Chapter 17
Nothing to Give
Thunder
It’d been two weeks since the enforcers escorted Gerry out of the clubhouse. I wasn’t a fool. I knew we’d hear from him again, but the three of us had stood outside, agreeing not to tell the girls the details of their mother’s death. There was no point in changing the story now.
Liz hadn’t asked, but I’d walked into our bedroom, and a solemn look passed between us.
Between the phone call and the emergency church, she knew something was up.
I appreciated that she didn’t push for answers because there wasn’t anything good to tell her, but we silently agreed on one thing: Gerry was on his own.
I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I guessed early morning. The sun shone through the curtains. The bed was cold, and I was learning my wife was an early riser. I opened my eyes, rolling onto my back before I went searching for her. She was probably playing checkers with Kyle next door.
The kid Grizz had helped was only two weeks into getting healthy, but I wasn’t the only one who worried what would happen if he relapsed.
The first week had been rough for him, but Scrub had checked his vitals every morning and every evening.
If Grizz wasn’t with his family, he sat with the kid, telling stories to keep Kyle’s mind occupied.
I even took a turn every now and again, but no one let the women near the Playroom.
The second week, Kyle moved upstairs into the bedroom next to us.
He was well enough to be on his own, but his hands and feet shook with tremors.
Scrub wasn’t sure if they would subside, but he’d found a rehab center that offered outpatient therapy, and Kyle had agreed to go.
It was the only requirement Sabre had set for him to stay.
My problem with the kid was my wife. She was getting attached, and I didn’t want her to get hurt if he was going to leave.
She never said so, but Kyle was barely twenty, and while Peter had been older, it made me question if she was trying to replace one with the other.
Kyle, for his part, never rushed Liz. He was the only other person who let her process the world at her own pace. Together, they’d found camaraderie.
I showered and dressed quickly, leaving my club cut on the hook in the wall. I wouldn’t need it at the banquet center as we painted the walls some shitty gray color Flo wanted.
Shutting the door to our room, I took a few steps over to the room next door, and my heart beat for an extra second.
Liz’s face was open, and I couldn’t make out what she was telling Kyle, but her hands were flying all over the place.
She only did that when she was happy, and I sent a silent prayer for Kyle not to fuck up.
I’d stood by as Gerry had broken her heart.
I wouldn’t allow Kyle to do the same thing. If he did, I’d break his face.
I knocked on the open door, and she instantly turned in my direction. Her eyes lit up, and her smile grew even brighter, if that was possible.
She held her hands out to me, and I stepped over to where she sat, kissing the top of her head. I reached for the hand closest to me, kissing the top of her knuckles, before I sat down in the empty chair near the door. “Who’s winning?” I pointed to the checkerboard between them.
“Not like you.” Liz was stunning on her worst day, but she pretended to scoff. Her nose turned up, and while she was going for mock anger, I thought it was cute.
I snickered. “He’s caught on to your game.
” Kyle was indulging us, but I shifted in my chair to scan him.
His eyes were bright, but he didn’t have any color in his face.
Scrub said it would return if he got some sun, but his features looked sunken.
“Good job, kid.” Where Wreck bristled when I called him “son”, Kyle perked up at the word.
“I can’t handle female tears.” He shrugged, adjusting his position as he sat up against the pillows.
“Yeah, neither can I.” I shot him a look before I followed it up with, “Especially not hers.” If Liz wouldn’t listen how many ways this could go bad, then maybe Kyle would. He caught my meaning and nodded his head in agreement.
“Stop,” Liz laughed, understanding my perceived threat. “Time?” She pointed at my shirt.
“Enough to play one more round.” The brothers painting the banquet center were leaving in half an hour, but if I let these two play all morning, Liz would miss her therapy appointment.
“Grace…take me.” She wrinkled her nose at Kyle, as if they were co-conspirators.
“It’s the only way you’re going to get well, Aunt E,” he said to her. “How else are you going to beat me?”
I didn’t want to like this kid, but when he said shit like that, it made me want to take him to therapy myself. If he relapsed, I’d be second in line, after Grizz, to beat it out of him.
“Look who…talk—“ She coughed, reaching for the bottle of water next to her.
“I’m going to go when Dr. Scrub says I can. I don’t want to disappoint Grizz, and Buster scares me.” He dropped his gaze to his lap, the checkerboard between them long forgotten.
“You don’t sound excited.” I tried not to pass judgement, but if he was here to get clean and leave, he had another thing coming.
“I’m not. Did you hear about the place Dr. Scrub found?” he asked me.
“Some, but why don’t you tell us?” I encouraged him to talk.
His eyes searched the room, not really focusing on anything. His hands shook, the tremors obvious, and when he caught me looking, he tucked them under his legs.
“I…” he started and then stopped. Liz reached over and put her hand on his arm, and it gave him the encouragement to try again.
“Therapy doesn’t come cheap. I’ve had several opportunities to get clean, and while I start out really well, I relapse quickly.
The club shouldn’t waste its money on me. I’m not worth it.”
“How…do you…know?” Liz asked gently.
“Bad shit always finds me, Aunt E. Something stupid happens, and I can’t cope, so I turn back to the drugs. They call to me until I’m too sick to see straight. I don’t want to break, but I’m not strong enough to survive.”
“Do you…want…live?” she asked him, staring at his profile.
“Life would be easier without me.” He shifted on the bed, not bothering to look at her.
“Thought that too.”
I kept quiet. I had nothing meaningful to add, and I didn’t want to sound like an overbearing bastard. My life hadn’t been easy, but I couldn’t relate to Kyle as much as Liz could. I sat in my chair, watching over the two of them.
“Miss out.” She focused on me for a beat before she whispered, “We have…good life.”
I laid the back of my head against the top of the chair.
“Did she tell you about her son, kid?” He shook his head, not saying a word.
It was as if he knew how important this was going to be and he didn’t want to spoil the moment.
I told him a watered-down version of what had happened.
“Her sister didn’t give up on her. That’s why she’s here.
Grizz saw something in you, and the club won’t give up on you either.
If you want help, don’t be afraid to take it. ”
“I have nothing to give.”
I watched him, not really sure what I was searching for. He seemed like a decent kid, but I didn’t know him, and he could have been telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. I’d been that way once, minus the drugs, but the Marines had given me a chance, and I made something of myself.
I pulled my phone out and called Count. “Hey, brother, can you come down here for a sec before we head out?” He hung up on me, and I heard his boots padding down the hallway. They stopped two seconds before he appeared in the doorway.
“You rang?” Brother was a character. He wore a form-fitting t-shirt with a cartoon character on the front. I’d never seen it before. The best part was he wore the gray sweatpants Pretty had teased him about.
“Brother,” I said, waving my hand in his direction. “We’re painting.” I tried to give him a hint without calling him directly out on it.
“Yeah.” It was all he said.
“We’re painting,” I emphasized. The other two tried to hide their chuckles behind their hands, but they failed miserably.
“They might send Kelly with lunch.”
It was all I needed to hear before I cracked up laughing, dropping my hands between my legs, hanging my head low.
“Laugh all you want. I don’t care. She’ll be mine, eventually.”
“Talk to her.” Liz got herself under control, still smiling.
“Yeah, I got to work on that. What’s up?” Count leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Kyle here is looking for a job once he regains his strength. He’s twenty, so legally, he can work in the tit show.” I hoped Count picked up what I was putting down, so that I didn’t actually have to say it.
“Yes!” He pumped his hands in the air, but his fingertips brushed the top of the door. “I got to get approval first, but yes.” He pointed at Kyle. “How’s your womanizing skills?”
“What skills?”
“Perfect.” Count turned around, whistling as he walked back down the hallway. “I’m getting out of the tit show,” we heard him cry.