Chapter 12
Dixie
I stare at him in disbelief. He can't be serious right now. He’s amazing. So much better than I ever thought I’d be able to find in a man.
Storm has his own business outside of the club. He’s been an electrician since before he joined the club and he kept his business going.
I remember overhearing a conversation when I was little about Storm.
Dad was talking with some older members.
They didn’t like the idea of Storm having a business that wasn’t associated with the club.
Dad stood up for him. He argued this could be good for the club.
It shows how the Savage Wolves aren’t just a bunch of bikers with no skills.
He fought until everyone saw it his way and Storm was able to continue working as an electrician.
“You’re not just the vice president of a motorcycle club,” I whisper as I stare into his eyes and thread my fingers through his long hair. “You have your own business. That sounds like a pretty successful career.”
“I'm not what you want, Dixie. You want a man who is kind, handsome, and loving. You want someone who will protect you and give you the perfect life.”
He sounds so destroyed. So broken over the fact he’ll never be what he thinks I want in life. He couldn’t be more wrong.
“I'm pretty sure I want someone who will put me before everything else in life and love me more fiercely than anyone has ever loved me before. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“You know the club comes first.”
“Which is why you’ve never been an option for me,” I whisper, dropping my gaze to his chest.
Without a word, Storm wraps his large arms around me and holds me close to him. He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head before he buries his face in the crook of my neck.
No matter how hard he holds me, I feel like my heart is breaking. I knew Storm would never be mine, but there have been so many times over the years where he seems like he’s within my grasp. Each time he gets ripped away from me makes me want to scream out in misery.
Nothing’s worse than being in love with someone who can never give you what you want.
“I’m sorry, Little Fox. I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” he murmurs against my neck.
“I think I should go.” I clench my jaw to try and ward off the tears I know are threatening. I don’t want him to see them. If he does, he won't let me leave and I know it.
“You don’t have to.” He pulls back and cups my cheeks in his hands.
“Yes, I do. I never should’ve come here to begin with. I knew better.” I try to push away from him, but he doesn’t allow that.
“You promised me four weeks of dinners.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I arch a brow.
He searches my eyes, trying to figure out what to say. A way to keep me coming back here. Even though we both know this can't happen, we don’t want to walk away. We don’t want to give up hope.
“It’s the only way I’ll be able to convince the guys to let you cook something different.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. He chose the one route he knew would keep me coming back. I’d do almost anything to have more control over what I have to cook for the clubhouse every day.
“I’ll see you next Saturday,” I murmur as I climb off his lap and grab my phone.
I only glance over my shoulder as I exit his place. It was a mistake. I never should’ve looked back at him.
I find him leaning forward so his elbows are on his knees. His face is in his hands and he looks completely broken and miserable. I swallow hard as the tears come faster than I can handle and soon they’re slipping down my cheeks.
One day, he’s going to be my destruction and I know it.
“Are you doing ok?” Chopper asks as he places his plate in the dishwasher.
Though I cook for everyone, Dad makes the prospects deal with the dishes. The guys will rinse their things and place them in the dishwasher, but the prospects handle the rest. It makes this slightly more tolerable than it could be and a lot less work for me.
“I'm fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I grind out through clenched teeth.
I angrily swipe a blonde lock of hair out of my face and turn back to the dough I'm kneading. I normally love making bread. It’s one of my favorite things to do, but today it’s making me angry.
“Oh, I don’t know. The dark bags under your eyes and your jaw being clenched so tight you have a muscle popping makes it seem like something might be wrong.”
I lift my gaze and glare in his direction. The last thing I want to deal with is one of the guys being a little too probing. To notice a little too much about me right now.
“But, hey, I'm known to be wrong about these types of things. I don’t know anything. Maybe you’re completely fine and you just like scaring the big, tough, bikers. You’re making Storm look like a cuddly teddy bear right now, so props to you.”
“Don’t you have someone else to annoy? I’m sure Roxy could use someone to irritate her right now.” I toss the dough on the counter and fold my arms over my chest.
“Roxy only hates me slightly less than you do right now. What’s going on, Dix? You know we’ve always been friends. You can talk to me.” Chopper hops up on the counter and swings his legs like a child.
It’s almost comical seeing him like this.
His blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and his beard hangs low on his chest. The tattoos peeking out from beneath his t-shirt make him look dangerous and like someone you don’t want to mess with.
If I were anyone else, I might be scared of him, but I know Chopper.
He’d never do anything to hurt someone, unless they deserved it.
“I'm just tired of working for the club. I want to do my own thing.”
“You know Porter’s never going to allow that. He wouldn’t risk something happening to you.”
“I know! You know what sucks, Chopper? You chose to be here. You were able to make the decision. I didn’t get that!
I wanted to make a name for myself and have my own business, but I don’t get to even try.
Storm can have his own company and a bunch of the guys can hold normal jobs, but I'm stuck doing whatever I'm told to do and I'm fed up with it! Jeez, I can't even date who I want because my father controls everything that happens in this stupid club. It’s not fair! This club has taken everything from me.”
“Dixie-” Chopper begins, but he gets cut off by a deep voice at the door to the kitchen.
“Get out,” he growls.
“I… I didn’t do anything.” Chopper stares at Storm over his shoulder.
“I didn’t say you did. Get out so I can talk to Dixie alone.” He watches me as Chopper slowly lowers himself from the counter and walks towards the door.
I don’t back down. I'm not embarrassed or upset about Storm overhearing what I said. He knows how I feel and I don’t care.
I hate this place. I’ve thought about running away so many times, but they’ll come after me.
There’s no way they’ll ever let me live the way I want to. Not unless they can't find me.
“I don’t want to talk to you, Storm. There’s nothing left to say.”
Slamming down a cutting board on the counter, I grab the vegetables I need to prep for dinner. I angrily chop them, not wanting to meet Storm’s gaze.
“I think there’s a lot left to say.”
“It doesn’t matter! It’s never going to change. Not as long as I live here.”
“You’re not moving,” he growls as he stalks closer.
“What other option do I have!” I chop harder, losing control on my emotions.
I let out a gasp as the knife slices through my skin. Blood drips from the tip of my finger and onto the cutting board.
Storm is at my side and lifting me onto the counter a second later. He steps between my legs and takes my injured hand in his.
He wraps my finger in a white towel and squeezes it tightly to try and slow the bleeding.
“Look at me, Little Fox,” he murmurs. He waits until I meet his gaze, then he continues. “You have other options. Give me a few days to look into some things before you make any decisions. Let me help you.”
“There’s nothing you can do.”
“There is, but you have to give me a chance. Give me until Saturday. Deal?” He ducks to meet my gaze.
I let out a long sigh, but I nod my head. I wouldn’t be able to figure things out before then anyway. I might as well give him some time. I can start figuring out my next move while I wait.
“Good. Now, let’s get this cleaned up and make sure you don’t need stitches.”