Chapter 6
CLAIRE
Savage leaves in a bit of a rush, but I’m too excited about Aurora saying Mama to think too much about it.
Maybe he has work to do or something came up.
I’m glad he was here to share this happy event with me, though.
As strange as it sounds, I like his company, and it may not be smart of me, but I’m getting used to the way he treats me.
I’m getting used to how everyone acts around here.
I’m getting used to not always being afraid.
I wonder if Aurora’s new word would have happened without the great food, peaceful rest, and the kindness everyone here has shown us.
I owe all of this to Savage.
After he leaves, I play with Aurora and feed her dinner, then give her a bath as best I can in the bathroom sink and change her for bed.
Even if she doesn’t understand that she’s reached a new milestone, I think all my excitement has made her a little fussy.
I struggle to settle her down and get her to sleep.
She keeps sitting up in the crib and calling, “Mama. Mama.” Now that she knows how that works, I have a feeling I’m going to be hearing a lot of it.
Once she’s dozing off in the crib, I set up the baby monitor. I don’t plan on using it, but I don’t want it to go to waste. Maybe I can shower at night after she goes to sleep and bring the monitor into the bathroom with me.
I settle onto the couch with the laptop Savage gave me. I can hardly believe I have one, and even if I don’t keep it forever, I can use this to look for a job and write up a new résumé. The possibilities have me nearly giddy.
I do wish Savage had stayed to hang out with me, though. It’s a weird thing to feel, and an even weirder thing to admit, but he has a gentle confidence.
It’s like he thinks problems are just things to be solved and not earth-shattering tragedies.
Everything that happened made Anthony angry, and while I loved him once, by the time I got pregnant with Aurora, I was so exhausted managing his reactions to things, I shifted to trying to prevent problems just so I wouldn’t have to deal with his rage later.
But that’s the thing about life.
You can never stop it from happening.
I open a browser on the laptop and search for any information I can find about Anthony’s accident. There isn’t much. Just a small write-up in the local news. Not even his name is included. If I didn’t know the details already, I’d never know for sure that this was about him.
Local Man Dies in Motorcycle Accident
Officers responded to a call of a motorcycle overturned on SR 19.
Damage to the bike appeared consistent with a side impact.
No other vehicles or witnesses to the incident were on the scene.
The rider, a male in his early thirties whose identity is being withheld pending notification of his next of kin, was found deceased several feet away.
Injuries appeared consistent with being thrown from the motorcycle, but the investigation is ongoing.
It’s hard to summon any emotions reading the article.
Yes, I know this is my daughter’s father they are writing about.
Yes, he’s dead, and he’s never coming back.
I cried my eyes out for two days over losing the financial security Anthony provided and for the man I once loved, but that part of him died a long time ago.
By the time I stopped crying, I realized how much worse things were going to get for me. Mad Dog and I fought constantly.
I wanted the club to give me Anthony’s savings and let me and Aurora leave.
But Mad Dog brought out a laundry list of shit Anthony had done, money he owed the club.
The short answer was that I wasn’t going to get anything, and I was going to be quiet and thankful they hadn’t kicked me out on my ass the minute Anthony was gone.
Three days.
He’d only been gone three days when Savage found me. The black eye I have now is the last thing Anthony ever gave me.
That was his choice.
His legacy was violence and cruelty.
It will not be what defines the rest of my life. Only that chapter.
And with the help of Savage and the people under this roof, I plan on rewriting my future.
I walk over to the crib and check on Aurora.
She’s sleeping peacefully, so I settle back on the couch and open another browser window.
It’s been years since I had access to a computer that wasn’t ancient, and Anthony crushed my phone in our last fight so I’ve been cut off from everything for nearly a week.
I don’t have the passwords to any of my old social media accounts memorized. Instead, I just Google one name: Dawn Taylor.
Immediately, a ton of old pictures and photos come up. Grainy clips posted to YouTube, gorgeous black-and-white images scanned to the internet from decades-old scrapbooks and photo albums from years ago. I load up a video on YouTube, turn the sound very low, and maximize the screen.
In the video, the band Neon Dawn takes the stage at a packed bar.
The house lights are down, and a spotlight comes up on the lead singer, my mother, Dawn Taylor.
She shakes the long waves of her chestnut-brown hair, eyes crystal blue like Aurora’s underneath closed lids that sparkle with bright-blue eye shadow.
As the opening beats pick up, Mom opens her eyes, gives the crowd a sultry grin, and she sings.
I watch video after video of Mom, aging through the years as Neon Dawn played small venues all over the country.
When I finally reach the videos when Mom is pregnant with me, leaning on a stool as she sings, even with a massive belly, the tears start to come.
I miss her so much.
I wish she were alive now.
If she were, I might never have dated Anthony. Which means I’d never have Aurora. This is a drain I circle too many times in my head.
Anthony came into my life like a grief-busting tank, sweeping me onto his bike and into his life when I was so lost and so alone that all I wanted was a break from the sadness. I had no idea how to judge good from evil back then.
I am still all alone, but I don’t feel that way. I could open the door to my room or send a text, and I believe in my heart that within five minutes, someone—Stella, Poppy, even Phantom—would be at my door with their arms, wallets, and hearts wide open.
And then of course, there is Savage. Who did all of that and more for me. Whether or not I’m na?ve, I believe that he would do anything I asked and that we’re truly safe. That no harm will come to me while I’m here under his protection and under the roof of the Hurricane Heat.
I hardly see Savage over the next week, but the time passes quickly. Stella visits me every morning, and Poppy stops by a couple times to chat. Shadow’s wife Violet comes by and brings me an e-reader she’s not using, and she sets me up with a digital library card, which is amazing.
Day by day, my eye heals, and my heart begins to think about what comes next.
I miss seeing Savage and start to feel the urge to get out of my room.
Aurora and I haven’t been outside since the day we shopped, and other than showering and eating in the compound kitchen, I am already feeling a little anxious to get out in the world again.
I don’t know where I’d go, though, or what I’d do.
Then I get an idea.
I grab my phone and send Savage a text.
Me: Sorry to bother you, but do you think maybe Tank or someone could give me a ride today? I was thinking about going someplace to do some work on my laptop.
His reply comes back in minutes.
Savage: Never a bother. How soon will you be ready?
I’m ready now. I already packed up Aurora’s new diaper bag and slipped my laptop inside, so I tell him we’re good and we can go anytime.
Me: Anytime. Whenever it’s convenient.
Savage: I’ll come get you.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock at my door. I nearly launch myself toward it with a stupid grin on my face. “Hi,” I say, holding the door open with a foot while I grab the diaper bag.
Today, I’m wearing my long hair loose. A black one-piece jumper may not be the most practical outfit, but after wearing those cutoff shorts for so many days, I don’t even want to think about putting on shorts again.
The top of the jumpsuit has tank-top-style straps that look like they are tied with bows, but which are sturdy enough that Aurora can grab on to my shoulders and not yank them down.
Savage’s nostrils flare as he looks at my outfit from shoulders to toes. Then he locks his eyes on mine. He opens his mouth to speak but then says nothing. Just clamps his jaws together.
My stomach sinks. I feel like I’ve made him mad, and my confidence starts to waver.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Did I—”
He holds up a hand. “Don’t apologize. You look fucking beautiful. Your eye is healing well. Your hair…” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his own hair. “I’m sorry. I’ve been staying away to give you space, and I’m sorry. I think I needed space too.”
I try to gather up the pieces of my confidence. Whatever is going on with him has nothing to do with me or anything I’ve done wrong.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “If you needed space, is it because I did something to upset you or stress you out?”
I prepare myself for whatever the answer is. I don’t want this guy I hardly know to be mad at me. He’s done so many things for us that maybe the money he’s spent and the fact that Aurora will need new diapers soon is all getting to be too much.
Before he can answer, I move Aurora to my other arm and meet his eyes. “I’m going to start looking for a job,” I tell him. “Aurora will need more diapers and baby food soon. I plan to get on my feet so I’m not your problem anymore. I want you to know that.”
His eyes shift, and he looks at me with something that feels raw and vulnerable. I brace myself for what’s coming. He’s going to ask us to leave, or…
“You’re not my problem,” he growls, his words coming from a place deep in his throat. “Never fucking think that way.”