Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
brONWYN
Six months ago, I ran to Short for help, bringing Trip with me.
It seems to have flown by in a blink of an eye, but at the same time, I’m hard put some days to remember a time I lived without him.
We settled so easily into our relationship, I could fully believe I’ve ended up with the fairytale, one where princes wear black leather, that is.
Today is my day off. Short took Trip to school so I could enjoy a lie-in.
Now I’m elbow deep in soapy water washing up the breakfast things, as there was too little to put in the dishwasher.
My attention is caught by the way the sunlight and shadows alternately play on the flowers we’ve planted in the yard.
Then, turning to ensure I’ve fully removed everything needing rinsing from the table, a leather cut hanging on the back of the door catches my eyes, and I’m transported back to the day Short had given it to me.
I’d been in two minds about being labelled his property, but had been swayed by the reverence with which he offered the garment to me.
He’d asked me, right there, in the clubhouse, with all the brothers looking on.
I couldn’t have said no, not because of our audience, but because it obviously meant so much to him.
As time has passed, I’ve come to love wearing it. It makes me feel like I belong. And it’s certainly saved a few awkward moments when Kings from other chapters have turned up at the club.
And the club was certainly filled to overflowing at times, during the rebuilding of what, though it’s a very different construction now, they still refer to as ‘the barn’.
It wasn’t long after I first came to Short that the war with the MDMC razed the original bunkhouse to the ground.
I don’t think I appreciated the size of the Kings of Anarchy’s organisation until men from numerous other chapters had come to the compound.
At first, it was the visiting Kings from California, East Texas, and Georgia, who’d given their expertise on how to reconstruct the brothers’ accommodation.
For the first few days, they’d all worked together – after a bit of an uneasy start, or so Short had told me.
Once the final architectural plans had been drawn up and agreed upon – including the addition to the clubhouse of a medical room – Lunatic and Hardcore had organised some of their construction workers to come and work on the actual build.
Blitz, Rhino, and Token had taken on interviewing local companies to provide specialist expertise.
Once the construction project was underway, the Kings who’d initially helped us left for their homes.
Though Lunatic and Hardcore, the closest of the other chapters, had visited occasionally to make sure the progress was how they’d planned it.
Over time, men from other chapters had started stopping by, all with expertise they were willing to apply, whether as electricians, plumbers, or just extra hands to provide manual labour.
After they’d handed the rebuilding over to the experts, Short and his brothers turned their attention to fixing or replacing their bikes.
For the brothers whose bikes couldn’t be mended, some bought new, but most got second-hand.
There was a celebratory ride out the day all of them were mobile again.
Short had taken me on the back of his bike, just like he’d promised.
I quickly developed a love for being on two wheels, even if I’d been nervous to start with. Despite the risks I know only too well from shifts in the ER, I’ve become addicted to the wind in my hair and to seeing the world from a different perspective.
Oh, those were the days when I really started to appreciate my new life. Especially when Paint and Stalker had vacated our second bedroom. Short and my time together, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down, had been severely limited, and we’d had to get creative due to Trip sharing our room.
Though our forced abstinence made it seem longer, it was actually no time at all. Working her normal magic, Pippa had quickly managed to source half a dozen old trailers, which provided a roof and basic facilities for all those needing a place to lay their heads.
From later this week, they won’t be needed at all. A good thing, as spring is fast turning into summer, and those staying in them can’t wait to get into their new fully air-conditioned rooms. Let’s just say what’s available in the trailers is barely adequate.
It was a week ago when Short took me for a tour of the almost-completed bunkhouse, with just the finishing touches to be added.
I’d been impressed throughout the grand tour he’d given me.
All the rooms are of a good size, bright and airy.
He told me there are more bathrooms than there were before, but residents still have to share them.
Downstairs, there’s a laundry room and a kitchen.
The last task will be to fit fire alarms which not only sound in the barn, but are also wired to Genie’s security setup.
I know that brothers who’ve lost their previous homes are clamouring to take up residence, as are the club girls, and they’ll be allowed to move in once the security features have been installed and tested. The Kings are not taking any chances.
The prospects will also have their own rooms in the barn. My lips curve remembering how there are now three of them. I was in the clubhouse the day the new recruits first entered, shortly after the MDMC attacked the club.
Apparently, the two men were gravediggers who worked for Words.
Having a mental image of men covered in dirt and carrying shovels, I was intrigued when I’d first met them.
My initial thought had been they were twins, or at least brothers.
Both muscular men, which probably comes from their trade, they were both about five foot ten, and could be described as squat in stature.
Both had jet-black hair, shaggy black beards in need of a trim, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
At the time, both were wearing denim dungarees and blue short-sleeved button-downs.
I was stunned to learn they weren’t related.
I chuckle to myself. It was I who inadvertently named them, telling Short quietly, “They look like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”
Obviously, my voice wasn’t quiet enough as Rattler had overheard.
After they’d disappeared into Bullseye’s office, followed by Saint and a now fully healed Tempest, he’d repeated what I’d said in a very loud voice, and hence they got their names.
Well, a parody of what I’d suggested, they ended up with the handles, Dee and Dum.
It was apparently the first part of their initiation – they couldn’t complain about their new road names.
Five months on and they’re fixtures in the clubhouse.
Now dressed in the biker’s normal uniform of jeans, t-shirt – normally black – boots and cut, it’s still hard to tell them apart.
The men have just taken to calling out “Dee” or “Dum” and not caring which of them actually answers.
I’m sure the pair must have an interesting backstory, but if they do, so far, they haven’t divulged it.
Their humour is subtle, and again, seems to be shared. One morning, I was at the clubhouse. They’d appeared both wearing identical shirts, the slogan on them reading, Girls Dig Gravediggers. I’d just about cracked up laughing.
Yeah, I’m smiling and laughing a lot now, and doing other things I wouldn’t have dreamed of.
I’ve got a solid friend in Pippa, and surprisingly, Trixie too, who, for a club girl, has her head screwed on the right way.
Heaven, Star, and Sweetie tend to keep their distance, but as long as they stay away from Short, they don’t bother me.
While I know Short’s got a past that includes the club girls, I’m confident my man would never step out on me.
Why so sure? Well, apart from believing he loves me as much as I love him, Short wouldn’t have the energy.
From being scared and worried about sex, I seemed to have become a fiend.
I love the feeling of Short moving inside me, the intimacy, the closeness.
Barely a day goes by without us getting down and dirty at least once, and normally two or three times if we can get the chance.
Take today, he’ll probably come home for a quickie at lunchtime, and I’ll be ready and waiting for him.
I’ve come a long way from that girl who’d been so abused, she couldn’t bear to be touched by a man. That brief memory of the past has my thoughts turning to my mom.
After her appearance at the clubhouse, she’d dropped out of sight.
One thing I’m certain of is the Kings had no hand in wherever she’d gone, or whatever had happened to her.
They’d not hidden what they’d done when they’d dealt with my father, and I know they’d have come clean, or at least Short would have, if they were involved in her disappearance.
I couldn’t give a fuck, one way or another.
As for me, Short, and Trip, we’ve stayed in this house, deciding, for now at least, not to go with Short’s original intention to flip it.
I love living here, maybe it’s because it’s the first place where I’ve ever really felt at home.
Once we made the decision to stay, Short decided to build on a couple of rooms. When the main building work at the barn was well underway, he purloined a couple of the builders to construct a two-storey extension on our house.
Short and I now have an amazing master bedroom complete with an en suite, and a shower that both of us can fit in at once.
Oh, and my favourite feature is a claw-footed tub.
Trip’s moved into the larger of the original rooms, leaving one spare for guests.
And downstairs, in addition to the lounge, we now have a family room.