Brother. I think I’ve been permanently smiling since they recommenced calling me that.
39
Stormy…
Cat’s driving as we head away from the clubhouse while I’m in the passenger seat chuckling to myself.
“What?” She takes her eyes off the road for a second and throws me a suspicious look.
I move my head side to side as I tell her, “I can’t believe you persuaded them to get chickens.”
She giggles. “Cowboy’s on board. His eyes lit up at the thought of fresh eggs.”
Yeah, and some of the brothers have been talking about fried chicken, but I won’t remind her of that. Hopefully they’ll get enough that we can swap them out and not have her examining her meals too closely. I know how much Cat has missed having livestock around, even if it’s just of the feathered sort. At least once I’d gotten her a new phone and hooked her up with her old number, she’d received a slew of updates from Seamus, all with photos of Star, her old pony, being spoiled rotten by his grandkid. That had certainly put a smile on her face.
Behind the old clubhouse, well, just the clubhouse now I suppose, is a large expanse of wasteland. Cowboy decided to plant a vegetable and herb garden so we can have fresh food. His new venture makes me fuckin’ glad I didn’t have to sew on that prospect patch. Working the land is not something I need on my résumé.
Viper and his crew descended a couple of weeks back. Some of the brothers have moved out while the building work, to make the place habitable to cater for the number of us and the expansion that’s required, is ongoing, but Cat and I have stayed. She’s thrown herself in to supervising the decorating, and even Cowboy’s taken to consulting her on things like countertops. Me? I’ve split my time between advising on the construction of the gym and equipment, and working with Swift, Honor and Duty on the provision of a new comms room. It’s exciting, most of our equipment was a year or so old, and in the age of technology, state of the art changes all the time. For now, we’re making do with a few laptops hurriedly purchased, and can’t wait to get a proper set up again. To say over the past four weeks we’ve been busy is an understatement.
One thing our business has made us is comfortably well off, so money’s no object, or hasn’t become so yet. For now, Rascal’s still smiling and signing off purchases which I take as a sign we haven’t gone overboard.
Cat drives to the hospital without direction, having started to learn the city’s roads. Once there, she expertly parks the truck. When she applies the handbrake, she turns to me. “You sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”
I wink at her. “I’m a big boy, I think I can handle it. And you’ve got your own appointment.”
Her face falls. “Yeah.”
“I can put mine off.” I reach for her hand.
She squeezes mine before releasing it. “We’ve already talked about this. I’d rather go by myself.” Her eyes glaze slightly, and I know she thinks she needs time to process alone whatever she might be told.
I don’t try and persuade her, even though I’d give anything to be by her side. Cat’s got an independent streak, and while at times I don’t like it, I’ve learned arguing with her once she’s got something set in her mind causes a flare of her temper. I’ll be there, though, after. I’ll know if there’s something wrong by the expression on her face. I think I’m prepared for anything, as I’ve told her more than once, we’re stronger together, and we can face anything. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it, okay?”
I hate that she sniffs, as if she’s pre-empting her results and fearing the worst, but I keep silent as she visibly pulls herself together and puts on a strong front. “You better get inside, or else you’ll miss your appointment. I know you’re itching to get back on your bike. You’ve been staring at it ever since the prospects trailered it back from Kentucky.”
I can’t deny that she’s right, I have. What’s a biker without his motorcycle and working limbs to ride it? Gears and Igor had brought it to Utah along with all our stuff we had packed up. The furniture and shit stayed in storage. Someday, when the clubhouse is finished, I’m hoping Cat and I will look for a place of our own. Before they start culling the chickens, hopefully.
I’m not the only one to miss my bike. Luckily most of the brothers had ridden their bikes to the airport that fateful night, but Grinch’s, Goofy’s and the prospects’ had been lost. New models have been arriving, another club purchase, but some miss the rides they’ve spent time personalising. With all the expense though, it’s a wonder that the treasurer is still in a good mood.
I ease myself out of the truck, and get the crutches in position, hopefully for the last time. When she comes around my side, I lean forward and kiss her. I don’t wish her good luck, preferring to avoid the reference it could be otherwise.
“I’ll text you if I can’t find you.” Then, muttering my unspoken desires for a positive outcome under my breath, I swing and hop away, leaving her.
My appointment doesn’t take long. I don’t even need my practised arguments of why I’m good to have the casts taken off. The doctor just looks at the x-rays, tells me my bones have mended and gets those darn things off.
Did I expect to be able to walk normally? Yeah, I suppose I did. But my wrist and leg are weak, and I take on board the exercises he suggests, and the list of physiotherapy appointments he sets up.
When I go to find my woman, the only drawback is I’m still favouring my leg. But hell, it’s fucking fantastic to put two feet to the ground.
It doesn’t take long to find her. She’s waiting outside for me.
“Well?” I ask, impatiently, suspecting the results from the smile on her face.
“I’m clear of almost everything. He did suggest using a condom to be sure for a while.”
“How long’s a while?” My eyes narrow.
She bites her lip. “Syphilis can take twenty years to show up, and some forms of Hepatitis up to four months. HPV, maybe ten years.”
“Fuck that,” I growl. I’ll take my chances. I want her pregnant long before a decade has passed. That’s if…
“And?”
Her eyes light up. “I dodged a bullet. I’m not pregnant.”
As relief floods through me, I pull her to me, glad she doesn’t have to cope with decisions that would have to be made if she was, but can’t help adding, “Yet.”
“Yet?”
“Yeah. You’re already my woman, now I’m going to marry you and give you babies.”
“Yeah?” Her breathing speeds up. “To do that, we’ll have to fuck.”
“Make love,” I correct her, then take a deep breath. “Well, when you’re ready for that.”
We’ve slept in the same bed since the night of Gun’s attack, neither of us could bear to be parted. It’s only in the past couple of weeks we’ve started to touch each other. Only days since I first put my mouth on her as I slowly reacclimatise her with my touch. Baby steps. I’m being so fucking careful, too much too soon will send her straight back to her nightmare.