Chapter Twenty-Nine
Blaze
I stood in the shower, letting the water splash over me while I collected my thoughts. No one except old man Winehopper and Makaveli seemed to be happy for us. I wondered if it was the first thing in life they’d ever agreed on, but I didn’t bother asking Marchella. She was looking rather numb after her introduction to my mother.
“Fuck,” I whispered, into the cascade of water.
Warm droplets sprayed into my mouth, and I swiped it away and abruptly shut the water off. It was already considerably cooler than it was when I’d started. I slid the door open and stepped out, running a hand over the fogged mirror.
My long, brown hair was darker when it was wet, but there were still slivers of golden highlights in it. I needed to cut the shit and get a damn job. I was standing there with a towel around my waist, stroking my beard, when I heard a cell phone go off down the hallway.
It didn’t sound like mine, but I still wandered that way once I threw some boxers and pants on. Marchella was sitting at the kitchen table with her knees drawn to her chest and the soles of her feet resting in front of her ass on the edge of the seat. Her arms were wrapped around them and her cheek was resting on top of her knees.
I stepped toward her, swept the hair away from her face and kissed her cheek. She flashed me a weak smile, that all but broke my heart.
I grabbed one of the other chairs and loudly dragged it over the hardwood until it was next to hers. Once I got it there with that one-handed effort, I spun it and sat down, gathering her hands in mine before I’d even found the seat.
She slowly rolled her head, until her chin found her knees and her pretty, blue eyes locked on me.
“Don’t let anyone steal your joy, Marchella. It’s mine to protect and see to. You guard it and tell me if anyone disturbs it, I’ll handle things from there.”
She shoved one corner of her mouth up and winked at me. It felt dismissive rather than charming.
“Fuck that,” I slid my hands along her jaw, taking her face off her knees even as I leaned in to part them and haul her off her chair and onto my lap.
She claimed a sharp, startled breath, and her hands found my shoulders.
“Fuck them.” I firmly rolled the words off my tongue and stared into her eyes while giving her ass a squeeze. “Fuck anyone who doesn’t like the fact that we’re together.”
She slid her hand up my chest and gently cupped the back of my neck and dropped her gaze.
“Wh– what does that look like, Blaze?” she quietly asked.
When I didn’t answer, she clarified, “I– thought we were leasing this place for a year and then– moving on with our lives.”
“Because that's what your grandpappy told us to do?”
Her eyes snapped back to mine, and I saw the fight in them.
“I don’t mean any disrespect to the man, but his wants and desires don’t really calculate into our future. I’m done with that. I danced to my mother’s tune long enough. I dropped anchor right here with you.” I reached down and swiped a thumb over the tattoo on her ankle.
She shifted it away and swallowed hard, “I want a life with you.”
“You have that. I’m right here, babe.” I smiled.
She shifted her head, “You just told my father that you’d belong to him and those assholes before me.”
I teased my nails along the pockets on the back of her jeans and stared at her.
“Marchella, the Disciples are a family. They’re your family.”
“No,” The word raced past her lips and her eyes widened like I’d caused her physical pain by suggesting such a thing. She violently shook her head in a delayed denial. “No. The disciples are the reason I don’t have a mother. She gave her life for a man who was more dedicated to his club than he was to her and us.”
She shoved my chest and slid off my lap, leaving me to feel like some fool in a champagne room when the lights came on. Rather than lash out at her, I brought my hand up and stroked my beard, sighing into my cradled palm.
“Fuck,” I jerked my hand away and slapped the table, just as she came storming back down the hall with her purse in hand.
“What the fuck?” I shot off the chair and put myself in her path. “What the fuck are you doing?”
She froze and her eyes changed. They narrowed, only to widen as she stepped back from my much larger frame.
“March,” I whispered, reaching for her.
She sidestepped me, and mumbled in a flat tone, “Come on, your papers say you’re allowed to look for a job until two. I’ll take you to get your bike out of the impound. You can’t join without one.”
I collapsed against the ledge of the kitchen counter, having forgotten about the fucking bike. One more thing on the to do list.
“Fuck,” I murmured.
When she threw her hair over her shoulder and started toward the door, I reached for her without success.
“March, can we just ta–?” I started, but the screen door was already banging in her wake.
“Fuck!” I barked with twice the conviction, slapping my hand on the counter so hard it made the backside of my knuckle hurt. “Goddamn it!”
I clutched my hand and stomped after her.
I ripped the passenger door open and threw myself in.
“Can we just take a min–?” She threw it in reverse and stomped on the gas, causing the door to clap back onto my knuckles.
“Bitch.” I roared, as the pain splintered, convincing me at once that it was broken. I kicked the damn thing back open before it could latch.
I jerked my hand inside and clutched it to my chest while staring at her like it was the first time I’d ever seen her.
She got it backed onto the road and slammed on the brakes with the same enthusiasm she’d used with the gas, then she fixed me with a look. Hatred burned in her eyes and her jaw set before she finally managed to find her voice.
“Shut the fuck up, it’s a scratch compared to what the years have in store for you with this patch you’re chasing. You want a club and an ol’ lady? You got it. I’m your ol’ lady now, just remember you assigned me this fucking role, Blaze.”
I exhaled, and shut the door, focusing my attention on the yard while she threw rocks and shot down the road. We drove in silence for several long moments.
“March–”
“Stop,” she whispered, her voice a strained plea, her lifeless eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“What do you mean ‘stop?’ We’re fuckin’ married, babe. I’m not gonna stop. Not where you’re concerned. Not ever. That’s over with. So, sling rocks on a few more corners if you need to, do what you got to do, but for fuck’s sake– Can we fuckin’ park and talk about this?” I laughed, unable to do anything else, my mind was spinning so fast, and my senses had been stretched to capacity this week.
I just needed shit to slow down a minute.
She pulled in front of an auto body shop with a gated yard. When I spotted my bike, I flopped back in the seat, defeated.
“Marchella, can we just– go to breakfast? Can we talk? Please?”
“You did all the talkin’ you needed to back at the house. All by yourself, Blaze. You spoke like a man who didn’t have a wife or any responsibility to think about, and you don’t. Why should I be surprised?”
I saw the asshole poking his head out of the shop, but I didn’t give a fuck about him, “What does that even mean? Marchella, I thought you would be happy. I– your father, your brothers, all of your family are Disciples. I didn’t fucking think, okay? I’m not some fuck boy, alright?”
She nodded like she didn’t believe a word I was saying, “Yeah. I don’t have time for breakfast. I need to take my ass to the nursing home and see if I still have a job.”
Good sense caught the curse I was about to hurl at her and it became a strangled sound in my throat.
“You know– that thing that gives us money, unless you thought my grandfather would be offering handouts for the rest of our lives?” Her voice climbed until another mechanic had joined the first.
“Jesus Christ,” I clipped, shooting out of the car, and slamming the door behind me.
She flung rocks all over the side of the shop, and like a bitch, I flinched and tried to make myself as small a target as possible.
When the dust cleared, and I looked up, both assholes were grinning from ear to ear.
“Mike Miller’s girl, eh?” one of ‘em asked.
“My girl.” I barked at him, “My wife. You got my fuckin’ bike, man. How about you worry more about your job and get that mother fucker out here already.”
I don’t even know what set me off about him. Thankfully, they exchanged a few glances and moved along, leaving me to crudely shove my hands through my long hair.
“Damn it,” I growled, under my breath and started toward the office.