“As long as I get a redo on girls’ night this weekend. I demand a slumber party!” Charlie said, and I laughed.
“You’ve got a deal,” I agreed as Bash made a weird noise.
“What?” Charlie and I said in unison.
“We don’t sleep apart,” he grumbled, and both Charlie and I looked at him strangely. Bash stared at me, his eyes heated, and I couldn’t help but think of all the new things he had shown me in the bedroom. Realizing I was turning red, I tried to backpedal before Charlie picked up on anything.
“Okay, no slumber party, but Bash isn’t allowed to come over until you leave. Does that work?” I offered, silently begging her not to ask any follow up questions.
“YOU HAD SEX!” Charlie yelled on a gasp, staring between the two of us.
“You forgave Bash before me AND had makeup sex with him! I’m supposed to be your BFF. Really, Fee? Now I’m hurt.” Unable to form a coherent response, some sort of embarrassed squawk came out of me before I turned to Bash for some help.
Eyeing him, Bash had the indecency to look smug, causing me to blush even more profusely before scowling at him. Both he and Charlie quickly started laughing at my discomfort, and I couldn’t help but join in. Soon, all three of us were in stitches as, piece by piece, we started to heal.
Bash
Priorities became glaringly clear in the aftermath of making a poor decision. When it came to the club, to the garage, and even to my family, I found strength and comfort in making sure everyone was on the right path. Making tough choices was the area in which I was most confident.
What I hadn’t realized, though, was that my mentality was of a person used to working with a group, a boss, or team leader. Where the opposition quieted down with the knowledge that my directives were in the best interest of the whole. Fiona was right to call me out on acting like her VP.
I didn’t want to have dominion over Fee. I wanted to support her, watch her flourish as she received everything she never thought she could have. I wanted to be her safe haven. She could go out and spread her wings, knowing I would always be waiting to make sure she landed safely.
Thinking about that night brought a variety of feelings out of me. I hated my actions and berated myself over my stupidity. Getting Fiona’s door fixed only helped me feel slightly better. The strongest emotion, though, was fear of losing out on something monumental before it had even gotten started.
That was what solidified everything for me. Whether I had realized it or not, showing her my house was the first step, and putting her on the back of my bike was the second. Fiona was it for me; she was my future.
Racing to her that night, the idea that I might have fucked that up, lost her trust to an irreparable degree, ate at me. When I first got to her apartment, I was determined to push my way through to make her understand that what I did wasn’t so bad because it was done to protect her.
Instead, when I finally got to her, I realized just how much I had hurt her instead. That was what broke me, how much pain I had unleashed with that file. It made me realize I had to dig deep, reach down, and share parts of myself I had locked away from everyone, if I was asking her to do the same.
I still cringed at the reminder that I didn’t ask her; I took that option away from her. I didn’t remember all that I’d said that night, just a desperate desire to explain how much she meant to me, how poorly I handled the situation, and how I had allowed the need to prove I could take care of her to override common decency.
What I didn’t expect was for that night to end up the way it had. Trying to explain what it felt like every time I touched Fiona was impossible. If I thought I was attached or possessive before, it was nothing like what she had unleashed when she gave herself over to me. I could have died a happy man after that night, and every time since felt better than the last.
At that point, I didn’t think I would ever get used to the effect Fiona has on me. Touching her, tasting her, being insideher. I never wanted it to end, and was always ready to go again. Whenever sanity broke through, and I started to question if I was pushing Fee too hard, asking too much of her, she looked back at me with equal fervor.
She trusted me to make her feel good and show her all the different ways to accomplish that. I was insatiable, sometimes taking her multiple times a night. I would find myself waking up out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night, an inexplicable feeling of panic running through me.
Fee, always at my side now, wouldn’t notice as she was lost in a deep sleep. Sometimes, I would stay up and just look at her, trying to memorize every detail, down to each and every freckle. Other times, I needed to remind myself that she was there and mine.
She never complained when I woke her up, joining our bodies so we were one. The high from that night lasted a couple of days, taking us through the weekend until Fiona decided it was time to talk with me and Charlie.
Every time I thought about that conversation, it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over my head. Hearing Fee tell us about her childhood in her self-deprecating but cold tone was its own sort of hell. I was ashamed, and hated myself for pushing her to that moment, for forcing ourselves into her business.
With every bit she told us, every question she answered, my rage burned even deeper—at myself, but mostly at her parents and neighbors. It made me want to tear the whole town down, knowing that not a single person had tried to help those kids. They all stood idly by, watching my girl get beat, ridiculed, starved, and who knew what else. Some days, it took more energy than I wanted to admit, keeping myself from riding over there and ending those fuckers.
It made trying to work peacefully with Atlas on our latest project much more difficult. Knowing what I did now abouttheir parents and Fiona’s childhood, I could barely stand the sound of his voice. Every interaction with him was a reminder of something awful Fee had to put up with.
The only reason I didn’t jump down his throat was the reminder that he had spent his childhood protecting Fiona, that he did as much as he could for someone his age with no resources or help. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.
It didn’t help matters that he was clearly trying to get intel on Fiona during each call or meeting. I tried to keep my shit locked down tight, knowing the biggest form of punishment was denying him the information he so desperately was looking for. But it didn’t make the desire to beat the shit out of him any less urgent.
The group working on the new safe house was supposed to come through in a few weeks to finalize the building blueprints. After everyone had gotten off the phone, my cell rang. Recognizing Atlas’s number, I hesitated before answering.
“Atlas,” I said on a grunt.
“When we come through in a few weeks, is my sister gonna be at the clubhouse? Does she have a room there?”
