Eight weeks I kept my hands to myself, giving her space to see me, the good and the twisted evil. The more she was around me, I kept seeing the once very short strands start to grow. The freckles on her cheeks, I counted almost all of them and thought I wasn’t done. I wanted her comfortable, I wanted her to feel safe and maybe on the edge to explore. I just had to wait and see what little hints she’d give me.
Every moment with her was a gift.
Even after the messages, I was surprised that she came back. She would say it was a sense of duty. But I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing her voice say my name like she wanted everything I could give her. She sparked that little fire that kept me warm until I could have her by my side without a fight.
Okay, she could fight me, slap me, or even scratch me with her nails leaving her mark on me. I’d like to see the fight she had in her, only for her to cave in and admit she wanted this. At the end, have her safe in my arms again.
I was the sad simp of a man.
I still watched her, and she still didn't know it. But I watched the cameras, making mental notes of when herex-husbandattempted and or succeeded in hurting her. A couple of times she had called Greene at the station. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Greene couldn’t do anything about getting her out of harm’s way. I could make him, but Amelia might hate me for it. She would have to tell me, or else my mind would spin too many scenarios and act on each one of them.
Like I care what she would think, she'd be lucky I didn't just end his pathetic life for having his hands on her. Maybe I should have cut off his hands and delivered it to her in a pretty box. The possibilities were endless.
As fucked up as it was, I watched her sleep, watch her toss and turn, hoping that I’d hear her call out my name in the dark.
A knock at the door broke my thoughts. “Shooter, man, come on and load up. Fight night.”
Fight night was happening and I knew with being down for so long and recovering, I needed a night full of mayhem and chaos. My mind had been too quiet with calmness and innocence. I craved a shred of violence, even if I wasn’t the one fighting. I wanted blood to be shed, someone so on the brink of death that they ultimately surrendered.
My hope was that the young Dillon would show the world what he was made of, and that one last fight would carry his ass out of a hole and I could get him a job teaching. He didn’t need to enter my world of caged up anger and a thirst for blood on the floor. MC life would not be for Dillon if I had anything to say on the subject.
Another knock. “Shoot, man. B.B. is chomping at the bits. Hank and Otis are already on the way.” Stray’s voice echoed through the door.
I grumbled, “Fuck, man. Yeah, I’m coming.”
I also needed the ride to clear my head; she was swimming in my thoughts. That’s where she stayed. People always talked about the “love at first sight” or “you’ll know when it’s time”, I just thought it was just something you said to the single people to keep their hope alive. Fuck, were they ever right.
I ripped open the door, and there stood a tired Stray looking like he was ready to pass out. He glanced down at my once-injured leg and snapped his attention back to me. “Bet it feels good to have the shit off.”
“Bittersweet,” I grunted out, pulling the door behind me.
“You’re just saying that because your little nurse won’t be around anymore,” Stray joked, taking a few steps in front of me. “Surprised you ain’t leaving a trail of condoms around.”
Something snapped in me and all I saw was red and my body writhing with adrenaline. I reached for the back of his cut, yanking him clean across the hall and up against the wall. Stray let out a hard grunt, trying to catch his breath at the same time. My arm smashed against his throat, pinning him flushed against the wall.
“Shooter,” Stray coughed out. “Easy, man.”
I felt the growl in my voice rumble through my body. The pure, intense anger flooding my vision. “Talk about her like that again, Stray, and I’ll gladly do jail time. That nurse is my ol’ lady.”
Stray struggled under my hold, scrambling to find his footing. Stray hadn’t found a partner of his own, yet at that moment, I didn’t fucking care.He doesn't know what it feels like to be obsessed.
“You ain’t fucking claimed her yet, how the fuck was I supposed to know.” Stray tried to reason with me, gripping at my arm. I would end up bruising him and have to explain all the marks left behind.
I saw the panic in his eyes, it was a look that I knew all too well on the battlefield, especially looking into wounded soldiers who didn’t know if my face was the last one they would see or if they would be returning home to their loved ones. I never wanted to be their last image.
“Shooter, let go, man. I’m sorry, okay,” Stray kept pleading as the rage in me still had a hold on me.
River.
I heard her voice in my mind. Like a lullaby easing the mind into a happier state. Like the bright sunlight early in the morning after the best sleep of your life.
River.
All I heard was her. My mind flashed to moments of her pressing against me, my arms wrapped around her, never letting her go. A happy moment, one I was hanging on to.
Thoughts snapped back to a pinned Stray, my hold easing up, my body winding down from the burst of heated frustration. The realization that I said certain words already and part of me never regretted it.
I stepped back as Stray hunched over, attempting to find his breathing. A rush of guilt for my behavior plowed through me. I fucked up in so many ways. I needed to keep my head on straight for the remainder of the event.
