Chapter 13
SAGE
The warm water sprays my back as I stand in my shower, allowing the water to wash away this intense hangover. Leaning my head towards the tiled floor, I watch as the water swirls around as the remnants of my hangover disappear down the drain. I start to wonder when mine and Saint’s behavior towards one another changed. Was it the accidental kiss the other day? We’ve always had this tumultuous relationship that’s worked for us. We pick on each other; he calls me witch stick, while I call him a big over possessive caveman. We love to bicker with each other—simple as that. However, standing in the shower now, I slowly begin to recollect what happened last night.
Saint brought me home; I know that. He followed me upstairs—no—he carried me upstairs, maybe? Fuck, I can’t remember. Once I was in my room, I vaguely remember feeling like my clothes were suffocating me. I took off my clothes one piece at a time, but don’t remember Saint leaving at that point. I stripped in front of my brother’s best friend.
Sage, are you serious?!
After giving Saint a free show, I remember falling into my bed. Saint then covered me up and left. I think. That’s it, right? Saint said I had a nightmare though, so when was that? The water starts to fall across my face, causing me to close my eyes and breath against the stream of water. The heat of the water is soothing my headache, and I take a break from racking my brain to allow the warmth to heal me from the inside out. As the water puts my soul back together, I can’t help seeing a pair of silver eyes in my head. Thinking of his warm body pressed against my back this morning has my stomach flipping in Olympic style backflips, but why now?
Brushing my hair back with my hands, I freeze with my hands tangled in my hair. He slept in my bed last night! I remember now. I woke up from my nightmare, and like after most of my nightmares, I couldn’t fall back asleep. I got out of my bed, swaying on my feet from the liquid courage that was still flowing through my blood, and asked him to stay with me until I fell asleep! I asked him. Me, the sister of his best friend. Fuck, what have I done?
As I stand in the shower, buzzing with nervous energy, I start washing my hair. He didn’t question it though; he came to me in my room and held me while I fell asleep. There wasn’t any hesitation from him. Saint came to me and cuddled in my bed. He could have said something sly and picked on me for being a little bitch from a silly bad dream, but he didn’t. Tyler Saint Bones had lain with me. His arms wrapped around me as his presence helped me fall asleep. As much as I want that encounter to feel weird, it honestly doesn’t feel weird at all. It feels… right.
Why didn’t he say anything this morning? He acted like nothing happened. Was he waiting for me to say something? Is that why he asked me if I slept well? Jesus, Sage, why are you so worked up? It’s Saint, your friend, your closest frenemy, if you will. He was just being nice, helping you fight off the demons of the night that haunts you.
Saint is no stranger to my nightmares. He practically lives here too and has heard me have a fit once or twice over a nightmare, but it was always Saxon who came in to investigate. It’s never been Saint. Last night it was him. He came to soothe me, calm me, and bring me back down from the terrors my mind likes to torture me with. Fuck, why am I thinking too hard about this?
Finishing my shower, I step out and grab my towel, wrapping it around my body. Grabbing another towel, I twist my hair and place it on top of my head to help my hair dry. I look myself over in the mirror, the look of confusion evident on my face. Rubbing my hands down my arms, I become hyperaware of the places Saint touched me this morning. The electric energy his fingers created against my skin has my nerve endings on high alert. Rolling my eyes, I brush any more thoughts of Saint out of my head and storm back into my room. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve black top, I decide I need to get out and go for a ride. That will surely help clear my head. I dress quickly; lacing up my boots and heading back into the bathroom, I quickly dry my hair. The task isn’t as quick as I was hoping for, though. My long blonde hair is not the easiest to dry.
Once done, I head downstairs and wolf down half a bagel and head to the garage to grab my helmet and keys to my bike. As I enter the garage, I smile to myself when I see my all-black Ducati sitting so perfectly in the garage bay. I haven’t ridden her in a long time, and why not break that streak with a long ride through the back roads? As much as I love my Harley, there’s something about my Ducati that makes me feel like I’m lightning—fast and free, able to zigzag through traffic and reach speeds I know I shouldn’t.
I smash the button that opens the garage and pull my full-face helmet over my head as I swing my leg over my bike. I quickly pull out my phone and send a quick text to Saxon, informing him I’m going for a ride to clear my head. I always like for him or Frankie to know when I’m out riding alone; just in case something happens, they’ll know where I am. I get a quick thumbs up emoji from him and turn on my bike. The loud engine fills the garage, and I flip the kickstand in as I back out of the garage.
Looking at my phone one last time, I note the time. It’s close to six in the evening, so nightfall will be soon. It still being summer, I know the sun doesn’t set until a little after eight, so I have some time. I decide to take one of my favorite routes that heads out over the hills and towards a quarry I used to swim at as a teenager. My father always forbade me from going there, but Ophelia and I were never really the teens that followed our fathers’ orders. It’s no wonder she and I are still alive after the stupid shit we got ourselves into.
The quarry is closed to the public due to the dangers within. The high rocks and steep ledges that lead to the water below have claimed many lives over the years. However, Ophelia and I were never reckless; we usually went out there to sunbathe on the rocks and talk about our latest crushes.
I head out of the driveway and speed towards the winding road to the hills. I ride for about an hour, not caring where I’m going, simply enjoying the road ahead of me. The air is warm, and since it’s a Sunday night, there is little traffic for me to worry about. Once I hit the road that forks off, I turn right. This road leads to a very small pull-off that is gated off with a No Entry sign on the front. Parking my bike behind a set of thick bushes so no one sees, I take off my helmet and hook it on my handlebars. My hair blows in the subtle wind, the smell of the woods hitting me as I make my way over to the gate.
The gate is just that, one gated door that doesn’t allow vehicles to pass through. However, the gate does nothing to hinder people’s ability to jump over it. I jump over with ease and quickly disappear beyond the trees. It’s dark beneath the trees’ coverage. It is now a little after seven thirty, and I know I don’t have much time left before the sky grows dark. Walking a little further through the woods, I know the rocks are just up ahead. Once I reach the rocks, I smile to myself as a flood of memories hits me from my teenage years. So many Saturdays were spent here on these perfectly flat rocks, allowing for the best sunbathing. I smile to myself as memories with Ophelia fill my mind. So many long, deep conversations were had on these rocks, so many tears were shed over boys, hardships, and, of course, the loss of our mothers.
I make my way over to the spot Ophelia and I always chose, due to it being the flattest spot, and I sit down, leaning my hands behind me and looking up to the sky. It’s beautiful—oranges and pinks coat the clouds as the sun rapidly starts to descend. I lay back against the rocks and watch as the sun dips below the trees, and soon I’m lying in darkness. It’s so soothing out here. The sound of the birds in the woods, the absence of sounds from the city, and just being in the fresh air is everything I want at this moment.
As I sit there, I can’t help but think of Saint again. His presence this morning was so different from usual. Yes, he always gives me a kiss goodbye like my brother, and all the other club members for that matter, but his touch this morning had felt so… different. Different in a way that was more sensual. I scoff to myself, standing up and brushing off my jeans as I decide it’s getting late, and I need to head ba ck. Looking at my watch, I see I’ve been here for well over an hour, and it’s now close to nine o’clock. Saxon is going to kill me. As I look at my phone, though, I see no missed calls or texts from him, which is weird because he usually always checks in on me. I pocket my phone and head back through the woods.
The sound of distant voices has me freezing. Spinning around, I can’t see anything right away, but I can still hear someone, or maybe more than one person, talking in muffled tones. I stand behind a thicker tree, peering out across the quarry’s ledge, trying to spot whoever is here with me. Squinting my eyes, I start to think it’s too dark, and I won’t be able to see anyone, when a shadow of something, or someone, comes into view at the edge of the quarry. I step out from behind the tree, squinting harder as the shadows become clearer. Two large—what look to be—men are carrying someone who appears to be unconscious. One man is holding onto the person’s arms, while the other is holding the legs. Both men are wearing all black with masks covering their faces, but they are so far away, I can’t see what the masks resemble.
I step a little further out into the open to try to see better. The men set the unconscious man down for a moment as they stand to their full heights—they are both huge, towering men. They start conversing about something in voices so low, I can’t hear. A moment later, the mystery men pick up the guy and toss him over the ledge into the quarry. It takes a moment for the body to hit the water due to the height of the cliff, but the moment it does, a gasp leaves my throat, shock bubbling in my core. My eyes lift from the water back to the mystery men who are now staring directly at me. I run. I don’t hesitate—I have to get back to my bike and leave right fucking now.
I waste no time. Turning on my heels and racing through the woods, it takes me no time at all to reach the gate as I hurdle over it. Finding my bike, I don’t even bother with my helmet and swing my leg over my bike. As I try to get my keys from my pocket, a strong-arm wraps around my mouth, muffling a scream I can no longer get out. I’ve been caught. Fuck my life.