8. Bobbie
Chapter eight
Bobbie
The first blush of dawn began to color the sky when Arrow and I got settled at the clubhouse in one of the back rooms. It was furnished with the basic necessities—a bed, a nightstand, a closet, and a table in the corner, with an adjoining bathroom.
I crawled into bed immediately, fully clothed, and carefully rested my bandaged hands on my stomach. The cuts weren’t deep, but they did sting like hell. Seven gave me a few painkillers to take the edge off.
Arrow removed my boots, lining them up next to the bed.
“I could get used to this royalty treatment if you're not careful,” I murmured with fatigue.
He chuckled and kicked off his own boots before easing into bed beside me.
“You’re sleeping in a spare room at a biker bar. I’d hardly consider that royalty treatment.”
I rolled over and wiggled closer to him, resting my head on Arrow’s shoulder.
“You know what I mean. Taking off my shoes, making sure I get enough to eat, giving me orgasms. You're treating me like a princess.”
I yawned and snuggled against him, draping my arm across his middle.
“It’s nice,” I added, slurring as I began to drift off.
Despite my exhaustion, I could feel the tension in Arrow’s body. He wouldn’t be going to sleep any time soon. Not after The Filthy Rebels and Huxley had shot up his home.
“Close your eyes, Arrow,” I said.
“I’m not tired,” he protested.
I scoffed.
“Liar.”
He laughed softly and gingerly kissed my hand.
The muted sounds of activity in the clubhouse created a comforting drone of background noise, signaling we weren’t alone here—the clatter of dishes, the clink of glass, the dull hum of voices.
“Why did you call Hillbilly?” Arrow asked after a while.
My eyelids were too heavy, and I didn’t have the strength to open them. But I managed a lazy shrug in response.
“Because he was my first contact with your club,” I said. “I know him better than anyone else. And besides, he’s retired. So, he’s guaranteed to be bored out of his damn mind and desperate for something to do.”
Arrow snorted with amusement.
“Well, it was good thinking. Things can get complicated when cops are involved. We prefer to handle club business on our own whenever we can. Keep it in the family, so to speak.”
I hummed.
“I’ve noticed.”
During my stay in Juniper Creek, it wasn’t hard to figure out why The Reckless Order and the cops didn’t get along. Many members had a criminal record, and a questionable history of skirting the rules to resolve their conflicts.
“I keep forgetting you’re nosy,” Arrow said. “How much dirt did you dig up on us anyway?”
I breathed a tired laugh.
“I learned enough to know that literally nothing will stop you from protecting each other. Fighting for each other. Not even the law.”
Arrow turned his head and brushed a kiss to my temple.
“Damn straight, baby. We would burn the world down to take care of our own if that’s what we have to do.”
I said nothing as the haze of sleep grew thicker, dragging me into unconsciousness. Arrow shifted, tucking the covers tighter around me.
“Have you been living out of your car, Bobbie?”
It took a few seconds for me to grasp the meaning of his words. I could barely think straight. And in the back of my mind, I knew he was probing for answers while my defenses were down. But I was too exhausted to care.
“I used to be on the streets,” I mumbled. “But my Rover is better.”
“Is that why you’re so thin?” Arrow asked. “Because you haven’t been getting enough to eat?”
I sighed. It was becoming harder to stay awake, to string together a coherent sentence.
“It’s just…difficult to know…where my next meal will come from. So, I gotta…make my food last.”
“Jesus, Bobbie,” Arrow croaked. “I never want you to feel like that again.”
The mattress dipped and he slipped out of bed, grabbing his boots and pulling them on. I sat up, blinking and groggy.
“Are you leaving?”
My heart gave a sickening jolt against my ribs. Maybe I had said too much. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him those things and now he had changed his mind and he didn’t want to marry me anymore.
Arrow brushed his knuckles against my cheek.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he murmured soothingly. “I just thought you might like a big breakfast in bed.”
I paused as I processed his answer. After a few moments, I sank back against the pillows with relief.
“That does sound good.”
Arrow smiled softly and leaned over me, kissing my forehead.
“I’ll be back before you know it. Get some rest while you can.”
Forty-five minutes later, Arrow returned with breakfast that was fit for a small army—two cups of coffee, a giant stack of flapjacks swimming in syrup, crispy smokey bacon, creamy oatmeal with slices of juicy golden peaches, eggs sunny side up, and thick cuts of buttered toast.
But I was in the middle of a manic episode and too restless to touch a single bite of it.
Arrow found me in the bathroom, with steam billowing in the air. I stood before the mirror in only my tank top and jeans, with a towel draped around my shoulders. My hair was a wet, stringy mess.
“Bobbie, honey, what are you doing?” he asked, incredulous.
“I found a box of hair dye under the sink.” Grabbing the box, I turned it toward him. “Look. It’s electric blue. No offense, but I doubt you boys would be able to pull off this color. So, I thought I’d give it a go.”
Arrow stared at me for a moment. He set the tray of food aside on the table.
“A club bunny probably left it behind. It’s all yours.”
“Perfect,” I chirped.
“When I left, you were almost asleep,” he pointed out. “And now you’re…”
“Manic,” I finished for him, lifting a limp strand of hair to examine the dye job. “I know. The stress most likely set me off. I feel like I could run ten miles, and I haven’t even had a drop of coffee yet.”
“You’re not going anywhere near caffeine.”
I stuck my lip out in a mock pout.
“You never let me have any fun.”
Arrow chuckled and stepped closer, leaning his hip against the counter. Sliding one finger under my chin, he tilted my head up to meet his eyes.
“Every time you get the urge to change your hair color, you’re usually itching to run away.”
I huffed with frustration and pulled back, sticking my head under the faucet to rinse out the dye. It’s like Arrow had X-ray vision or something. He could see right through me.
When I woke up, it felt like I had a belly full of bees, buzzing with anxiety. The insatiable urge to leave—just go—made my muscles tense and my teeth clench.
The logical part of my brain recognized that this was a trigger. I didn’t want to leave Arrow. But so much had happened in such a short span of time that my brain and my nervous system were overloaded.
Living with mental illness was a strange experience sometimes. Like watching a speeding train, careening closer with every passing second. I knew I needed to stop it, but actually managing to do that was the tricky part.
After rinsing my hair, I wrapped it in a towel.
Then I started scrubbing the bathroom. The sink was a mess, pockmarked with watery blue dye, and my clothes were piled on the floor, and we were stuck in this goddamn clubhouse until further notice.
Dear God, I was going to lose my mind if I had to stay in this room another second longer.
“Bobbie, honey,” Arrow said gently.
He came up behind me, wrapping his hands around my wrists so I would stop cleaning.
“Why don’t you take a break and eat a few bites—”
I shook my head, twisting away from him.
“Not right now. I made a mess and I really should get it cleared up and…”
“Bobbie, it’s okay,” Arrow whispered in a voice that had me blinking back tears. He was so damn patient with me. “Leave the mess. We’ll worry about it later.”
I fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt.
“You’re so hot when you talk me through my mental breakdowns.”
He breathed a faint laugh, sliding his arms around my waist.
“I’d do anything to make you feel better, baby. You know that.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“Anything?”
Arrow shook his head.
“No, we’re not having sex. Not when you’re like this.”
His words seared into my gut like a sizzling iron brand. Shame prickled up my spine with a thousand scorching needles.
I understood his reasoning—I wasn’t entirely in my right mind at the moment.
And Arrow was extra careful when it came to my consent.
During a manic episode, I tended to get reckless, wild, and threw caution to the wind.
I said yes to things that I shouldn’t, just for the thrilling rush of adrenaline.
My emotional state was too fragile, too volatile and reactive, to grasp that reasoning.
“Like this?” I jabbed my finger in my chest. “This is what I’m like all the time, Arrow. This is me. There will never be a time when I’m not like this.”
Arrow held up a hand in an attempt to reassure me.
“Hold on, I didn’t mean it that way—”
“I want to do better,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’ve been to the doctors. I’ve tried the medications. I do the damn breathing exercises. And I try. I try so hard.”
“I know you do, sweetheart.”
“But it’s never enough. I’m still…like this,” I added, gesturing to myself. “I wish I could change my brain. I wish I could just start over and be someone else. Someone who is easy to love.”
Arrow sat on the edge of the tub, pulling me down into his lap.
“Hey, hey, I never said you’re hard to love.”
I made a strangled noise, part bitter laugh, part sob.
“You didn’t have to say it. I see evidence of it every single day of my life. No family, no friends, no home, no job. I’m nobody.”
He frowned, swiping a tear away from my cheek. Taking my hand, he turned my palm up, pressing his thumb to the scar there.
“You are mine, Bobbie. I promised you that, remember? You are mine and I am yours.”
My vision misted with tears and my jaw ached from clenching my teeth to stop myself from bawling like a baby.
“I should be alone, Arrow. It’s better that way. Even my own family couldn’t love me.”
“No,” he said. “I won’t give up on you. I won’t let you go. You’re my girl, Bobbie. That has never changed.”
Damn it, why did he have to be so stubborn? I pressed my palms to my eyes, fighting to compose myself.
“It’s not your job to fix me. It’s not your job or your responsibility. And maybe…maybe I’m too broken to be a wife.”
“Then we won’t get married,” Arrow replied.
My heart felt like it was splitting open. I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt. Isn’t that the answer I wanted to hear? Arrow would marry someone else, someone who wasn’t me. He deserved that.
But it was going to kill me. Slowly. From the inside out.
Arrow pressed his forehead to mine as I clamped a hand over my mouth to hold back the gut wrenching sob that was welling up in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t need a ring or a wedding or a certificate of marriage to love you, Bobbie,” he said. “I have always wanted just you. Whatever wacky color your hair is. Whatever is going on in your brain. I. Want. You.”
My heart was racing a mile a minute, and a wrecked noise of relief tore from my throat.
“It’s not fair,” I whimpered.
“What’s not fair, baby?”
“Now I really, really want to fuck your brains out, and I can’t because you’re such a damn gentleman about it.”
Arrow laughed—that beautiful laugh from deep in his belly, with his head thrown back and his whole body shaking with amusement.
He was right. Whether we were married or not, our hearts belonged to each other.