“I’m ready.” She gestures at my leg. “It’s time, isn’t it? With your casts off and my results, Gun no longer has any control over us. It’s time to move on.”
Curling my hand around her neck, I exhale. “Are you sure?”
Green eyes, now with a spark, stare up into mine. “I think I am.”
“I’ll drive.” I snatch the keys from her hand and move toward the truck faster than I’ve done for weeks. Laughing loudly, she follows.
Fuck, every time she makes that sound, I appreciate it. There had been a time when I thought I’d never hear that again. Almost losing her, almost dying myself, has made me realise my life might have had a fucked up beginning but because of her, it’s definitely become worth living for.
Driving for the first time in weeks, I go faster than she had done, and get back to the clubhouse in record time with just one thing on my mind.
“Hey, Brother!” Piston calls out as I enter. He comes to a stop and nods appreciatively as he notices my casts are off. “This came for you in the mail.”
It’s an envelope which feels like it’s got documents inside. There’s no return address. After examining it carefully I find nothing about it to raise my suspicions, so I slide it open.
“What is it?” Cat asks.
“I don’t know…” A photograph drops into my hand. It’s a picture of my mother and that must be me as a toddler. I didn’t know any existed having thought, if there were any, that my dad had destroyed them. Who the fuck sent it to me, and why? I tap out the documents, starting with a press cutting. The headline itself reveals all.
Drunk Driver Kills Young Mother
Natalie Palmer (26) was killed when she was crossing the road yesterday. A man’s been arrested and charged with driving under the influence. She leaves behind a husband and six-year-old son.
That’s all there is. In the scheme of things, it seems Natalie Palmer wasn’t important. To me, she was, her supposed abandonment had fucked up my life, but to anyone else she was irrelevant, only worth a few lines. I read it once, again, then for a third time. As the implications hit, I stagger, needing to balance myself against the bar.
Why had my father lied?
My whole fucking time on earth had been shaped by the belief she walked out on me, a six-year-old unlovable kid that she had no problem leaving behind. I’d found it hard to trust as I’d been left by the one person who should have loved me unconditionally, instead being raised by a man who hated me.
She hadn’t left of her own accord.
I let the papers drop out of my hand and as fast as my weak leg will take me, head up to our room, wanting time and space to process what this means. My whole life has been a lie.
“Finn?”
Flung face down on the bed I’m aware she’s entered and closed the door. Unmanly tears seep from my eyes as I mourn for a woman whose life was cut short and the boy she inadvertently left behind.
I know she’ll have read the article, who wouldn’t? “Why did he lie to me?”
The bed dips as she sits on it. “Who knows, Finn? Maybe he thought it was easier on a child. He lost her too.”
“I believed him. I never questioned she’d just walked out. Christ, Cat, I envisaged her living a whole new life with a new family. He made me hate her.” And in doing so, I grew up hating myself. I should have looked for her, but instead I’d tried to wipe her from my mind.
Her arms come around me and gently she rocks me. “Did you notice who the letter came from?” When my head provides a negative response, she tells me, “There was a note from Pip. He said he hoped this would make sense of the past and told you to remember you can trust him. He said soon, whatever that may mean.”
He means it will be soon that he takes Smythe down.
“I spent my life never letting anyone get close, Cat. And it all goes back to that fuckin’ lie you hold in your hands.”
“But you let me get close, lover.” She leans into me, sits up and with gentle prodding gets me to roll over onto my back. Then, fuck me, she straddles me. “The past is behind us, both yours and mine. It has no power to hurt us anymore.”
My eyes flick to hers fast. Her words were a message for me and for her.
Gently she moves her hips back and forth, her movements having a predictable effect on my cock. When she notices my growing hardness, she grins.
“Hmm. I think you promised me some action when we got back.”
I move my hands under my head and rest back on the pillow. “I’m all yours. Take me.”
It will work better like this. Me giving her control.
“Yeah?” Her hands trace my now throbbing denim covered dick. “Is this mine?”
“All yours. But, woman, it’s been fuckin’ weeks. Don’t play too long.”
“Ooh, on edge, are we?”
I cock an eyebrow at her. “You could say that.”
I thought the first time we actually got down to fuck she’d be nervous. I love this playful side of her. It’s different. I’m not taking like that bastard did. Although it goes against my nature, I’m leaving everything up to her.
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as her hands fiddle with the button on the shorts I wore for the last time over my cast today. My hands itch to help, but apart from tightening my stomach to give her more room to work, I stick to my resolve.
Relieved I’m not wearing button up shorts, this torture is more than only a strong-willed man could stand, I hold my breath as she finally pushes it through the hole, and starts to move my zipper down.
She’s careful, though. I’ve not gone commando today, she still eases it down making sure to keep it well away from my dick. Her fingers though, they brush my shaft, even that gentle touch makes me suck in air through my teeth. If she doesn’t watch out, I could blow.
Is she going to jerk me off? Fuck, I’d prefer to be inside her when I come, I’ve been waiting for this moment for two months.
But no, Cat obviously wants me naked. Torturously slowly she starts to pull down my underwear and shorts. Again, I offer assistance by raising my hips. She giggles softly when she realises I’m still in my boots. Once those have been discarded, my legs and ass are bare, and my clothes are on the floor.
Her eyes focus on my cock for a moment as I fail to hide how much I want her. She licks her lips and instructs, “Take off your shirt.”
I obey, curling my abs to sit up and rip that fucker over my head. It’s actually hot that I’m now completely naked, and she’s still clothed. I can’t fucking wait for whatever striptease she has planned, fast or slow, I just need her revealed to my eyes.
Her brow furrowed in concentration, she leans forward and wipes the pearly drop of precum off the tip of my cock. Just the gentle touch of her finger makes me gasp. But she’s hesitant, almost fighting against herself. While I’d love my dick in her mouth, she’s not ready.
“Touch yourself, Cat,” I instruct.
40
Cat…
I hadn’t known how much I’d been poised for bad news, what I’d heard instead hadn’t been a complete clean sheet of results, but the most I could hope for under the circumstances. I knew the doctor was only being cautious, the chances of having a disease that would only show itself many years in the future was simply covering their backs.