Epilogue Two
To fully understand the situation I’m in, we’d have to go back fifteen years, and start there.
It all started when I met her. Gloria. She’s my best friend.
She’s the person I’ve always turned to when I needed help or advice, and was always the same for her.
She’s the one I saw every movie release of the last decade or so with…
no, wait, that’s not true. Five years ago, she made a decision.
That decision changed my life along with hers.
I managed a few years in the same town as her, but it was too fucking hard, so I moved on.
I left the place I’d been born in, had grown up in, had fallen in love in, and had my heart broken in.
Phoenix MC is giving me a reason to live again, but how do I get my heart back from the woman I gave it to five years ago? I never got it back. I didn’t want it back, because she didn’t give me hers in return.
“Man, you’re wallowing again. Do you need to go see your girl?” I sighed heavily, tipping back the last of my beer.
“She’s not my girl.”
Rocket frowned at me, and that man saw way too much, understood more than I wanted him to, and always put words to the things I was trying to keep hidden in the silence.
“You want her to be, man. What’s holding you back?”
A week ago, Gloria called me in a panic, needed rescuing, and what did I do? I dropped everything. That’s what you do for friends, and even more, that’s what you do for people you love.
I always wondered why she cut off contact with me when she got married to him, but I get it now. That’s what he was doing. It started with isolating her from friends and family, and it ended with that traumatised, beaten woman, who huddled in the doorway and waited for me to save her.
I’ll always fucking save her.
“Grow some balls, man. I hear they like that.”
Withering glares didn’t work on my man, Rocket, but I loved that about him. He was a straight to the point kind of guy. He didn’t beat around the bush or hold back. He didn’t mince his words. If something had to be said, he would say it. Him and his old lady were so alike in that way.
“It’s not that simple, brother. She’s still trying to process everything and come to terms with it. I’m not a predator slinking around in the background waiting to jump on her.”
He grinned. “But you want to be.”
Did I? Jesus, at this point, I had no idea. What I did know was that I’d put her first. Always and for the rest of my life. If she didn’t choose me? If she never chose me? I might hide from seeing her daily again, but I’d still be her rock, her saviour. I’d still run if she needed my help.
“I’m such a pussy. I’m literally a doormat for her.”
Rocket slapped my back, nearly chipping my tooth on the beer bottle I’d just raised to my mouth.
“Fuck’s sake!”
“Ask her to kiss it better.”
“It’s not LIKE that!”
Someone stepped up behind us in the corner of the demolished yard, where we were both sitting facing the empty field to the left of the grounds, and we both froze.
We were supposed to be on prospect duty, and we were slacking.
By the sound of those heavy boots behind us, we’d just been caught.
We both wanted our forever cuts, we both wanted Phoenix colours for the rest of our lives.
For me, it was a new thing, a new goal, but for Rocket, it was him trying to regain what he’d thrown away.
Over, you’ve guessed it, a woman. Maybe all we did was make ourselves doormats for women, because if we have to beg for their love, maybe we’re willing to do whatever it takes.
“Prospects. You’re needed back on gate duty.”
I groaned, struggling up from the dusty ground, and turned to face Micro, the Club President.
“What about Joey and Simon?”
He shrugged. “Sent them on a run for more building supplies. Get over there.”
I sighed heavily, starting on my way to the gate, while Rocket grumbled to Micro.
“Nobody’s coming and going until they get back, Pres. Can’t we just take a breather for five?”
“Why don’t you take that question to the prospect complaints department, dickhead?”
I grinned. We both knew that was his way of saying suck it up and do your job.
Rocket at least only had two weeks of this.
I had almost another two months after he was done.
Still, it could be worse. I’d heard horror stories of some of the things they made prospects do, and even back at my old club, when I was younger, I’d had a fairly easy run.
Of course, back then, I’d also had Gloria to complain to each time we got together.
She was my ‘prospect complaints department’ and she got righteously angry on my behalf, and laughed over the funny moments with me.
Fuck, I’d missed her, and now she was back. Here in town, here in my life. Always in my heart. What the fuck was I supposed to do about that?
Ihad the evening free after spending all day manning a gate that barely needed to be opened, and intermittently helping out with clearing rubble away from the site. The place was literally just rubble and the barest mapping out of foundations right now, but one day it’d be amazing.
I dug out my phone as I arrived back at my flat, and dialled the number for my assistant.
“Hey, Na… Henley. Did I get that right?”
I grinned as I leaned against my kitchen wall, waiting for the kettle to boil.
“Almost, yeah. Look, the club compound is ready for us to set up temporary housing, how are we doing with getting that organised?”
Libby laughed, tapping away at her keyboard, because when you run a business like mine, you have people on standby day and night, and she’s currently working the evening slot.
“Okay, so we have five glamping sets packaged and on the truck for delivery tomorrow. Is that not soon enough?”
I pushed away from the wall and grabbed a coffee mug as the kettle boiled, making it strong and black, the way I preferred it.
“Nope, that’s perfect. Any issues though? I know we had some people wanting to hire them. I just… the club needs priority right now. These guys are pretty much homeless.”
“It’s all fine. We were able to convince those few pesky people to use one of our static camps, so they’re sorted. They just wanted somewhere they could have a retreat to, but Shady Lakes was perfect for that.”
Thank god. I didn’t want to turn business away, but that’s what Libby and the others in my team were for. Keeping people in our camps.
“Amazing, thank you. I’m not on duty until lunch tomorrow, am I needed anywhere?”
I could hear her clicking her mouse as she checked the calendar.
“No, we’re fine. I’ll need an in person meeting later in the week to sign off some upgrades, but that’s about it. How’s it going at the club? You said you were doing a temporary thing there?”
Yeah. Temporary. That was the problem with being a prospect.
It wasn’t a permanent residency, or even proper membership.
It was the whole ‘we’re trialling you in case we don’t like you’ situation, and I hated it.
After so long of feeling like a nomad, even if I didn’t technically call myself that, I just wanted somewhere to settle long term.
More than that, I wanted it to be Phoenix MC, because they were damn good people.
“Prospect duty. It’s about another two months of that, then I should get patched in. I hope.”
“You will. Who wouldn’t like you?”
A face swam into my mind, despite the efforts I’d been putting in to try and keep her out.
“Yeah. Some people don’t. Anyway, thanks for sorting that. I’ll let the Pres know to expect the driver. Do we have an ETA?”
“About lunchtime, so you might be there already.”
“Gotcha. Thanks, Libby.”
Despite my best efforts to not think about her, Gloria was on my mind all evening.
I’d taken to checking in a few times a day, and I was covering the costs of her hotel stay, but it’d been over a week now, and quite honestly, it felt like I’d dumped her somewhere unfamiliar instead of offering her something she could rely on as a known entity.
Me. I withheld me, and I had no idea why I didn't realise that at the time.
I dug out my phone, leaning back on my sofa and staring at it for so long that I wanted to slap myself. Just make the call, you cowardly prick.
Tapping the number of the phone I’d given her felt like making a long term decision that I couldn’t unmake. Was I about to fuck up everything? Again.
There was no reply, but then that was to be expected. I opened up a text message.
Me: Glory, it’s okay, it’s me. Pick up this time.
I gave her a few minutes, watching for a sign that she’d seen the message, and then I called again.
Her voice when she answered was so soft that I wanted to climb through the phone and hold her.
She’d lost all of her character thanks to that fucker.
She was so diminished from the person she’d been before marrying him. I missed the sass and the fire so much.
“Y-yes?”
“Glory, it’s just me. You’re safe.”
She released a shuddery breath. “I’m n-not. He’ll f-find me. He always d-does.”
Fuck me. Why did I put her somewhere alone like this? I fucked up big time.
“Sweetheart? I’m going to come and get you. Pack your things, and you’ll stay with me. He won’t find you here, and if he does, I’ll break every bone in his body before he reaches you.”
Her ragged breaths turned to sobs, and I wanted to punch myself for letting her suffer like this. Why the hell did I put her somewhere isolated like that? Why did I subject her to unfamiliarity, when she needed comfort and protection?
“Jesus, Glory. I’m so sorry. I messed this all up. I’m on my way, so if you’re not up to packing, I’ll help with it when I get there. You’ll get past this, I promise.”
She suddenly let out a panicked yelp, and her breathing went from raspy to ragged and frantic.
“He… he’s here! Oh god, he’s here.”
FUCK! I grabbed my helmet and ran to the door, but that’s when it hit me. I couldn’t do this on my ride. I couldn’t have my helmet on and stay talking to her, and she needed me right now.
I set the helmet back down and grudgingly grabbed my car keys, running out and locking up.
“I’m staying on the phone with you. Don’t open that fucking door whatever you do.”
I wished I could call up Micro and get some brothers out there to help me, not because I couldn’t break the fucker into pieces on my own, but because she needed support while I did just that.
I put the call on speaker, and lifted it away, opening up my text chat with Micro
Me: Need help. Spring Hotel, room 47.
I started up the car, and pulled out like a shot, my phone in the dashboard cradle, while I listened to the ragged breathing of the woman I’d run through fire to protect. I’d let her down, but it’d never fucking happen again.
Micro: On it. Be safe.
Thank fuck for that!