we do so.” This time, he doesn’t turn back as he makes his way through to the next room.
Knowing I’ll get no explanation waiting on my own, I trail after him.
I’m in time to see him sit back on the recliner, letting out a satisfied sigh as he plonks his ass down, leans back, and kicks up his feet.
He then takes a sip of whisky, half pulls himself up, and then rolls his eyes and groans.
With the way he’s holding his glass, he was obviously looking for somewhere to place it down, but beside him is only air.
“Fuckin’ prospects,” he comments under his breath. “Leaving a job half done.”
“Were they supposed to get end tables?” I sit on the couch. It’s worn but serviceable. The broken springs, as I’ve already learned, are at the other end from where I’m sitting. I realise I’ve got the same problem as him, so bending forward, I place my glass on the floor.
Leaning back again and cradling his glass in his hands, Short shakes his head. “They got all I told them to. My fault for not thinking it through. Though I’d hoped they’d show some forward thinking.”
“I think they’ve done a good job.” I look around, remembering how the place looked when I’d first walked in. “At least we’ve a place to sit. And hell, that’s one giant TV.”
“You want it on?” he offers.
Moving my head side to side, I remind him, “I’d rather have an answer to my question.”
“About being claimed?” I nod.
He takes another sip of whisky, then leans back his head, closing his eyes for a moment before reopening them. “You know what being claimed means?”
“Saint claimed Pippa. I know that much. I also saw the patch on the back of the cut she was wearing tonight. It denoted that she’s Saint’s property.
I have to admit I’m shy of the term, as I know I don’t want to be held prisoner or be beholden to any man.
I’ve already suffered a controlling father. ”
“Point taken.” Short sets his eyes on me.
“I don’t want, desire, or need to control either you or your son.
” Something warms inside me as he so easily acknowledges the relationship I’ve always had to deny.
Suddenly, he bursts out laughing. “You really think Saint controls Pippa? If anything, theirs is a mutual arrangement. They balance each other.” He sits forward again, twisting his glass between his hands.
“Being club, or a man’s property, is a term we don’t take lightly.
It’s old-fashioned, I know, but it denotes something we care for.
More than that, something we’d die for. And when a property claim is made, the whole club steps up and offers protection. ”
I consider for a moment, then ask, “How would that look?”
“You’ve got your studies to complete, yes?
” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “So, you need to stay close by. And your father needs to be kept away from you. The Kings of Anarchy can guarantee you safety from him, but you’re not club.
So, unless I make a claim on you, that protection isn’t automatically forthcoming.
You mentioned Pippa? She gets our protection whenever it’s warranted by virtue of being claimed by Saint.
” He snorts a laugh. “Not that you’d think she needs help protecting herself.
” He sobers quickly. “But you’d be surprised.
She’s probably still got enemies out there.
And if they find her and resurface, well, they’ll have to get through the Kings before they can touch her. ”
My eyes widen. I didn’t know that. I go to comment, then I notice there’s something about the way he takes more whisky into his mouth, and swirls it around before swallowing, which makes me think he’s got more to say, and is just gathering his thoughts.
I’m proved right when he starts speaking again.
“I didn’t want an ol’ lady, never thought about being tied down.
But you, Bronwyn.” Now his dark eyes pierce into mine.
“You, I think I could tolerate being around all the time.” He barks a laugh.
“Fuck of a compliment, eh? But we don’t know enough about each other to say we could have something permanent, but maybe for the here and now.
I am willing to make a commitment to keep my dick away from the club girls, so I wouldn’t embarrass you. ”
The club girls. Yeah, I’m not blind. I know their purpose around the men, and would object except they seem happy doing things that would turn my stomach. But there’s something I need to make clear to him.
“Dad hurt me, Short. I don’t want him, or anyone else, to ever touch me again. I can’t be a substitute for your club women.”
“Fuck, Bron. I’m not stupid. I already told you.
You’re going to need therapy and time, but hell, girl, I hope you get there in the end.
There’s a lot of pleasure to be had between a woman and a man, and no pain when it’s done right.
” He drains his whisky glass. “I’ve got a right hand and will just have to get more familiar with it.
Ain’t going to be pressuring you into anything.
To be totally honest, I’m not even sure if I could be the one to teach you how to find pleasure.
We spend time getting used to each other, seeing if it’s something we like.
If it ends up with us parting ways sooner rather than later, well, so be it. ”
“You don’t get much out of this,” I observe.
“Don’t I?” His gaze comes to me again. “I get the satisfaction of rescuing you from a bad life, just like the Kings did for me. Paying it forward, if you like.”
Still not understanding how he could give up his freedom like that, probably against my better instincts, I remind him I’m a package deal. “I won’t leave Trip.”
“I’ll claim the boy, too,” he says fast. “That goes without saying. Already made that clear to the VP.”
“It isn’t too much to ask of you?”
“Nah. Perhaps I’d like to do something good in my life. Even if I end up with blue balls.”
“Not a medical term.” As the inappropriate comment slips out, I slap my hand over my mouth, but he just chuckles.
“Sure can feel like it, Nurse Bronwyn,” he retorts. Then he pulls himself out of his recliner and waves his empty glass. “I’m getting a refill. You want one?”
Bemused, I realise, while we’ve been talking, I’ve actually drained my glass. More confident now that he’s not going to pressure me into something I don’t want to do, I nod shyly. “Just a…”
“Smidgeon,” he finishes for me with a grin. “Sweetheart, if you’re my ol’ lady, then it’s my job to look after you. And I happen to like you tipsy, but relatively sober.”
My mind’s still on our previous conversation. “Do you really mean no sex?” I want his confirmation.
“No sex,” he replies firmly.
Then, as he disappears to refresh our drinks, I feel a ridiculous wave of disappointment go through me.
He said he didn’t think he could be the man to show me pleasure.
Of course, he’s not attracted to me, and won’t find it difficult to control himself.
I’m nothing like any of the women he’s surrounded by.
I’m too fat, as Dad constantly reminded me.
My hair is lank and long, and definitely not styled, and I’ve never worn a lick of makeup in my life.
I’m dowdy, having lost my youthful bloom.
Even my dad hasn’t touched me for years – something I’m entirely grateful for, but which confirms I’ve got nothing to attract a man.
By the time Short’s back, putting a half-filled glass in my hand, I’m still trying to convince myself it’s a good thing Short’s not going to get aroused around me. I’m grateful I’ve got nothing to worry about.
Aren’t I? So why do I feel disappointment?
It seems important to make something clear.
Short’s a good man. I can’t trap him into a quasi-relationship he can’t want.
“If I agree to this, it’s only temporary.
Just so long as I need protection. As soon as I can, I’ll find a place for me and Trip, and then you can get back to…
” My words trail off. Fucking the whores, was what I was thinking.
Short’s looking at me pensively. After a moment, he grimaces. “Whatever you want, darlin’. The moment you want out of this, I’ll lift my claim on you.”
He’s given me exactly what I want, an assurance I’m not committing to anything long term. Exactly what I want. So why do I feel like I’ve won the battle but lost the war, and don’t have any idea what I’ve been fighting for?
This has turned into a too-heavy conversation, so I decide to try to lighten the mood. “If I’m going to be your ol’ lady, am I entitled to know why a giant like you is called Short?”