“You sure about that, sweetheart? Considering your situation?” she asked, not unkindly.
I gave her a look. She obviously knew about my… situation. Nice euphemism for it. It was a small town, plus the biker circle was even smaller, and my kidnapping, rape, and rescue were not small news. Laura Maye may not have had an alpha biker claiming her and growling in monosyllables like the rest of the women did, she still had a weird place in it all.
“Oh it’s not the wine I have a problem with. More so the heroin,” I said, waving my hand dismissively.
The side of her face jerked as if a smile were growing there. She reached up for a glass and starting pouring. “Well, we don’t sell that here, so you’re safe,” she deadpanned.
I gave her a jaunty smile, or what I hoped passed for one. Safe? Yeah right. I could be ten thousand miles from a needle and still sense its pull. I’d never be ‘safe’ from it. Never be free. I just had to learn to live with the chains. Accessorize around them.
“Plus, I think after what you’ve been through, not having something to salve the burn might just be cruel.” She pushed the glass towards me and leaned forward. “We all need a little something to get us through the hardships that life throws at us, and babe, you’ve had a lot more than many.”
I gulped my wine, needing it to anesthetize against the kindness.
“I’m sure there are many people out there who’ve had it worse. I’m still here.” I shrugged.
Laura Maye didn’t buy my nonchalance. I wasn’t exactly convincing. “It’s okay to not be okay, you know. To scream at the world and curse whatever may control us all for putting you in this situation. To fall apart.”
I barely knew this woman, and the bitch part of me urged me to tell her to mind her own business and leave me to my own shit, but I didn’t. Such naked kindness shouldn’t be treated with vulnerability disguised as cruelness. I met her eyes.
“I’m already apart,” I confessed. “A thousand little pieces rattling inside an obviously hot package.” I grinned slyly. “I’ve already fallen apart. That was the easy part. It’s putting myself back together that’s the bitch.”
Laura Maye blinked at me a couple times and then nodded, pouring herself a drink. “Don’t I know it,” she murmured, her tone hinting at the fact demons lurked behind the long mascara laden lashes. She clinked her glass to mine. “To putting ourselves back together.”
“May we figure it out before we’re fifty,” I added.
She grinned and sipped her drink.
“There a reason why you’re sittin’ in here alone when you’ve got a very delicious biker sharing your bed?” she asked, her eyes going to the rest of the bar. It was pretty much empty since it was the lull between afternoon and evening. And it was a Wednesday afternoon. The place was still dope, and I had the feeling the people of the small town would filter in, plus the numerous tourists who headed for coastal towns this time of year.
I sighed, running my fingers up the stem of the glass. “I just needed a minute. A vacation from it all.” I glanced up. “A vacation from a life that is actually just starting to get good again. Because I can’t take all the good in one go, I have to escape and inject some of my bad into it, just to dilute it, so I don’t overdose.” I sipped the wine, for something to do more than anything. “Am I completely fucked-up?” I asked.
She put her bedazzled hand on top of my chipped black nails. Something as simple as a touch from a stranger was something I could handle now. “Yes,” she said. “Completely fucked-up,” she clarified. “But aren’t we all?”
I grinned at her.
Yeah, I liked her.
Spent the whole afternoon talking about everything and nothing, taking my little vacation. I left and my first glass of wine remained, unfinished and half full. I didn’t need a substance to chase nothingness.
I needed my latest addiction.
One I didn’t plan on kicking any time soon.
So I went home.
To Gabriel.
“Shit, firefly, it’s freezing. What are you doing out here when you should be in bed with me?” Lucky asked, rubbing my arms before yanking me into his warm embrace.
I keep my gaze upwards, smiling. “You weak-blooded Californians,” I scoffed. “It’s barely cold.”
“I’m far from weak. Let’s go inside right now. Arm wrestle,” he challenged.
“Because challenging a woman who can’t even do a push-up counts as a display of strength?” I asked in a serious tone.
The arms around me tightened. “How about I use my considerable strength in the way which God intended,” he murmured.
I let out a chuckle and warmth pulled at my stomach as his hands delved into the front of my panties. I felt him harden at my back.