“Ew,” he cringes.
“Anyway, who can you call? I’ll drop you off now.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Why can’t I stay home? I’m not a little kid.”
My blood pressure begins to boil, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking him why he can’t act like an adult then. But that will get me nowhere. I take a deep breath and continue.
“I didn’t have a chance to get any food.” Hopefully that, and what I say next will turn him off from wanting to be home. “I guess you could go food shopping while I’m gone. Also, we’re behind on laundry. So, I’ll need you to go to the laundromat.”
“I’ll call Steve and see if I can stay with him,” he agrees when he realizes he’d have to get off his lazy ass and do something.
I’m glad he mentioned Steve because he’s the only one of his friends who isn’t a deadbeat couch-potato. Steve and I dated for a little while after I graduated high school. He’s a great guy, and the breakup was hard, but I don’t have time for myself, let alone a boyfriend. I check the road over my left shoulder to make sure no one is there, then I pull away from the curb in front of the bus stop and start driving in the direction of Steve’s house. He only lives a couple of minutes from here.
“Hey, man. My sister has to go out of town for a few days. Can I stay with you?”
Michael’s voice sounds pained, as though I’m heavily inconveniencing him. Let’s switch lives, Michael, then you’ll know what inconvenience feels like.
I roll my eyes and shake my head as he speaks again.
“She has diner business to tend to in Delaware.”
I knew Steve was going to ask about me. Michael tells me he always does. I wonder if he’ll ever get over me? I hope so because he deserves someone special.
“I have no idea, dude. Can I stay with you or not?”
“Michael, stop being rude,” I command, taking my eyes off the road for a split second to shoot him a warning.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you in a minute.” Michael hangs up the phone.
“Great,” I say. “Thanks for calling him.”
“Steve thinks it’s weird you’re going to Delaware, too,” Michael announces.
“And I think it’s weird that a thirty-two-year-old can’t hold a job for himself.”
That shuts him up, and I immediately feel like a bitch, but I don’t care.
“What the hell were you doing over in Greenmount, anyway?” I demand. “How did you get there, and why couldn’t you find your way back?”
My anger is getting the best of me now, but he pushed me too far. Am I responsible for what happened to the driver? Yes. But was I the reason I was on that road in the first place? No.
Fuck you, Michael.
My blood is boiling.
“You’re not my mother. You don’t need to know.”
That’s it.
I slam on my breaks, and my tires screech across the asphalt.
“You’re right. I’m not your mother, but I’ve been the one taking care of you while you’ve done jack shit for the past ten years. You don’t want to tell me? Fine. You don’t want me to act like your mother? Fantastic, because I’m not doing it anymore. Get the fuck out. You can walk the rest of the way to Steve’s.”
“What?” he challenges, surprised by my outburst.
“You heard me. I’m done taking care of you, Michael. Find a job while I’m gone because when I get home, one of us is moving out, and you’ll have to take care of yourself from now on.”
Silently, I hope I’ll be able to come home soon.
“Sasha, I was joking with you,” he pleads with exasperation.
“No, you weren’t. I’m serious; get the fuck out of my car, Michael.”
The dejected look on his face tugs at my heartstrings slightly, but I can’t bring myself to change my mind. If nothing else, maybe my outburst will get him thinking about the kind of person he should be. Perhaps it will motivate him to want to do better. Either way, I can’t stick around any longer. I need to leave town before the Devil’s Skull finds me.
Chapter Four
Blade
Hawk pulls his van behind the building and parks right outside the service entrance when we return to the clubhouse. I’m not a very religious man, but Iron is. The entire drive from the accident scene to home, I kept a tight grip on his hand and sent a few favors to the man upstairs.
Hawk tears the doors on the back of the van open and wheels the stretcher out. He hasn’t examined him yet, other than checking for a pulse, and I worry about what he’ll find when he finally does.
“What can I do to help?” I ask Hawk as he wheels Iron toward the clubhouse.
The rest of the guys fall into line behind us.
“I can’t be sure until I get a better look at him,” Hawk informs me.
“Well, whatever you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I know how close you and Iron are, Blade. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he’s okay.”
I nod, but that’s the end of the conversation.
Once we get inside, Iron is wheeled into the room that Hawk set up as the infirmary. Hawk then asks everyone other than Stone and me to stay out. He explains that he’ll give them an update as soon as he has a chance to examine Iron.
After Hawk officially patched in, this was the first room he set up, even before his own living quarters. It’s on the first floor of the clubhouse, and it’s the furthest room from the part of the house that leads to The Devil’s Lair. That’s the name of the bar that our Club owns.
The room is separated into two parts and contains both a procedure area and a recovery area. It’s nothing fancy, but it keeps us out of mainstream hospitals, so we make do with the care that Hawk can offer at all costs.
Hawk locks the stretcher into place in the recovery area, which immediately makes me feel better. If he doesn’t need to operate, maybe Iron’s injuries aren’t as severe as I initially thought.
“Here.” Hawk hands me a pair of oddly-shaped scissors. “Cut his clothes from his body, but make sure you don’t move him. I need to get an IV set up.”
“I don’t know if I can, man. I don’t want to fuck anything up,” I explain, looking between Hawk and Stone.
“Blade, you can do this. You asked me what assistance I would need; this is it. Just cut a straight line up his jeans, same with his shirt. We need the clothes to stay behind when we lift him off the stretcher, so cut away anywhere you see clothing wrapped around him. After that, try to move the fabric off his body as much as you can, so I can examine him for injuries.”
Looking at Stone once more, he nods to me.
I take a deep breath as Hawk gathers some additional supplies. Turning my attention to Iron, I begin to cut a straight line up his left pant leg, just like Hawk explained. Then, I do the same on the right side. I’m extra careful when I get to his junk. If Iron does survive this, he’ll never forgive me if I nick a giblet by accident.
“What about his belt?” I inquire.
“Those are Tuff Cuts; they’ll cut through anything. Just give it a snip,” Hawk informs.
I glide the shears under his belt before squeezing, and the leather is no match for the scissors’ blade. Impressed by the strength of them, I continue cutting through the remaining denim around his waist. When his pants are fully cut open, I focus on his shirt. For the first time, I realize how badly torn both his t-shirt and his cut are.