Page 41 of Skid
My stomach grumbled at that exact moment, and I giggled. “Breakfast would make me happy.”
He offered me his elbow and escorted me the fifteen feet to the dining room table before pulling my chair out and helping me push to the table. Walking into the kitchen, he returned with four large to-go containers, two fresh cups of coffee, and a rolled-up shirt.
“Needles grabbed a shirt from the compound for you,” he said, and I held it up in front of me.
Future Property of a Death Houndwas imprinted on the front, and I looked at him with curiosity.
“That way, you don’t have to worry about one of the club brothers hitting on you if I’m not by your side tonight,” he explained as one by one, he opened the containers, showing an assortment of meats, omelets, fruit, pastries, and pancakes.
“It smells delicious,” I said and started to fill my plate with the countless goodies. “And thank you for the shirt. I was wondering what I was going to wear since I have like three outfits.”
“I’ll have Devlin’s wife call you to set up a day to go shopping,” he reasoned with a smile as he sat down next to me at the table.
He’d mentioned Devlin Callahan and his wife, Elise, telling me how close he was with the Callahan brothers and their families. It would be nice to meet both parts of Dalton’s life. I just hoped I didn’t make a fool of myself at his club tonight.
We sat in peaceful silence as we ate our breakfast, and I couldn’t help but sneak glances at him throughout the meal. All too soon, I was pushing my empty plate away and leaning back in the chair as I rubbed my full stomach.
“Would you like anything else?” he asked as he ate the last bite from his plate.
“I couldn’t possibly eat another bite,” I admitted, and he leaned over, kissing me with maple syrup on his lips.
I stood and gathered the dishes from the table, only to have him try and stop me. “I can get this.”
“I’m not used to being so lazy. Please let me help.”
“Okay,” he begrudgingly agreed, “but I don’t expect you to wait on me.”
Most men would be happy with letting a woman take care of them. Cooking, cleaning, and waiting on a man were expectations from my youth that I vowed I’d never do as an adult. There was a difference between doing something because you wanted to and doing something because it’s demanded of you.
Eddie and the two other people who knew what I’d lived through explained that I could choose whatever I wanted in my life, and no ingrained requirements could hold me hostage without my consent. I never understood what they meant until that very moment. I wanted to do for Dalton, and he was appreciative.
That’s when I realized he was for real. Actions spoke louder than words.
After we threw away the empty containers and stored the leftovers in the fridge, Dalton refilled our coffees, then took my hand and led me onto the back porch. To the side was an oversized couch under a small roof and he sat down, patting the cushion next to him. Getting comfortable, I rested my head on his shoulder as he reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a joint.
“A little dessert,” he rationalized as he lit the tip and inhaled.
I chuckled before I took a draw and found myself coughing around the strong, acrid smoke. Handing it back to him, I took a swallow of coffee and felt the burn in my chest subside. Passing it back and forth, we smoked until it was gone, then he tossed the roach into an ashtray.
“Do you smoke often?” I asked him, and he shrugged.
“Define often. Do I stay stoned all day? Fuck no. Do I enjoy a little herb in my downtime to relax me? Hell yes. Do I mind others choosing differently than me? Not at all. I have a few friends who . . . survived some difficult things, and they use it instead of prescription medication. If you need more, let me know,” he replied, and I leaned up, kissing him on the cheek.
Dalton wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him as the sound of the lake filtered through the air. It was different from the river at Eddie’s, but the sound was just as relaxing.
“Why does it seem like you know me better than anyone, and we just met? Like you understand what’s going on in my mind without me having to say it?” I asked, feeling the heavy effects of the last few days, and the strong smoke.
“I’m not a mind reader, Grace, but I understand trauma and the lingering effects it can have on a person’s life. I see that in you, and one day, I hope you can trust me enough to tell me who or what hurt you, so I can send them to hell where they belong.” His voice was soft, but rage tinted his words.
Being with him felt so right, and I feared it was all going to blow up, leaving me more alone than before. Knowing what genuine affection and devotion looked like, or at least what I thought it looked like, I couldn’t go back to my life of solitude. I needed to trust that if I ever told him, it wouldn’t change how he felt about me.
At least, I hoped it didn’t.
I never intended to fall asleep, but the big breakfast and strong weed pulled me into slumber as the sun shined down on the deck, warming the air, and blanketing me in comfort. Dalton’s strong arms gave me the safety to let my guard down, and for the first time in longer than I cared to think about, I dreamed of my future.
