“Thank you for breakfast,” Reaper says from behind me.
I turn to him and grin at his praise. “That’s okay. I enjoy cooking, and your kitchen is amazing.”
His brows lift high in surprise. “I didn’t know a kitchen could make a woman happy.”
“Well, it surely can.”
“You’re an easy woman to please.”
“I’ve always dreamed about working in a beautiful kitchen like yours, with all new state-of-the-art cooking equipment. The black color mixed with the natural wood and the stone countertop is a stunning combination.”
“If you like it so much, I can bring the suggestion of you cooking for the MC to church for a vote?”
“I’d be happy to cook for all of you,” I reply, hoping I can.
I’ve been out of work for so long that I have no computer to do a résumé and I can’t afford to spend money on it, so cooking while I’m here is my only good option. Luckily for me, I love cooking.
FIVE
FIGHTING FOR AIR
Ava
I go back into my room, and it isn’t long until my anxiety returns. I wish I was back in Reaper’s bed so my mind would stop torturing me with thoughts of Beau finding me and taking me back to hell. I wonder if he would physically hurt me to teach me a lesson or tell me he will never hurt me again but mentally torture me instead, like he has been for years.Ava, your dress is too short. You look like a prostitute. Have you gained weight? What have you been doing all day? Why do you always forget something when you buy groceries? Are you dumb or do you enjoy pissing me off?
My nerves coil up so tight I slam my fist against the bed, hating that even though he’s not here, he still has control over me, making me scared and vulnerable.
The thought of leaving the MC because Beau causes too much trouble has my stomach churning. Bomber has made it clear that he doesn’t want me bringing any drama into the club. It scares me that I may have to leave, but I understand why. They don’t owe me anything.
Knock,knock,knock. The door handle wiggles.
“Please, Ava, let me in. You’ve been in there for a while.”
I sniffle, my nose still blocked from crying. “I’m good.”
“Then unlock the door.”
“I need some time to myself, Elena.” My voice breaks a little at the end.
“Okay,” she says, defeated. “I’m always here if you need me.”
“I know.”
Brief silence falls, then she speaks. “You have one day, or I swear I will break the lock.”
A sliver of lightness fills my chest at her attempt to be stern with me. “Okay, I promise.”
I roll over into the fetal position, pulling the duvet up to my chest. The sadness and stress are overwhelming. I don’t have the strength to get out of bed, and I want no one to see me like this. I’m mentally drained, as all the what-ifs and worst-case scenarios keep manifesting, and with each thought, it’s like another punch to my already-worsening mental state.
Over the afternoon and night, Elena keeps checking in on me and leaving food, but I can’t eat, not with the stress. I try to sleep, but I can’t, and I lie there, awake, with my eyes closed.
Needing to go to the bathroom, I pop my head out the door. It must be late because the music has died down again and no one is in the hall, so I drag my feet to the bathroom.
Once I’m done, I open the door but jump backward when I see Reaper leaning against the wall, staring at me.
“At church, the men agreed that you’ll cook for us and we’ll pay you a wage.” His eyes search my face. I’m sure I look as terrible as I feel.
“Thank you,” I breathe out. At least I have a job now. “I’ll be up early tomorrow to cook for everyone.”
