Page 1 of Ours

Prologue

Gabriella

Sometimes you’ve got to walk through fire to get burnt—to only go on and heal from those burns, for those burns to then turn into scars, and from this you learn not to walk through similar situations. But still sometimes you get burnt twice before you truly learn.

When it came to Hudson St James, the burns that I received from our relationship, weren’t surface deep. He cut me to pieces, my heart basically dying, the moment he ended things. I still don’t know how I picked up the pieces. I still don’t know how I moved on. Then again, maybe I didn’t really. Because the only way I knew how to cope, were pills—and the drugs, relieved me from the pain.

Before I know it, I’m in deep into a lifestyle that I once looked down on. My father never gave up on me. Putting me through rehab after each relapse. The relapses got worse, as my addiction battle goes on. Every time I fall that bit further, and push my bodies limit that bit more.

My father had to watch me from afar as I tormented my body with poison and to be honest with myself, I was hoping that one day, I’d give my body the final push over the edge. I didn’t care about the future. I just cared about my next high. Didn’t give two fucks, if I wasn’t breathing after the high wore off.

Then the high would wear off, and I wasn’t dead, so then it was, how would I get another high. An endless deadly circle. I wasn’t living, I was just trying to… hell live wasn’t a word.

I wasn’t living, I was numbing every part of my body. Then it’s one overdose that changed everything. I pushed my heart to the limit, and I had a heart attack. The doctors, surgeons, nurses that night, and the days to follow—didn’t know I was an addict. After all I was using prescription medication, and sometimes not all mine, but there was no track marks or signs of abuse on my blood work.

It’s the fifteenth of December, right before Christmas, that I have a heart attack. And I die.

But lucky for me, I was given another heart. There was a car accident that night, the organ donor gave me a second chance at life.

My father knows the truth, held my hand the whole recovery process. Never sharing or revealing my guilty secret. That I was a pill popper.

I was given a second chance at life. So, I stopped getting prescriptions filled. Insisted on my father coming to every doctor’s appointment, so I didn’t ask for pills.

He came to everyone, and every time we walked out, prescription free, he’d give me this smile—a mind blowing proud grin, and then told me ‘Ain’t no one braver than you, teacup.’ Then we don’t mention it again, till the next doctor’s appointment.

I’m twenty five, and two years sober from pill popping—and my father stills comes to my every doctor’s appointment, because I still don’t trust myself.

I’m known as a hippy now. I turned to alternative ways for everything, for pain, stomach aches, everything. But only brewed potions. I won’t take a vitamin. It reminds me of pills, brings back days I want to forget.

I stopped living, because I didn’t want to feel and now I was living to feel… until… he came back.

1

Hudson

Ilive life, like I ride my motorcycle—fast, and don’t give two fucking shits about the shit I pass, or the fucking people I leave behind me. You just keep riding, surviving, and hoping that you don’t come off. Cause fuck knows, life tries to throws things at you, hoping that it takes you to the asphalt.

Still even with that attitude. I had regrets. I was human, wasn’t a fucking machine. I had one main regret, but ain’t shit I can do about the past. So I forced myself to be focused on the present. Even though being in her town currently, wasn’t helping.

Being National President meant I didn’t get involved much with charters or the chapters within those charters. Usually stuck to ever Charter apart from the North—because of her.

I pushed the clubhouse door open, scanning the overfilled clubhouse. Women were dancing, the smell of liquor, weed and the odd cigar was thick in the air. The men were laughing, and I knew I’d be doing the same, if I hadn’t rode four fucking hours. My ass hurt, my fingers were numb and I had a headache forming. I cracked my neck, walking for the bar. Needed a drink, and knowing I had a four hour ride back—meant fucking water not beer. Anyway—it was a known fact that I wasn’t welcomed at the mother chapter. Even though they answered to me, and yeah, when it came down to it—I didn’t have to respect Chief’s wishes, nor did I have to really listen to anyone but the Founders Son, that being King.

Even King and I had a very simple understanding, I didn’t have to answer to him and he didn’t expect me to rein in my madness that was my temper.

I tapped the bar, waiting for the prospect.

Then I heard the clubhouse door open again, and I glanced up, freezing—deadly type of still. Fuck I don’t think I breathed for a few moments.

Her hair was free down over her breasts, the dress itself wasn’t eye catching. What was though, was the shape of her body. And the dress did highlight that. She always had a body you’d want to worship. It’s the full bloom smile on her face, that just is a sucker punch to the guts.

“I fucking did it!” The man next to her, who currently had his tattooed hand on her hip, yelled in the club. And the club went silent, someone even turned the music down.

My eyes ran over her ivory skin, which always looked like it glowed against her raven black hair.

She grinning, and everyone is looking at them.

“She said fucking yes!” The man shouted and pushes her hand in the air and I fucking saw it. An engagement ring.

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