CHAPTER 26
GRAYCIE
As I open the back door of Bunz Out, it feels like I can finally breathe. Really breathe. Because I have nothing to be scared of anymore. Turner made sure of it.
I don’t know the details, and I don’t want to. What I do know is that I don’t have to look over my shoulder in fear because Sylvester could be behind me waiting to pounce. He’s gone.
Not only can he not hurt me, but he can’t hurt anyone else either.
“People go missing every day,” I whisper the words with a shrug.
Just as I put my stuff down and grab an apron, Lara walks around the corner from the hallway with the storage room and her office. The scream that comes out of her could wake the dead.
“Fuck, Lara,” I shout and the sound she’s making cuts off abruptly.
Her eyes are big and round as she looks at me with her hand pressed against her chest like it’ll do anything to save her if her heart is about to explode. And she’s certainly looking at me like it’s going to.
“What the actual fuck, Graycie?” She hisses the question while glaring at me. “You can’t just be here.”
She looks around the kitchen like she’s expecting the boogeyman to jump out of the smallest shadow. But it won’t.
I’m free.
I don’t have to worry anymore.
“Things are handled,” I tell her simply, hoping it’s enough, “and I’m safe which means I’m here to work.” I do a little bow and pout slightly when she doesn’t start clapping.
She really should be clapping.
Instead, her mouth opens and closes a few times before she looks up at the ceiling like she’s searching for where she left her patience. She looks exhausted and my heart sinks.
I take a small step closer to her and soften my voice, “I’m really sorry I put you in the lurch. I know it wasn’t easy to keep everything going because I couldn’t be here. If you want to fire me and find someone else, I really do understand.”
Before I know what’s happening, Lara is hugging me so tight it’s a little hard to breathe.
“I’m not firing you,” she admonishes me.
“You just scared me half to death but I’m so glad you’re okay.
” She sighs, “I think you haven’t realized how many people care about you.
You, Graycie, not the job you do or anything else, just you.
It’ll take time to relearn what that means. ”
She uses her grip on me to push me away from her forcefully so she can look at me closely, which she does. Very closely.
“You are okay, right?” The concern in her voice is easy to hear.
A smile grows on my face, starting out slow and ending up so wide my cheeks ache, while I nod. “I’m more than okay,” I tell her and then lower my voice to a whisper, “I’m in love with a biker and he’ll always protect me.”
Lara’s eyebrows shoot all the way to her hairline, and her mouth opens and closes again. Speechless; I’ve rendered her completely speechless. It’s kind of hilarious because between her and Opal, there is a lot of talking.
I wasn’t sure about being in the mix, not really. But that was before, when I was scared of my own shadow, and couldn’t imagine a time when I would feel like myself again.
Everything’s changed now. Soon, I might have to consider if Bunz Out is really what I want to do. I love working here, but if Turner has his way, then I’m already pregnant. Maybe I could take on some marketing clients, freelance of course, and see what happens.
I can’t say I love waking up this early. The sun isn’t even thinking about peeking over the horizon yet and here I am. At work.
But I don’t have to make any decisions today.
Today I’m going to help Lara and throw myself in the stability and predictability which has kept me sane over the last few months. I owe it to her because she had my back without knowing the depth of how much I needed it. Opal did the same.
“Okay,” Lara breathes out and lets go of me, “no mushy stuff.” She gives me a pointed look like her getting emotional is my fault. “And no humping bikers in the bakery.”
My eyes widen and a laugh rushes out of me, because that was pretty much the last thing I expected her to say. “I’ll refrain from humping in the bakery, but only bikers,” I tease her.
She scoffs, but I can see one side of her mouth twitching like she’s fighting a smile. “I don’t think your biker is going to give you the chance to hump anyone but him,” she points out. Unhelpfully.
Because it’s fucking obvious.
“It’s kind of hot,” I admit and wiggle my eyebrows at her.
She pinches the bridge of her nose, but the smile she can’t fight anymore gives her away. “Who even are you? I don’t think I’ve met this Graycie before.”
My shoulders fall a little and sadness creeps into my words, “I’ve come to realize that I haven’t been myself for a long time.
Fear, pain, and trauma will do that. My ex was an abusive bastard, and it felt like no one cared about what was happening to me.
It felt like I was drowning every single day. ”
I take a deep breath because that was a lot after avoiding talking about it for so long. But I just wanted to pretend to be normal, even though I was far from it. Not to mention, the last thing I want is for her to look at me with pity. I don’t want pity.
I’m a survivor. I got out.
And now I don’t have to ever look for him in a crowd again.
“Now I get to find myself again,” I admit softly.
“Well,” Lara gives my arm a squeeze, “I really like you, Graycie and I’m so glad you came here and we met. It could have gone a million different ways, but this is the right one.”
As tears prick the backs of my eyes, I screw my face up, my words filled with righteous accusation, “You said no more mushy stuff.”
“But then you forced me to trauma bond with you,” she snaps and waves her hands around in exasperation.
“Whatever,” I throw back mulishly.
“Come on,” she chirps brightly, “let’s get to work.”
And we do, while chatting about Vanessa and getting me back up to speed on all things Bunz Out. I get lost in the normalcy of it and it helps to ground me when it feels like I could float away at any moment.
I’m in love.
My man worships me.
The man who hurt me can’t touch me again.
Why wouldn’t I just float away? Life is almost too good, but I’m trying to trust it and trust that I deserve it.
It’s not always easy.
“What is that?” Lara’s head pops up from the cookies she’s scooping onto a tray. “Is that,” her eyebrows pull together and she doesn’t finish the question before she turns toward me and grimaces.
That’s when I hear it too. The pipes. The roar.
“Uh-oh,” Lara singsongs while looking at me like it was nice knowing me. “Did you mess up again?”
“I left a note,” I insist, but now that the words are leaving my mouth, I realize I might have messed up.
“Oh, sweet simple child,” she shakes her head and makes a tsking sound. “Your biker is going to be pissed,” she hisses the word teasingly.
All I can do is stick my tongue out at her as the roar of Turner’s bike gets louder and then stops before he starts pounding on the back door. I point at it and then at her while nodding in its direction.
“Yeah,” she scoffs, “no fucking way.”
Then she shocks the hell out of me by stopping what she’s doing, putting the cookie dough in one of the fridges and heading toward the door leading upstairs.
Just as she touches the handle, there’s more pounding on the back door and I can’t help but look at it like it’s about to burst open at any second.
“Good luck with that.” Lara throws over her shoulder as she slides into the stairwell, “Don’t fuck in my kitchen.”
I groan and shuffle over to the back door, grumbling with every step, “I would never fuck in your kitchen. That’s not sanitary.”
When I swing open the door, I’m met with a vision I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.
Turner is standing in the doorway, his shoulders taking up almost all of the space.
He’s huffing and puffing, blowing every breath out through his nose like an animal ready to charge.
His hands are clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides.
Before I can say anything, his arms are around me and he’s crushing me against his chest. He kisses me with an urgency borne of fear, of what we have endured together, of my past. And I melt for him.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble against his lips, “I should have woken you up. I left the note, but I didn’t think,” I start to explain.
He cuts off anything else I might say by kissing me even harder and scattering every thought, beyond him, to the winds. I moan into his mouth and his hand grips me even tighter. And fuck, his hands are everywhere.
I manage to pull back just enough to pant, “Lara told me not to fuck in her kitchen.”
The chuckle that comes out of Turner is rough and deep. It sends a shiver down my spine.
“I was worried when I woke up alone,” his voice is strained.
“I saw the note, but,” he pauses and takes a deep breath like he’s trying to get himself under control—I’m not sure it works though—before holding me in place with the intensity of his stare, “don’t ever do that again.
Always wake me up, Angel. Always. Promise,” he demands.
My arms wind around his neck and I tip up on my toes to nip at the underside of his jaw. “Promise,” I breathe out against his skin, and he lets out a low grunt of approval or warning.
I’m not sure which and I don’t really fucking care.
If I could, I would climb my man like a tree right now. But now is not the time or the place.
“I can’t lose you, Graycie,” Turner’s voice sounds like velvet and gravel. “I love you too damn much to lose you and, when I woke up, I could barely think. Help me out here, yeah?”
I’m doing my best fucking impression of a statue while replaying his words because him telling me he loves me is a record scratch moment if I’ve ever experienced one.
“You love me?” My question comes out as a squeak.
His eyes soften as he looks down at me, the gray looking like deep, calming seas instead of an impending storm.
“I have loved you since the moment you walked out the back door of the clubhouse. You took ownership of me in that moment, Graycie-girl, you just didn’t know it.
” His words turn playful, “I definitely knew before you blurted it out and tried to take it back.”
I gasp and clutch at him even tighter, needing to be closer while also being incredibly embarrassed. I did do that. The words were right, and so were the feelings. I was just scared.
“I love you, Turner, so fucking much,” the words come easily because the way I feel about him is pure, good, and solid. It is my compass, the guide for the rest of my life.
And I know he feels exactly the same way about me. Because he’s shown me. Every day, every time he’s shown up, and especially when he stayed and became my sword just as much as my shield.
He kisses me again, but this time, it’s soft and sweet. Well, as soft and sweet as we can be, but it turns heated quickly and I swear I hear Lara yell through the ceiling about not fucking in her kitchen. But it might be my imagination.
When he presses his forehead against mine, we just breathe each other in for a moment. Loving. Trusting. Being.
“You know,” I tease him, “when I first met Opal, I tried to not be her friend because I thought everything I touched was ruined. But she wouldn’t give up.
” One side of Turner’s mouth tips up and my belly flutters.
“She talked a lot,” I admit, “and one thing she told me was how her brother didn’t do complicated. ”
“I didn’t,” he murmurs, his voice gentle and his touch firm. “But that was before I experienced your brand of complicated, Angel. I’m in,” he breathes, “all in. Always.”
“Always,” I whisper back.
Turner glances toward the stairwell before sliding his hand down my arm and lacing our fingers together. He pulls me out the door and right to his bike. While reaching inside one of his saddle bags, he glances at me with something I’m not used to seeing on his face—uncertainty.
“I was going to wait to do this and make a big deal out of it because you should be celebrated, but waking up without you in bed this morning made me realize waiting is stupid. You’ll still be celebrated because everyone who is lucky enough to experience your light loves you.
Your family loves you,” his voice is so earnest that my eyes fill with tears.
I believe him.
I can feel it.
Not just part of me, the sliver of hope I’m trying to cling to even though I shouldn’t bother, but all of me can feel it.
A family.
I’m part of a family now. A real one built on love, trust, and respect. One who will show up. One who will worry when you’re gone and celebrate when you come home.
A family.
“And I want everyone to know you’re mine, Graycie,” his voice breaks slightly before he pulls a cut out of the saddlebag and holds it up for me to see.
On the front is my nickname—Angel.
On the back, the words wrap around me and make me feel whole in a way I never thought was possible. Property of Snake.
When I turn around and let him slip it on me, the relived breath my man heaves makes me bite my lip to stop the laugh trying to make itself known. He’s being very serious and sweet.
And fucking adorable.
I do a slow spin before turning toward him and running my hands over the leather. It’s supple and soft, but I feel the weight of it, the importance.
“You look sexy as fuck,” Turner groans before reaching down an adjusting himself. “Later you’re putting that on and nothing else.”
“Later,” I promise.
My biker kisses me one more time before climbing on the back of his bike. He gives me a long, heated look, his gaze roaming over me like a caress.
Later.
The word echoes around us, even as he heads back to the clubhouse to get a little more rest before he has to go to work.
Because life keeps going, even when demons are slain.
Even when you find out love, the kind of love that burns in your gut and holds you hostage, isn’t just a wish and a prayer. It’s real.
And I’ve found it.
With him.
I didn’t move to Dogwood Ridge intending to charm my Snake, but I’m not going to apologize for it. No, I’m going to hold onto him and the life he’s offering me with both hands. I’ll fight for it like the devil himself is coming for me.
Always.