Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
STORM
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Mom, I’m fine. I’ve just been working non-stop, and what little time we have off together, we just want to spend it alone. That’s all,” I lie to her down the phone.
“It’s been two weeks! Two weeks, and we have never gone that long in seeing each other. Even Maisy said she hasn’t heard from you, and when I asked Hendrix, he said you’ve not replied to him,” she huffs.
I bite the skin around my thumbnail, the area already sore from my anxious nibbling.
I had muted Drix, and I didn’t want Zeke seeing him messaging me.
He had messaged apologising, said it was his fault and that we could still be friends.
I hadn’t replied, even though I wanted to.
I wanted to tell him we were still friends, that all was okay, but I couldn’t.
Zeke had asked me to give them some distance, and I promised him I would.
Hell, if I saw him kissing someone else, I would have slapped the hell out of him and her.
“Storm,” Mom calls.
I focus back on her, not realising I had zoned out. “Drix kissed me,” I sigh, telling her a partial truth.
My mom gasps. “I knew it,” she hisses. “All these years, Maggie and I have said that he’s always had a soft spot for you.”
“Mom, I’m with Zeke, and he saw,” I explain.
“He better not be treating you badly for one incident.” Her tone turns threatening.
I roll my eyes. I could literally murder someone, and she would find a way to blame the deceased for it.
“No, Mom, he’s been understanding.” I wince at that lie.
“He just needs some reassurance, some time for us to work it out. That is all it is, okay? I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself,” I add, knowing full well she is probably messaging Maggie as we speak.
“No one will think any less of you. You’re human. Whether you want to admit it or not, you and Hendrix have a powerful bond.”
“I was expecting you to be a little pissed. I know how you feel about cheating,” I counter, trying to steer her away from the ‘me and Drix being destined to be together’ crap.
“Did you stop it?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Are you cheating with Hendrix behind Zeke’s back?” she asks.
“Hell no!” I snap.
“Then you had a blip. You’re a good girl, and we raised you right.
You made a mistake and now you’re making it right.
Just don’t change who you are because you feel guilty.
Zeke seems like a nice guy, but no man is worth changing yourself for, and if things get nasty, you have rusty and dusty,” she adds.
I roll my eyes. My sixteenth birthday gift, a pair of brass knuckle dusters, were engraved with a message from my mom. When I am not there, you have these. Knock them the fuck out.
“Love you, Mom.” I smile.
“Love you, baby girl, but come by the clubhouse tomorrow. Let your dad see that you are alright. He won’t believe me, and to be honest, I want proof, too.”
“Okay. I have work, but I finish at six. I will swing by then,” I tell her. The front door opens, and in walks Zeke. “I have to go now, Mom. See you tomorrow.” I smile at him and give him a little wave.
“See you tomorrow, beautiful!” she sings before I disconnect.
I place my cell down and walk over to Zeke, wrapping my arms around his neck. I lean up and press my lips to his. He holds me against him, his hands stroking up and down my back.
“You’re going to the club tomorrow?” he asks. His fingertips glide over the last of the wounds healing on my back. Most have scabbed over; only the larger ones remain.
“Yeah, Mom wants to see me, and Dad wants actual physical proof that I am not abducted or dead.” I chuckle softly, rolling my eyes. His fingers dig into my back slightly, catching on one of the scabs of my cuts. I hiss in pain and flinch. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Why don’t we car share tomorrow? I’ve been invited out for a meal and drinks with some of the surgical team. Be great if you could pick me up after,” he suggests.
I nod. “Sure. Just message me when you’re ready to be picked up.” I press a chaste kiss to his mouth before pulling away. “I ordered in from that Thai restaurant in town that you like,” I call over my shoulder as I walk into the kitchen to plate up the food.
“Takeout again? Jesus. I will need to try and fit in another session at the gym.” He sighs in annoyance.
“I haven’t had a chance to grab any groceries. You could have picked some up,” I bite back.
He opens the fridge and pulls out a beer.
He’s been drinking more over these past couple of weeks; not heavily, but a lot for him.
He said on reflection that he didn’t have a problem with alcohol, only that he would steer clear of the hard stuff.
Often, the nights ended with me going to bed, and him stumbling into bed hours later, his breath stinking of alcohol.
“There you go,” he sighs. “Do you think we could have just one night without your smart mouth?”
I pause dishing up and look at him. “Bad day?” It was never an excuse, but whenever it was a stressful day or he lost a patient, he would be in an attacking mood.
He rubs his face. “It’s always a bad day right now.”
“It will get better. There will be that one day that will remind you why you do what you do,” I say softly.
“Yeah, try telling that to the patient’s husband and crying kids,” he seethes. “Do you know what? I’m not hungry. Just leave mine.” He sighs and walks out of the kitchen.
I stand there, staring at his plate of food and decide to take it to him. He might change his mind. I grin at him as I walk over to him, placing it down on the new wooden coffee table.
“In case you change your mind.”
He looks at the plate of food, then back to me, his demeanour shifting. His jaw is set tight. “I said I don’t want it,” he seethes through gritted teeth.
“Fine, don’t eat it. I was just trying to do something nice after your shitty day, but you just continue to be a dick about it!” I snap back, snatching the plate back off the coffee table. I storm off into the kitchen, dropping his plate in the sink before walking into the bedroom and going to bed.
I’m not sure what the time is. The room is in complete darkness, but the sound of Zeke stumbling and cursing under his breath has woken me. I rub my eyes and sit up to put the lamp on. He’s slumped on the bed, his jeans halfway down his thighs. I sigh and get out of bed to help him undress.
“Yeah, baby,” he slurs.
“No,” I huff as I yank down his jeans.
“Thought you bikers were good little whores. You don’t even suck dick anymore,” he mumbles.
I pause, looking at him. He’s a nasty drunk, and it’s something I’m only now becoming aware of.
Is this why he was never really a drinker before?
I brush off his comment and heave his legs onto the bed.
After pulling the blanket over him, I climb back on my side of the bed.
I don’t fall asleep for a long time, staring into the darkness of the room, questioning if moving in with Zeke was the best move. Or did I make a huge mistake?