Chapter Two
WISHFUL DRINKING
Hours Earlier
The sound of locks disengaging is monumental. I’ve been waiting over a year for this moment, and it’s finally here. Pushing open the heavy security door, a sense of accomplishment and nervousness comes over me. I shake off the latter because I’ve worked too hard for this.
“Pretty as a picture.” Hearing Sailor’s voice outside of the rehab facility further drives home the fact that I’ve earned my freedom. My second chance. I did the work, and this is my reward.
Turning my head, I find him watching me with a blinding smile of his own as he takes me in from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
He’s a notorious flirt and is always making me blush when he checks me out without trying to hide it.
I’m not sure what the man sees in me, but he’s been a great friend since I arrived in New York.
Our friendship was unexpected, to say the least. He started showing up to visit me about a month after I got here and then had the audacity to keep coming back.
Every family day the facility had, he’d show up with a mischievous smile on his face, no matter how mean I was to him.
I’m so thankful for his stubborn ass. I wouldn’t be as strong as I am today if it wasn’t for him.
“Sure you don’t want to stay in New York, darlin’?”
“I’m sure.” As he reaches for the backpack on my shoulder, I have to fight the urge to smack his hand away.
For ten months, Sailor has been coming to the center and teaching self-defense classes.
I’m not sure how he knew something had happened to me, but he’s been able to see right through me since the moment we met. I’ll forever be grateful to him.
“Gonna miss you, Sie-Sie,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and ushering me toward the parking lot.
“Me too, Sailor. Me too.” I know he had hoped I’d stay once I was finished with the program.
He’s been upfront that he wants more from me than friendship, but I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him.
I may never have that kind of feeling for anyone after everything I’ve been through.
He’s asked me repeatedly to stay here with him, and if my son wasn’t in Miami, I would probably stay here and start over.
When we arrive at the clubhouse, I climb out and wait in front of the truck for him. I watch in confusion as he starts pulling bags from the backseat and then sets them on the pavement in front of me.
“What’s with the bags?”
“Your ride should be here any minute, Sierra. I put an iPhone in that purple bag, and KC filled it with some of your favorite songs. I also plugged my number in as well. If you need anything, anything at all, babe, you call me. You hear?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
At my nod, he gives me a lingering hug before heading into the clubhouse.
My heart breaks a little as I watch him disappear inside.
He’s the first real friend I’ve ever had.
I’m going to miss his sister KC too. He told me months ago he wasn’t good at goodbyes. I didn’t think he was serious, though.
Crunching gravel draws my attention to the side of the building.
When I turn around, I see a gorgeous blacked-out F-250 pickup truck approaching.
My heart begins to race when I see the Miami plate on the front.
They’re here! I can barely contain my excitement at finally getting to see my son again.
I start to bounce on my toes as the driver parks a few feet away.
God, I can’t wait to see Nash. I’ve missed him so much.
My eyes fill with tears as the need to hold my boy in my arms grows.
“You’re here!” Smiling, I take a step forward but quickly stop when the last person I expect to see is the one to get out— the VP of the Saints.
I lean to the side and look around him, hoping my sister will be climbing out next.
When nobody else gets out, I realize that Nash isn’t here.
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest. This must be what it feels like for a heart to break.
It hurts. I feel like I’m drowning in disappointment until the VP starts angrily shouting demands in my direction.
I recognize the larger-than-life biker from the night I showed up at the Saints clubhouse. I don’t remember him being this hostile, though.
I’m thrown for a loop when his tone changes, and he suddenly wants to be nice to me.
If he thinks I’m the same weak woman he met a year ago, he’s going to be sorely mistaken.
I’ll admit that I may be a little more emotional these days, being that I allow myself to feel things instead of burying them, but I’m no shrinking violet.
I knew going back to my old life after finishing my recovery program was going to be hard. I’ve been mentally preparing for everything that’s bound to play out when I get home. I get it. I did it to myself, but I’m not the same woman I was a year ago.
I yelp when the VP takes my bag and stows it in the back of his truck. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck off when he looks at me with pity. I swallow it down and away just as a large brown dog comes barreling around the truck toward me.
I tense at first but quickly relax the closer the happy guy gets.
It looks like the big lug is smiling as he prances around me with his tongue hanging out.
Reaching down, I scratch behind his ears and grin as he presses his body into the side of my legs.
The tag on his collar has the name Bones engraved into it. Cute name.
It’s hard for me to be patient when I just want to get home to my son. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to be ready to get the hell out of here. I’ve been here for over a year, and I just want to see Nash. He’s the only thing that matters.
I watch Ridd and the VP chat, and it’s clear from their faces that whatever they’re talking about isn’t good.
I stiffen when Riddick smirks at the VP.
He intimidates the hell out of me. Don’t get me wrong; he’s been nothing but kind to me since I met him, but he’s huge.
I’m pretty sure he could squash me like a bug if he wanted.
I was surprised when he showed up with Sailor a few months ago to visit me.
Surprisingly, he was very supportive and encouraging of my sobriety.
I’m not sure why but I had expected him to judge me for the mistakes that I had made, but he didn’t.
Everyone I’ve met that belongs to this New York MC has been a blessing.
When they shake hands, I don’t waste any time calling for the dog and climbing in the truck.
We’ve barely pulled out of the compound, and the tension is thick. He makes a smartass comment about me fidgeting and how it’s going to be when we get back to Miami. I know he’s right, and it pisses me off.
I’d love to listen to the radio, but I don’t want to ask him for anything.
Glancing down at the purple bag at my feet, I remember what Sailor said about stashing an iPhone.
I send thanks to the Gods for giving Sailor the forethought when I find it tucked safely inside.
I don’t mind the quiet, but it’s awkward as hell with the vibes pouring off this guy.
I put the headphones in my ears and crank up the music. I get lost in the lyrics as I think of my baby boy and the life I want to build for us.
The first thing I need to do when I get to Miami is find a job. Once I save enough money, I can get us an apartment somewhere nice. Things are going to be different this time.
Peeking at my driver, I wonder if he knows what happened to my car. I could ask him, but the frown on his face gives me pause. I think I’ll just wait until we get back home and ask my sister.
I almost laugh when Heartbreaker by Mariah Carey starts pumping in my ears.
As the song is ending, my driver takes the offramp.
What the heck could he possibly want to stop for now?
He explains that he can’t drive anymore, whips into a motel parking lot, and throws the truck into park.
I feel like shit when he tells me about the shrapnel in his back.
Before I can offer to drive, he’s hopping out of the truck and slamming the door closed behind him.
He stands outside the door, stretching for a second before taking off for the office like his ass is on fire.
I don’t know what his problem is, but he’s starting to annoy me.
The tantrums or whatever the hell is happening with him are giving me whiplash.
I take another deep breath and realize I need to suck it up.
Nothing I say or do is going to change the fact that I have to spend another night away from Nash.
Hakuna Matata. This too shall pass.
Shaking off the hurt, I pray for patience and climb out of the truck.
Grabbing my backpack from the floorboard, I call for the dog just as his grouchy owner comes strolling out of the office with a key dangling from his fingers.
He doesn’t spare his dog or me a second glance as his long legs carry him away from us.
Asshole.
He stalks down the breezeway to the last door at the end and curses up a storm as he struggles to get the door open.
Covering my mouth, I try not to laugh when he kicks the door.
I lose the battle when he finally gets it open and slams it closed behind him.
Still giggling, I look down at Bones when he leans heavily into my leg.
My laughter is cut off when it hits me that he left us standing out here alone in the dark. “Asshole,” I growl.