Chapter 7
Tank – Three Days Later
Trying to ignore the constant eyes on me that are making me fucking uncomfortable, I gently wrap my patient's arm, ensuring not to jolt it or tear her stitches.
Which is fucking hard considering she keeps opening her legs, trying to twist her body so I can see her fucking underwear, hoping to entice me.
I swear, patients like these really test my patience, I mean, come on, have some fucking class, I’ve just put twenty stitches in your fucking arm.
Though to be fair, apparently she got the gash in a knife fight with her boyfriend's wife, so something tells me this woman doesn’t have class.
No, I didn’t ask her for her whole story, only how it happened for her records and to see if the cops needed to be called, which they have been because said wife has a knife sticking into her gut.
I grit my teeth as Ms. Halls tries to rub against my leg yet again, opening hers even wider, showing she has no fucking dignity.
The woman actually dared to bitch out the wife, like you know, the wife was the problem, not her who was sleeping with said wife’s husband…
Fucking hell, Trigger had an affair, and even though he didn’t fuck the bitch every day for a year like we all believed, (the man was an idiot, he knew it, especially after he tried killing himself after he realized how much he messed up, and the fucker is lucky Ashley forgave him, or she’s trying to anyway, for their kids), he never would have allowed his mistress to blame his wife, even though he did for a while.
So this woman sitting here, trying to act like she and the husband are innocent, is pathetic and grates at my patience on her nerve.
“He wasn’t even happy anymore,” she tries to explain as she opens her legs even wider again when I gently move her leg back, but I don’t reply.
The cops should be outside waiting to come in and arrest the stupid bitch.
The wife didn’t even start the fight, Ms. Halls did, not liking that she was being demanded to leave the home the wife shared with her husband and kids.
Fuck, she was kicking the husband out as well, but Ms. Halls here lost it. Clearly, she just wanted the man's money, and he was an idiot to fall for it.
I tape up a bit of the bandage, fucking fed up with her shit, and even though it’s not bandaged properly, I'm just about to call the cops in when my phone buzzes, and I frown.
Everyone knows I’m on shift today so why would…
Fuck.
I quickly grab it, knowing it is most likely an emergency, and my heart sinks when I recognize the number.
“Excuse me,” I say to the homewrecker as I push myself back from her on my stool, and she smirks as I answer, “Dr. Levine,” not needing this woman to know I’m a brother.
She has patch chaser written all fucking over her along with marriage wrecker.
“Tank, it’s Chanel from Wincher Resort, I um, uh, well, I–” Chanel cuts herself off and sniffles, and fuck me, everything inside me dies.
I confirm, “Bunny’s passed, hasn’t she?”
“Yes,” Chanel chokes, and I drop my head as my heart sinks.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I’m on my way,” I whisper before hanging up, and I take a deep breath.
Granny made me her beneficiary. She had explicit details planned for her funeral, including getting her granddaughter back. I don’t know how to make that last one come true for her. It's been six years, and Dirty still can't find her.
“Is uh, everything okay?” Ms. Halls asks with a purr, and I clench my jaw to stop snapping.
She’s gone, the last connection I had with Jas, the woman who treated me like family, is gone…
Fuck.
“No,” I mutter, “I need to grab another doctor to complete your care,” I continue as I look at her, and she opens her mouth to complain, but shuts it when I state, “I’ve just found out one of my family members has passed.”
Her caramel eyes soften, but I look away before she can offer to become a shoulder to cry on and quickly stand as I grab her chart and write what I’ve done before walking out of the cubicle without another word to my patient, who calls, “Doctor?!”
She sounds pissed. Ah, well, just wait until she’s arrested in a minute for assault and attempted murder and possible murder.
The wife is still in quite a bad way and may not even make it and her husband is currently at her bedside begging for forgiveness and for her not to die, or so some nurses gossiped about anyhow.
I give the cop outside a nod before I notice my pres looking through a chart, and I call, “Doc,” to gain his attention.
He frowns as I walk over to him and hand him the chart as I state, “I’ve got an emergency I need to attend to outside the hospital, not club business.
Can you take over from me? The patient in room eight is a patch chaser, and the cops are just waiting for her care to be done with before taking her away, but she kept moving, trying to get me to look between her legs so I couldn’t wrap her arm properly, so be careful. ”
Doc’s brows rise in shock before he looks at me intently, but I don’t waver, I don’t show him the earth-shattering fucking pain I feel right now, keeping my hardness front and center, and he nods slowly as he takes the clipboard from me.
“I’m here if you need me,” he says, “For years you’ve kept to yourself, even when growing up, being at the clubhouse wasn’t something you did, but for the past six years you’ve closed yourself off even more than normal, but I’m here, brother.”
I give him a nod, trying to keep my emotions under control before turning and walking away, knowing I have to say goodbye before putting the funeral plans Granny made in place.
***
“Chanel,” I say as I walk into the facility, and the woman looks up, her kind hazel eyes full of unshed tears, her cheeks red from crying.
“Hi,” she chokes, and I give her a small smile while staying on the other side of the oak reception desk instead of comforting her.
The woman has a slight crush, and yeah, she’s cute, with freckles dusting her button nose and her caramel hair curled around her shoulders.
She has a curvy body that most men would love to grip a hold of, but I, there’s nothing there on my side.
I have never in the six years I’ve been coming here on my own, entertained the woman, and I never will.
Even if in my mind it’s time to move on, when I get the nerve to do so, it won’t be with this woman.
“She has a thing for you,” Jas whispers as we walk out of the facility and I turn to face her in confusion, only to find her brows furrowed cutely, her gaze out in the parking lot, and I follow her gaze towards my bike, where the new receptionist stands, eyeing it, biting her bottom lip.
Is it bad that I'm loving her jealousy? Nope, I don’t think it is…
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m completely in love with this girl who consumes my every thought, huh?” I reply with a grin, and my girl side-eyes me, but I don’t miss the shy smile forming on her pretty face.
Fuck, that look makes my heart race and my cock twitch all at once.
Chuckling, I let go of her hand and instead wrap my arm around her waist as I pull her into me and kiss her head.
Jas leans into me and grips my cut as we walk towards my bike, drawing the new receptionist's attention. I don’t look to see the disappointment on her face, instead, I lock eyes with my girl and smirk at the look of awe on her face.
This girl, I swear…
“Has Matron managed to get a hold of her granddaughter?” I ask professionally, and Chanel tenses.
Two weeks after Jas left, she tried to make a move, claimed Granny encouraged it, which was bullshit, fuck, the woman nearly threw her hip out trying to lay Chanel out for lying. Then she tried a month after Jas left, then three months, and so on.
For the past six years, the woman has continued to make a pass at me, so bringing up the woman who has denied her the man she has made perfectly clear she wants but has shown no interest in is a sore subject.
Something tells me this woman has never been told no before.
“Yes, she did,” she reluctantly admits as she twiddles with her rings and my heart stutters as she says, “I was sitting next to her when the call connected and her granddaughter, I, uh, I heard her scream in pain when Matron told her…”
My jaw ticks, but I try not to show any emotion.
I tried getting Matron to give me Jasmine’s number, but she said only Granny had it and that she’d only be able to access it once she passed.
Maybe I could…
I shake my head, already getting that thought out of my head. She left me, left Granny and her uncle, and it’s been six years with no contact until a few days ago.
She doesn’t want me, this life.
Chanel clears her throat, “Matron told her when the funeral will be after reading the instructions she left for you to do.”
I nod before turning towards the door without another word, pissed that I haven’t heard fuck all from the girl, nothing in six years, no explanation and head to say goodbye to a woman I saw as family.
***
Four hours later, after calling that jackass Brady to inform him of Granny’s passing and that the funeral is all sorted and explaining that his family is to be seated on the second row at Granny’s insistence, I storm into the clubhouse, a place I really don’t fucking want to be, but I need to get my anger out.
“I’m sorry, Tank, before I hung up, she demanded I remove any trace of her number, so I did…”
Matron’s words echo in my head as I slam the door behind me, getting everyone’s attention.
“Son?” Dad questions, gently moving Tiffany away from him, making her smile softly at me, while Mama glares at the woman but clearly stayed quiet when the clubwhore leaned against her husband.
I ignore him and everyone around me and storm across the common room, and no, I don’t miss Lyndsey and Kate sitting next to my mother, both staring at me with want.
“Tank?” Doc questions next when I don’t answer Dad, but I wave him off and stomp towards the back door, grabbing my pistol from behind my back in the holster while his old lady holds their daughter Bailey, watching with concern.
She’s not long given birth again to a little boy and I know Doc is itching to knock her up again.
Jealousy consumes me as I slam the door open, my gun in hand.
I need a release before I kill someone.
“Fuck,” I hear Trigger mutter, “he’s going to the tree,” but I don’t stop.
I need to get this anger out. She has to know that I’ve been left in charge of the funeral, that I had to go say goodbye to her grandmother, the woman she saw as a mother, so why in the fuck will she not speak to me?
What in the fuck did I do to warrant this kind of fucking heartbreak from her when she promised me forever?
I spot the willow tree all brothers shoot at to get their anger out, and I hold my gun up, eye the distance before shooting, my finger continuously on the trigger, bark flying everywhere the closer I get.
My anger builds as I run out of bullets, a roar ready to escape before I destroy the yard but a thud drops at my feet stopping me, and I look down to see several magazines before Doc states, “I’m right here… ”
I sniff hard, my emotions wanting to break, my heartache fucking suffocating, and I bend and grab another magazine, and I remove the empty one before starting all over again.
She left me, with no word, she fucking left me, and right now, it feels like I’ve done something wrong, but I just don’t know what.
She was my life, fuck, she is my life, yet I’m not hers, am I?