Page 52 of Marlin's Faith

Guilt settled around my shoulders, a weighted shawl of sadness mixed with regret. I let out my breath I’d been holding and returned my gaze to the water so I didn’t have to see his face when I took my leap of faith and spoke my truth…

“It hurt thinking I wasn’t worth anything to you. That I was just some sad, pitiful, broken head case that you were trying to help because of guilt, or whatever.”

Again with those gentle, rough fingers tipping my face forward and back to look up at him. Again with those searching blue eyes, so bright with an inner fire that I ached to warm my cold, broken heart against.

“That weren’t ever my truth, but I could see how it could be the one you believed. A misunderstanding, Baby Girl. May have been our first but probably won’t be our last.” He punctuated this statement by bringing his lips down to mine, kissing me gently but firmly, stealing my breath away on the sandy shore.

I ached with such an awful regret for that; for not trying to talk, but the fear was so great that I couldn’t have, even if I had wanted to. I was so tired of being shot down and I was so afraid that it was true, and I didn’t want it to be and it had almost been betternotknowing for sure because then at least I could hold the illusion that it was possible, at least for a short while yet.

Tears spilled along with my explanation and Marlin held me to him, an arm across my back, one hand cradling my head to his chest as he swayed me from side to side, comforting me, calming me as my anxiety had me coming apart.

“It’s okay, Baby Girl, but that’s exactlywhy.Why my brothers will protect you. In our world I’ve as good as gone and made you my Ol’ Lady. That means you’re mine. My property; which I know sounds awful to a citizen like you, but if you give me the chance to finish explaining, I will.”

He searched me out with his eyes, giving me the choice and I shut my mouth and nodded.

“Okay, so there’sthingslike my boat, or my clothes. Then there’s myproperty.That’s a whole other ballgame. For us, we could care less about a boat or a house, or a cage to roll around in. They’re just things. You lose one of them, fuck it,” he shrugged, “You just go buy another or rebuild or do whatever.”

“Okay, and property?” I asked quietly, understanding beginning to dawn.

“I will kill a motherfucker for you. I would lay down my life, my limb, tear my still beating heart out of my fuckin’ chest if it would keep you safe and happy. You’re mine to defend. The only things I won’t give up for you is my club and my bike.”

Again my heart filled to bursting with joy and elation, but I tried to keep enough of a lid on it. I twisted my lips hard to keep from smiling and nodded in what I hoped was a sagely fashion, “You would give up the bike over my dead body,” I said lightly.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, grinning.

“Mm, I like it too much.”

He threw back his head and laughed; a deep, rich and generally overpowering sound that lifted me up even more. He gathered me into his arms and took me off balance, so I had to lean into him to keep from falling. I laughed, and he walked backwards a bit in the direction of Cutter’s house and we kept moving.

“I wouldn’t want you to give up either of those things,” I said after a time.

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Because, I feel safe with you and I think I am beginning to realize, if what you’re saying is true, that it doesn’t stop with you. That I’m safe no matter where I am or where I go because if it’s not you, one of the other men in the club would come, would be there for me.”

He positively glowed with pride, “That’s exactly it, Baby Girl.”

“That’s what Hope’s vest means, isn’t it?” I asked. “It’s like that with her and with Cutter.”

“Yep, that’s exactly what that means.”

“Except Hope can take care of herself,” I frowned with confusion.

“So Hope’s cut isn’t the same as what, say, I would give you. If you wore my rag, and you don’t have to, it would mean a lot to me if you would, but if you’re not ready or okay, then you really don’t got to, I…” I put both of my hands over his mouth and pressed to get him to stop talking, laughing lightly that I could make this big giant of a biker spew such stuttering utter nonsense.

“Stop, just stop!” I cried.

“What would be the difference between mine and my sister’s what did you call it?”

“Cut.”

“Yes, cut, what would be the difference?”

“Yours wouldn’t have the club’s colors. It was put to a special vote and that’s why she got it. She’s Cutter’s Ol’ Lady, but she’s more ‘n that.”

“Colors? You mean the octopus patch?”

It was his turn to laugh, “Kraken, yes, the kraken dragging down the ship.”

---