Chapter 29
Ricochet
Iwalked up to The Bunker and stared at the door for a few minutes before I turned and sat on a bench outside. I wasn’t in the mood to go inside yet. For once, drinking myself stupid wasn’t that appealing. “Good job, asshole. You did it again,” I muttered to myself.
Now what?
There was no sense in chasing after her tonight.
She was scared. Following her would only freak her out more.
I’d just add this to the list of things I needed to unfuck.
Apparently, Trent was on a mission to mess with me.
I’d warn Lock and Rip in the morning, but I knew what they’d say. They’d tell me to stay away from him.
Normally, we’d roll a little fuck stick like Trent up and make him disappear for fucking with our business.
But this asshole had a leg up on us. The last thing we needed was the mayor or the DA looking our way.
And since he seemed to be connected to both, the best thing to do was stay away from him as much as possible.
I didn’t like this, being at his mercy. But I had others to think about.
The women and children that had escaped the cult were depending on me not doing something stupid.
As much as I hated to say it, I needed to be an adult.
I looked down at the ground, staring at the weeds pushing up through the gravel. For some reason their presence irritated me. An imperfection ruining everything.
Getting off the bench, I knelt down in the gravel, grasping the nearest weed by the roots and pulling. I ignored the voice telling me I had better things to do and focused instead on the weeds. Something about pulling them was easing the tension that was coiling up inside of me.
From down here I could see how out of control they had gotten. The entire perimeter and every area with gravel had the damn things coming up. I kept pulling and moving along. It was helping me keep my mind blank and my temper managed.
No one needed to tell me that I was the weeds.
That was what some jack off therapist would tell me.
Our aunt had made us see one when we’d come to live with her, after our parents had died.
I’d come by my dislike of them naturally.
The guy had been a jerk and had kept pushing when I wasn’t ready to talk.
Shaking my head, I focused back on the weeds.
I was the imperfect thing ruining other people’s lives.
My sister’s. My club. The school that the women and children from the cult needed.
Now Jordan was running from me. How could I blame her?
The one thing she was afraid of was the one thing I did best. I wasn’t sure I could quit fighting.
It would mean that I had to stop protecting people.
Let people like Trent make disgusting threats to the people I loved.
I couldn’t do that. She couldn’t ask that of me.
It was as much a part of me as my eye color.
There was no changing it. But I didn’t want to lose her either.
Snarling in frustration, I ripped at the encroaching vegetation.
I might not be able to contain my temper, or alleviate my girlfriend's fear, but I could at least make the club look like it wasn’t abandoned.
It was the only thing I had control over and I was happy settling for any semblance of calm.
I kept moving along in a slow, but methodical manner, leaving not a single blade of grass untouched. The area behind me was immaculate. At some point during my fixation with weed pulling Toxic had decided to step outside.
His boots filled my vision as I squatted there.
I didn’t need to look up at his face to see the look on it.
I knew him well enough to imagine what his expression looked like, something between confusion and disbelief.
That tended to happen when you found one of your brothers manically pulling weeds in the middle of the night.
“Want a beer?” he asked.
Instead of answering, I hopped up onto a picnic table that was nearby.
The realization of just how far I’d gone while weeding struck me.
There was a trail of dead weeds all around the perimeter.
I had nearly come full circle back to where I had started pulling them.
Accepting the beer, I watched as he sat on the table next to me.
I was sure some talk was coming. It was the last thing I was ready for right now, so I took a swig from the bottle, then started tearing at the label.
I could see from my peripheral vision that he was staring up at the stars. After a few minutes he finally spoke. “When you were in Afghanistan, what food did you crave the most?”
Taking another drink, I considered his question. Instead of answering, I asked, “What?” He always managed to throw me off kilter. And somehow the question gave my searching mind something to focus on. The unsteady, desperate desire to control everything around me started to fade away.
He stopped looking at the stars and stared at me. His expression was a mask of patience. “What food? Everyone has something they crave in Afghanistan, since your food options are limited to whatever the chow hall provides. What did you crave most?”
I blinked at him a few times, no idea what he was getting at, but an answer rolled out all on its own.
“My sister's prime rib. She bakes it with this amazing spice and the edge crusts over.” My mouth was suddenly watering at the thought.
Where had that come from? The reminder further drove away the loss of control and the emotions it evoked.
Toxic smiled. “On my first deployment, I wanted…everything. Pizza from Georgino’s, tacos from Guadalajara’s, fresh baked donuts from that bakery by the university. I wanted every damn plate you could think of.”
He looked at the beer bottle hanging from his hands and laughed before continuing.
“When I got home I stayed with my dad for a few months while I was on leave, trying to figure out what to do next. I finally had the chance to eat everything I’d been craving.
Thing is, I couldn’t decide. I went from having no options on food, just what the chow hall was serving, to having everything available.
I was so overwhelmed at the options that I was paralyzed. ”
I shifted on the wooden surface, stretching my legs out and looking over at him. “Seriously?” It was all I could mutter. All I could give at the moment, but it was something. Toxic didn’t seem to mind.
“Oh yeah. I was so concerned that if I got pizza I was missing out on tacos, or that the donut might be stale.
And of course, what to choose off the menu.
So many fucking options. There was always this worry that I would choose wrong.
I went to a grocery store instead, and when I saw all the items I was paralyzed again.
I knew how to cook, it wasn't like I’d forgotten.
But cooking food took even more decision making than going out to eat.
I’d spent the last year making decisions on combat missions, weapons loads, routes in and out of target areas, but here I was paralyzed by what to eat.” He laughed again and took a long pull from the bottle.
I was floored. I looked at the dirt on my hands, behind me at the trail of weeds I’d uprooted.
And it all made sense. He was making sense.
I’d spent months finally learning how to live like a normal guy again, and all it had taken was one fight with my old lady to knock me back on my ass.
That was just something I was going to have to live with because everything that had happened to me would live on inside of me for the remainder of my life.
That didn’t mean I had to let it paralyze me.
I didn’t have to give in and let it take control of me. “What did you finally eat?
He smiled. “Beef jerky and granola bars.”
“What?” I laughed with him. Something loosened inside of me at his admission.
Something I’d never really stopped to consider before.
These men understood me. They knew more about me and the things that I’d gone through than many could, because a lot of them had been through similar experiences.
I’d never really given them the chance to help me before.
It was a sobering realization, but one that made me feel that much more connected to my brothers.
“That's like…that’s the only snack we had in abundance in Afghanistan,” I said with another chuckle.
People from all over the U.S. would send care packages to us, and they always had granola bars and jerky.
They were snacks that wouldn’t melt and never went bad.
You would eat more of those on a deployment than a normal person would in a lifetime.
“I went back to what I knew. When I had too many options I just defaulted to what was familiar. I ate nothing but jerky and granola until my dad noticed. He didn’t say anything, just took me out to pizza and ordered the meat lovers.
It was what I always ordered as a kid. He knew just what I needed.
It broke the spell. After tasting that greasy, cheese and meat covered delight I was able to function again. ”
I wiped my hands against my pants in a futile attempt to get the dirt off them. “I…uh, I guess weeding the parking lot at midnight isn’t much better than eating jerky and granola.”
“Everyone comes home and faces something that's supposed to be normal that turns out to be terrifying, so we all default to something we can control. Some of us find a productive outlet. Lockout remodeled the whole bar. Rip runs the damn thing now. Some of us…eat granola.”
“Hmm,” I grunted
“Thing is, you can’t distract yourself forever.
Eventually you run out of weeds. Then what?
You can only control something that's irrelevant for so long until you realize it's irrelevant. It's a distraction that’s keeping you from doing what you really need to. Sooner or later you have to integrate back into the real world.”
I knew he was right. I wasn’t fooling myself by weeding a parking lot by hand. I stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks Toxic.”
“Good talk” He said, leaning back across that table and looking back up at the stars. “Now, go away.”
Laughing, I walked toward the bar. I was only a few feet away when Hellfire opened the door.
“There you are. Figured you’d be stopping by. Smoke should be here anytime.” He must have seen the worry on my face, because he was quick to reassure me. “Butcher offered to take over for him for the night. The girls will be perfectly safe while we get you blitzed.”
“I don’t think I need blitzed.”
“Oh,” he replied, with a grin on his face as he slapped a hand on my back, “you, my friend, definitely need to get blitzed. Then you can tell me the details about smashing in Trent’s face. And what happened with Jordan.”
There was empathy shining there in his eyes, though he knew better than to express it. This was the way we comforted each other. I glanced over toward the picnic table. Toxic raised his beer in a salute. I mimicked the gesture, then stepped inside.
The music was loud, the air was stale, and it was packed full of friends and family.
Somehow Toxic had talked me down and now that I was settled, I knew Hell was right.
I needed to let loose and have a good time with my brothers.
For once I could drink with them and not have to get blackout drunk, not have to dull any pain.
I sat down at the bar and nodded in greeting at Kit.
It took everything inside of me not to ask her if she’d heard from Jordan.
Gwen had mentioned all the women, my sister included, now had a group chat where they texted each other constantly throughout the day.
It pleased me to no end that both my old lady and my sister had found friends in these women, but it was also a bit terrifying.
I didn’t want to imagine the things they texted.
With this crew, there were probably plenty of secrets being spilled about their old men.
Kit set another beer in front of me. “She’s staying the night at her parents’.”
My brows shot up. “Isn’t that a breach of some kind of girl code?”
“Maybe, but I don’t want you worrying about her all night.” Kit put a hand on her hip. “I expect you to fix this, Ricochet. We’re not willing to lose her because of whatever bone headed thing you did.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I plan on it.”
“Good.” She gave my forearm a squeeze. It was her way of reassuring me. Then she was off, tending the bar, and barking at the patrons who were getting impatient.
Hush sat down on the other side of me. “Mind if I join this party?”
“Thought you went to bed, Old Man,” Rip said, walking up. “Let’s take this over to a table. Lock has one over there.”
We all got up and moved. Hush glared at Riptide. “Fuck off. Just wait a few more months. When your pregnant old lady kicks you out of bed because you were snorin’ and woke her up, I’ll remember this.”
We all hooted with laughter and tossed digs and taunts at Hush.
Lock’s eyes met mine and I gave him a nod of acknowledgment.
He was going to need a full report of what had happened tonight.
And I knew he would end up talking with me about Jordan too.
If anyone knew how to give good advice it was him. And…apparently Toxic. Who knew?
I sat back in my chair, relaxed for the first time in hours.
I hadn’t realized how long I’d been out in that fucking parking lot.
Kit kept the beers coming and though my thoughts didn’t stray far from Jordan, I was back under the newly acquired control I’d found over the last few months.
There would be time to fix this. My sunshine loved me as much as I did her.
This wasn’t going to break us apart. We’d figure out how to fix it.