36. Tyke
36
TYKE
She’s not alone.
It confuses the fuck out of me how, after swearing off women for so long, managing to stay solo and keep my focus on the club and the club only, she managed to crack the seal I’d placed around my heart. And all without even trying. There was no pursuit with Rae, no obvious flirtation or weeks of sexual innuendo shoved in my face until I gave in.
She won me over by being nothing but her true, fractured self. It was her rawness that drew me to her, knowing that what I see is what I get. She doesn't lie, put on a facade for the people around her, or try to chase trends.
She's unapologetically herself, even if she considers that person less than enough. What she'd like to be.
I love her anyway.
I love her because of it.
The world ain't always pretty, but she sure is. A rose amongst the thorns. A diamond in the rough. A light in the dark. Use whichever cliched saying you like; she fucking embodies it for me, and that's all I need to prove I made the right choice in marking her as mine.
As ours .
I fucking love her harder, knowing she provides the same salvation for my brother. She can fill the parts of his heart I couldn't as his sibling. And that she makes my family whole because of it.
“It kills me to know I wasn’t there to protect you from gettin’ hurt,” I confess as I set her down beside the bed. “But you know what?” I grab the hem of her T-shirt and lift it over her head. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of how you handled it, baby girl.” She reaches for my cut, yet I push her hands away and work on her jeans. “You gotta see how you’ve grown, Rae. How you stood up for yourself. For Maddie. For what was right.”
She offers a small smile. “I guess.”
I shove the denim over her hips and use a boot to push it to the floor. "You're comin' into yourself," I explain as I start on her delicate underwear. "And when you get there? When you reach that place where you feel complete, where confidence is a feeling you wake up with rather than a hard-earned reward, something tells me you’ll be a fuckin' force to be reckoned with." I lean down and place a kiss on the top of her right breast, cupping the swell with one hand as I use my other to undo the clasp at her back.
She sighs, and it’s the most perfect sound.
"Can tell you right now," I murmur against her skin, kissing the left swell. "I'll be the proudest motherfucker to stand at your side." I rise, letting her bra fall. "To call you mine."
"I hope I get there soon for your sake then." She crosses her arms over her chest.
The shift in her mood throws me for a second. I’m not the smartest man alive, but shit, I thought we were in the middle of a moment here. Then it dawns. “Hey.” I coax her chin up with the crook of my finger. “I’m proud to stand beside you now, Rae. Don’t get all confused up in that head of yours.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” She brings both hands to her face, elbows covering her nakedness. “I’m screwing up the mood.” Her ass drops to the side of the bed, arms moving to fold across her chest.
Her attention shifts to the window, the muted streetlights casting a pale glow through the misty rain that's begun to fall. I take stock of her in that moment, her beauty, her strength, and most of all, the resignation that lies in the depth of her gaze.
Rae's tired. She's told us what's around the corner for her, what her cycle does. And here I am, pressing my urges on her.
What if this isn't what she wants?
What if she requires something other than a fucking brute of a man placing physical demands on her?
"What do you need, baby girl?" I drop to my haunches, crouched before her, hands slung between my knees. "Talk to me."
Rae rolls her lush lips, nostrils flaring before she draws a deep breath. “That’s the problem. I never really know.” A bitter chuckle falls between us. “A decade of this shit, and I still can’t tell you what sets me at ease when my fucking hormones try to kill me.”
“Hell.” I reach for her shirt and right the fabric as I speak. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She looks at me, gaze dropping to the T-shirt bundled in my hands, ready for her to put on. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.” I offer her the neck hole.
She fucking cries. Slow tears that track the apple of her cheek as she studies me with a gentle smile. “What about you?”
"I got what I need." I lift the shirt over her head, settle it around her neck, and free her hair. "You're here. Safe. Alive. Mine." I coax her arms through one by one. "I can get sexual gratification with you any time, baby girl. But this week, you need somethin' different, and I want to give you that."
“I just said I don’t know what I need, though,” she whispers. “How can you give it to me if I don’t know what it is?”
"Because I do." I settle on the bed beside her and then coax her onto my lap, facing me. "You need reassurance, Rae." I stroke loose strands of her raven locks behind one ear. "I did a little reading about this thing after you told me and Dig what it is. Fuck…" I duck my head and shake it a little. "Got to admit it shook me some. That's some deep shit you go through. Real tough."
She shrugs. Fucking shrugs as though managing to fight your goddamn mind to stay alive one week out of every four ain’t anything to be proud of.
"Let me be your strength when you need it, Rae. Let me hold you up when you get tired. Give you the love you lose for yourself." I take her head between my massive hands and kiss her forehead. "Let me be your reminder that this ain't all it ever is."
Her arms come around me, tucked beneath mine and threaded as far as she can reach around my broad chest. Her small hands barely make the inside of my shoulder blades, with no hope of touching, but it may as well be a steel cage for how secure I feel in her embrace. Head to my chest, she draws air measured and slow, but I ain't no fool. I've known women long enough to recognize the little hitches in their breath when they stifle tears. The fear in their touch when they hold on tight, as though letting you go would be akin to waking from a dream.
I know what it is to be needed, to have someone want from me what they can't give for themselves.
Hell, I’ve felt the desperation for human connection from a brother’s hug more than once in my time at the club.
It's the simplest gift we can give our fellow man and a gift we withhold all too often. As though being an island is a badge of honor. As though independence is a mark of success.
Fuck that.
We were born seeking our mother’s touch, and we’ll die seeking our lover’s.
If the best thing I can do is hold this woman against me and remind her she isn't alone in the dark, then I'll gladly open my arms.
For as many times and as long as she needs.
Because fuck it all, I know she'd do the same.