Chapter Twenty-Four
Drew
It took me over an hour to figure out how to set my old alarm, last night.
I didn't have a phone yet and had no intention of picking one up anytime soon.
Five years was a long time to have gotten behind with technology.
I really didn't want to have to ask Kenny or Deeks for lessons in digit dialing. I was proud in more ways than one. When I finally got the alarm working, I’d done some cool-down stretches up against the walls of my room, then pretty much collapsed in a heap on top of my comforter—stomach down, face planted, muscles resting.
I’d done enough of this training back in the day to know that in order for me to have any hope of walking for the rest of the week, I was going to have to get up at the crack of dawn and run the aches out of my legs nice and early.
It was all about consistency. It was all about momentum.
Once you started back on that train, you could only take so many stops.
You could only sit down when it was absolutely necessary, and you could only allow yourself so much in the way of sleep.
I hadn’t heard anyone up when I’d thrown on my running gear and slipped out of the back door.
I knew that if Slater, Harry or Jedd saw me, they’d want to know where the hell I was going on my own again, and they’d start to worry.
As a collective, we didn’t make a habit of spending much time alone, and I knew that all they were seeing of me at the moment was my back as I continued to find reasons and excuses to walk away.
They didn’t understand how much I needed to breathe.
Even though the sun was out, and I knew it would only be a small matter of time before my thick sweat pants and even thicker hoodie got too much for me, I threw up the hood and pulled it tight under my chin.
The more sweat my body produced, the quicker I’d get in shape.
It was boxing training basics. Pour out the excess fat, build up what’s left of the muscles.
For every step I took against the concrete, I could hear Pete’s voice cheering me on or giving me tips on how to improve my technique.
Elbows up, fists to chest. Push from the calves; don’t put too much weight on the balls of your feet. You ain’t a fucking ballerina, Drew. This isn’t a dance studio; this is the streets.
I didn’t really have any idea how much time had passed when I finally took the turn down the road where the yard sat, but I could take a guess that it was still way too early for the whiskey and the beer to have worked its way out of the other brothers’ bloodstreams just yet.
I was covered in sweat, rubbing my brows, lips, and chin constantly with the forearms of my top as I turned through the open gates and kept my head down.
It was only when I lifted my hands to finally bring down my hood that I saw a female body sitting on the bench outside, looking like she was waiting for some kind of cabana boy to come and serve her a cocktail and hand her a cold towel.
Ayda.
I tried to catch my breath and slow the heaving of my chest while I stood there.
For the first time since I laid eyes on her, she looked at peace.
Her lids were half closed and her chin was angled towards the sunlight as she took a single second for herself, away from the rest of the world.
And I couldn’t help but wonder if she found it as hard to breathe her way through life as I did.
My mouth was dry and desperate for water, but all I could do was stand there watching her, somehow finding my own kind of calm just from witnessing hers. It was only when I licked my lips to try and gain some movement that I saw her slowly begin to turn and face me.
Our eyes met and we stared at each other for just a second before a smile curved her lips and she sat up straight, dusting her hands off on her jeans and grabbing two coffee cups.
“Good morning. I didn’t realize anyone else was up,” she said quietly.
My hands fell to my waist, my body still struggling to pull in enough air as I took a few steps forward on shaky legs. Glancing at the cups in her hands, I raised a brow before redirecting my gaze right at her and dragging my bottom lip through my teeth.
“Using my yard as a place to have breakfast dates now?”
“Dates?” She looked down at her hands in surprise and back up at me with a relaxed smile. “Oh, no. Kenny was the only one up and we had a coffee while we were plotting breakfast for you guys. If that’s okay with you?”
“Kenny? First of all, Kenny is never up first. He doesn’t drink coffee before noon and he hates breakfast, unless it's served in a shot glass.” I kept my voice low and quiet, hoping she understood the hint that I was trying to give her.
“Then why—?” She cut herself off, her eyes rolling. “I’m so stupid. That’s not… I mean to say, I’m not…” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and shook her head as she swung the mugs in her hands.
“A cock tease?” I smirked, my brow still raised.
“I should get to work,” she responded, all hint of her smile gone as she tucked her hair behind her ear, only to think better of it and let it fall forward.
It was then that I saw the mark upon her face.
Everything Deeks had told me yesterday came rushing back and I felt an odd, misplaced anger start to rise inside of me.
Closing the distance between us, I headed over to the bench and towered over her.
So much time had passed since I’d been around anyone and had to show compassion or any kind of gentleness.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure I had any of that shit left in me anymore, but that didn’t stop me from raising a hand to her face and slowly pushing her chin up with my finger.
“Deeks told me what happened yesterday,” I said softly as I guided her face from side to side and inspected the damage.
She attempted to evade my inspection with a turn of her head, but my hand made sure she stayed in place, leaving only her eyes to dart off to the side. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“You know, I heard somewhere that fine was chick code for I’m anything but fine.
” My finger and thumb slid around her chin, holding her still enough so I could try and force her to look at me without causing her any pain.
“I might be your typical asshole, but I’m sorry that happened to you because of me.
I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again. ”
“Fine means exactly that, and this wasn’t because of anybody but that plastic psycho bitch. She even convinced the chief to stop his daughter from seeing my brother. They’re now fucking in the Chandler’s hayloft,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor.
“There are worse places, I suppose,” I answered through a sigh.
Slowly releasing my hold on her face, I shoved both my hands into my pockets and looked back out around the yard.
“Maisey Sutton won’t be coming near you again, whether you say you’re fine or not.
If Howard Sutton does, I want to hear about it, you understand?
” My eyes flashed back to hers. While she was smiling and pretending all this was okay, I knew she could see that I thought it was anything but.
I could also see her questioning why I seemed to care about all of this so much.
“Like I said, you’re an asset to me now. I protect what’s mine.”
“So you’re trusting me to report to you, rather than… how did Maisey say it? Put a guard dog on me?”
“What’s for breakfast?” I asked, ignoring where she was going with that.
Her mouth fell open as though she was going to argue. For a moment I thought she would, but she apparently considered how many favors running her mouth had done her to date and reconsidered. “Biscuits and sausage gravy, bacon on the side. They’re great for hangovers.”
Stepping back, I gave her a small nod and a tight smile, deciding it was best to make my escape there and then before she changed her mind and went back to discuss the whole guard dog business.
“I’ll be in my office for the morning. I have work to do.
I’m sure Kenny will keep you amused for the day. ”
Raising her eyebrows, she practically glared at me for the Kenny comment. “I’ll bring you breakfast and coffee when it’s ready and you can tell me what you’d like me to take care of. Although I’m sure your heathens have plenty of laundry and mess for me to pick up.”
She pushed up off the bench and emptied the last of the coffee from the mugs before strolling toward the door, flashing one last lingering look over her shoulder at the sun.
Huffing out a small laugh, I called out as she walked away. “Ayda?”
She stopped, but didn’t turn. It was as though she was sucking in the breath and fortitude to turn around. When she did, it was a smooth twist on the balls of her feet, her ankles crossed as the mugs clinked together. “Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to knock this time.”