Page 13 of Amy's Santa

“Christ, Amy.” I shake my head. “I didn’t realise…”

She bows her head, placing her hands on her knees and breathing deeply. “Thank fuck you got me out. I was starting to go into a panic attack.”

“No one,” I remind her, sternly, “no one puts a hand on you without your permission. Everyone in there wants a part of you, Amy, it’s for you to decide what you want them to have. Not for them, or anyone to just take.”

“But they’re my family,” she protests. “They should be able to hug me without me freaking out.”

“Tell them,” I say, circling back to my favourite solution. “Amy, just come clean. You can’t go on like this. You’ve got a whole Christmas dinner to get through. You need support. Tell your dad.”

“Tell her dad, what?” I swing around fast to see Heart and the older man called Drummer standing right behind me. Guess Amy’s rapid departure from the clubhouse hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Amy’s slowly walking backward, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes shooting to me, a wealth of pleading in them.

“Amy?” says Heart. “Sweetheart?”

Another woman pushes past Drummer and runs over to Amy, trying to take her in her arms. I stiffen and start to go over, when Drummer puts his hand on my arm, his fingers curling around and digging in. “Sam was that girl’s mom for months. She’ll be fine.”

I shake off his touch, wanting to make sure for myself so I close the distance between us.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Heart’s come up behind me. “’Cause I want to know what’s up with my little girl. Will someone fuckin’ tell me?” His voice is getting loud, and Amy’s shrinking into herself.

Ignoring her dad, I speak to her quietly, “Amy? Your dad wants to know what’s wrong. I think it’s best that they know. Then they can help.” If they can understand. If not, we’ll leave and I’ll take her home. Back to her apartment where I’ve stayed for three months.

Her eyes flick to mine then behind me to where Heart and Drummer stand, arms folded and waiting for someone to give them an explanation. Suddenly she slumps in Sam’s arms. “I can’t,” she insists.

Heart steps forward, he looks like he’s making an effort to control himself, but his voice has become more even. “Whatever it is, Amy, we can sort it. Whatever’s happened won’t cause us to look at you differently. You’re still my daughter and I love you whatever it is.”

I see her back straighten and know she’s making an effort. She pulls away from Sam. “Everyone will be busy in the kitchen,” she tells us with a fake smile. “I’ll go and help.” She almost runs to get away.

When I start to follow her, Heart holds me back. “You and I,” he tells me in a voice that threatens murder should I disagree, “need to talk.”

“My office,” says Drummer. Then he shakes his head. “Well, Wizard’s.”

I’m sandwiched between the two of them as I’m marched back into the clubhouse, Drummer pausing only to shout to the prez that he’s going to borrow his space. He gets a cheerful wave back. Well, it’s Christmas morning and everyone’s in a good mood except for me, Amy, and the two men beside me.

Drummer walks in and sits behind the huge desk with a flag carrying their insignia behind it—the devil with a scythe hovering over three demons. It’s an enlarged image of what they wear on their patch. If I’m honest, even to a big man like myself, it’s intimidating. I don’t need the reminder to remember, these men belong to an outlaw MC. Not the sort of people you’d cross.

Heart points me to a chair in front of the desk and takes a second for himself.

“Like old times,” he says ruefully to Drummer.

“Like old times,” Drummer repeats. Then his eyes sharpen and he gets down to business. “Right, come clean, Xander. We know something’s wrong with Amy. I want to know what it is, and what we can do to help.”

“And if that involves putting you in the ground, I won’t hesitate to do it,” growls Heart.

One look at his face shows he’s making no idle threat, but he’s making it toward the wrong person, what I’ve got to tell them will hopefully redirect his anger.

“You’re fuckin’ my daughter, and she’s clearly not happy. What the fuck is going on, Xander?” Heart’s face is tense.

I press my fingers to my brow, wondering whether it’s my story to tell. But I’ve got to correct at least one assumption. “I’m not fucking her,” I tell him, while wishing I was. If only for her sake, as it would prove her recovery.

Heart’s eyes widen and he exchanges a look with the man behind the desk. “You’re sleeping with her,” he accuses. “The prospect tidying up said you only used one bed.”

Seems like nothing’s a secret here. “Sleeping with her, yes, but not having sex.”

“Is that her problem? You won’t give it up? You fuckin’ gay or something? Not that we give a damn, only as far as it affects Amy.”

I huff a mirthless laugh, then look at her father, and give it to him straight. “I sleep with her so I’m there to help her through her nightmares.”

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