Chapter 17
KADENCE
Three weeks later, Doc gave me a clean bill of health.
He was thorough with checking me over and making sure my health was in good condition after I failed to take care of myself the first two weeks I was here.
I thought I did well, but apparently stress and injuries didn’t mix well together.
With my clean bill of health, I knew Hawke would be here later to take me to this club.
I was nervous, but also intrigued with the idea of working again, even if it was in a strip club.
Was I really going to work in a strip club when the men in this clubhouse made me jump at the slightest movement?
And that was when I already knew they were safe.
Maybe this was a mistake, but I’d be safe with Hawke.
I needed to move on with my life, and as shitty as it sounded, it was the cards I’d been dealt.
My life wasn’t a fairytale, and I wouldn’t pretend otherwise.
But that didn’t mean I would let my demons win.
I was also ready to get out of the clubhouse.
While everyone has been amazing, I couldn’t stay here.
I was jumpy, and the walls were suffocating.
For years I lived on the edge, on the verge of becoming an adrenaline junkie to keep myself busy and distracted from all the bullshit around me.
Nathan’s birthday and holidays were always the hardest because it was when my father would drink the most. My father rarely became physically abusive, but when he was drunk, the words flew out like venom.
The phrase sticks and stones could break my bones, but words would never hurt me?
Yeah. That shit was a stone cold lie, especially coming from the man who raised me.
Why couldn’t you be like Nathan?
You should have fucking died.
You’re fucking worthless. I should just kill you.
He got his wish. Caden Carpenter was dead, but Kadence Hayes was alive. This was my second chance to live for my brother and give myself a future I never thought I would have, even if it was in this odd town working in a strip club.
Therapy was something I knew I needed, but sadly therapy included health insurance and an ID—two things I didn’t have. I knew I needed to dump this lifetime of trauma on someone and good God, I needed to hope they didn’t say fuck this and leave.
I was thinking like I’d actually go. When I was at Roadhouse, I was fully ready to go to therapy, but now it seemed like the worst idea.
I was on the run. I was hiding from my father and a shit ton of other people, even if they were on the opposite end of the country.
It was safer if I stayed under the radar.
I’d dealt with demons my entire life; adding a few more mean ones wouldn’t affect me.
You know what they said: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Hawke knocked on the bedroom door. “Alright, kid, I got you an outfit already to impress the boss,” Hawke announced as he stepped in with a white bag. “Well, Fallon chose it.”
“Why do you keep calling kid? I’m twenty-three.”
“And I’m sixty-two.”
My jaw hit the floor, and he smiled while handing me the bag. “You are not,” I protested.
He laughed. “I’m forty-nine. I’m old enough to be your dad.”
“You definitely look better than my dad. The stress of his job and me makes him look eighty.”
“Don’t get any ideas, kid. I’m off the market. Although Fallon may have some fun with you, if you're interested.”
I knew he was joking, but I couldn’t help my jaw hitting the floor once more.
Hawke smirked, laughing at me as he turned around so I could get dressed.
If they shared, did this mean he was with the bitchy woman, too?
Did Fallon and him both sleep with her? And if they did, why was she still a cunt? Maybe it was her personality.
I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.
The green floral print lace hugged my body like a second skin, accentuating my curves, and the color complimented me surprisingly.
I traced my fingers down the front, hitting my very out there cleavage.
I turned my heel and looked at my ass. The cheeky boy shorts made my ass look amazing.
The entire set made me feel sexy, even with my stomach and rolls on my back.
I attached the garters to the stockings and slipped into the sheer skirt that stopped just under the curve of my ass.
I took one more look at myself in the mirror and became giddy.
I was walking sex. This mindset was exactly what I needed to have instead of Dom’s domineering voice in my head making me feel worthless and ugly.
I pulled over the black trench coat, pulling my hair from the collar and fluffing it out.
It was nice having fresh blue and green locks.
“You can turn around.” He turned around, and his eyes trailed up my body.
“Yep. You’ll fit in perfectly.” Just as he got ready to say something else, the door opened and Fallon galloped into the room. She pulled me to the side where my back was facing Hawke and inspected my outfit under the trench coat.
“Holy shit,” she gasped. “Wow, hold on, let me pick my jaw up off the floor.”
I felt my cheeks heat. “Are you sure it’s not too much?”
“Pfft, you are gorgeous. I am consensually staring at your ass when you walk out of here,” she said. “Consent is sexy.”
That took me by surprise. “I—”
“Everyone in the Reapers and at the club understands consent,” Hawke said, since he was the only one who knew my history. “No one is going to harm you. No one will touch you or even stare at your ass if you don’t want them to, and if they do, they will be dealt with.”
Hawke didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.