Page 52 of The Biker and the Loner
I sip my tea. “Why? Are you planning to leave the club?”
He merely shrugs in response.
A Club Cat would have cared. The appeal of big, bad, tattooed men in leather straddling a bike is what keeps them around, so I understand why he’d think that. But it was never his MC that drew me in to begin with. It washim. His natural appeal. His voice, his laugh, his eyes, thoselips. The way he used to look at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. I saw him and the attraction was immediate. Intensely so. His motorcycle, tattoos, and leathers had nothing to do with it.
“Well, if you do, keep the Harley,” I tell him. “I love riding with you.”
His brows wiggles suggestively. “What about ridingme?”
Indulging him, I slowly drag my teeth across my lower lip. “That, too.”
~
I'm still hated at work, still gossiped about. I'm still constantly hit on. I still lie that I'm engaged, and the men still don't care. That said, I'm not as bothered by any of it as before. Because I'm on a Scratch high. I'm already missing him, and it’s only been a few hours since I left for work. I already can't wait to see him again.
Heart is overriding Brain and Brain isnothappy about it.
As I hum through my day, ringing up sales and feeling freer than I've ever been, I know it’s time to start thinking about getting my life sorted. Especially now that there's no promise of a trust fund to fall back on. Not that I'm broke or anything...yet. I’ve quite a bit in savings to last me a few years if I'm frugal.
Long before I’d packed a runaway bag, I'd opened a secret account and began squirreling away cash in preparation for the day she decided to cut me off because I dared to defy her.
It's enough savings that I could maybe invest in something. I’d taken this job as a means to keep myself occupied, less lonely and pathetic, and out of that house for as long as I could get away with it. But for the first time in a long time, I’m thinking aboutmore.
I feel alive and inspired. Unburdened and unhurt. Unbridled and capable.
I feel free.
At the endof my shift, I'm changing in the locker room when my phone keeps going off with text messages. I don’t need to look to know it’s Kathy. She has a pattern, and she becomes obsessive and manic when things don’t go her way.
Once I’m done changing out of my uniform, I pick up my phone and lean back against the locker, then take a deep breath before checking the messages.
Mom:Baby I am sorry.
Mom:Please come back home. I did not mean any of what I said.
Mom:I love you and you just make me crazy. You are all I have.
Mom:You cannot leave me.
Mom:Come back and I will give you your trust fund. I am scared for you out there. I do not want you to get hurt.
Mom:Please come home.
Mom:Please baby.
Trust fund—the card she’s been playing for years, the carrot dangled above my head, the thing shethoughtwas making me stay. Of course, she would try to lure me back with it.
On the one hand, I'm worried about leaving her to herself knowing she isn't mentally well. But on the other hand, I need to start giving a damn about my mental well-being, because while she's all I have, I’m not allshehas.
Kathy—Katherine de Glücksbeigch has a full royal family in an unpronounceable country somewhere in Europe. She has living, breathing parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews. All of which I wish I had. If she wants to, she can survive without me, just as I will now have to learn to survive without her.
I delete her messages and pull up Scratch's name instead.
Me:My shift just ended. I'm leaving now. I'm going to see a friend, so I’ll be home late. Have you eaten?
Scratch:NOT SINCE BREAKFAST. BEEN BUSY. WHAT FRIEND?
Me:I’ll pick something up and take it to you first then. What do you feel like eating?
