Page 6 of Stone
When we’re out in public together, I wear it on my ring finger, not wanting to bring a bad name to the club. Otherwise, it goes on my right hand because, I am still fucking married, much to my dismay.
“We need to get our judge to sign off on your divorce,” Trigger mutters, the first time he’s spoken since we basically ganged up on him, and I hum and remind him, “Then my dad and hers will lose it.”
“You can’t stay married for your dad and his friendship, Stone,” Tank says, and I give him a sad smile because I know he’s right. I just can’t fucking change it.
Doc bangs the gavel, getting everyone’s attention, and states, “Church dismissed, Stone stay behind,” and everyone nods before leaving, and as soon as the door shuts, he turns to me and demands, “Free yourself of her brother, your dad will understand.”
“He won’t,” I instantly deny, “The last time I brought up divorcing her, he threatened to get a club vote to kick me out,” I sigh, “I think he fucked her mama, and her dad found out and is threatening to tell my mama.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me, but brother, you are fucking miserable, have been for years. Just think about freeing yourself, yeah, you may find the one for you,” he says lowly, and I snortas I stand and state, “I'd better get to the club, I’ll let you know what I find.”
He sighs but nods, and I turn and walk towards the door, ready to get this shit over with.
I understand where he’s coming from, I do, but my dad has asked this of me, and he again knows where I’m coming from.
His dad, Canine, wants him to marry the senator's daughter after she took a shine to him. If he does that, we’ll get the senator's backing, and even though Doc is now the president, like me, he respects his dad and is actually considering it.
I just have to live with this, and besides, he’s wrong. I won’t meet the one, she doesn’t exist.
Chapter 2
Rose – Twenty Three Years Old
I smile gently at the five-year-old shaking on the bed as I gently rub along his hand, trying to find a good enough vein that it won’t hurt as much.
“It’s going to hurt,” he trembles, his bottom lip trembling, and my heart bleeds for him.
He broke a bone in his ankle at school while jumping off the jungle gym, and it needs pinning. Meaning I need to insert an IV, which is not very nice, especially to a little boy.
“Joshy, she’ll be extremely gentle, baby,” his mama tries to soothe as she runs her fingers through his sandy blonde hair, but his deep brown eyes brim with tears.
“I promise, I won’t let it hurt,” I say, then ask, “Remember that magic cream I put on?” he nods, “Well, that will make sure you don’t feel it, okay?”
He sniffles as a few tears spill, but he nods, and as carefully as I can, I insert the needle. He doesn’t look away. He frowns deeply, making me smile because clearly he didn’t feel it, and I quickly wrap his hand and state, “There, all done,” as I stand, and he grins, his tears now gone.
I hate it when they cry.
“Thank you,” he whispers, and I grin at him before winking at his relieved mama. I leave them to it, knowing the doctor already spoke to them.
I love my job, absolutely love it, and even though I wanted to be a pediatric cardio nurse, working here, it gives me joy, and I have to admit, I don’t know if I want to follow through with my plans.
I’ve been at Wincher hospital for a year now and I feel at home here.
Walking over to the nurse's desk, I place Josh’s file on top before a hand grabs my arm, and I gasp as I’m spun before I lock eyes with my best friend, and I raise a brow and ask, “Shouldn’t you be in the ER?”
She waves her perfect manicured hand at me and says, “Yeah, yeah, I know, but I needed to find you and speak to you in person so you can’t back out.”
I furrow my brows in confusion and ask, “Back out of what?” as she looks at my purple scrubs.
“Why can’t ER staff have purple scrubs too?” she mumbles, and I roll my eyes, then snap my fingers in her face and say, “Focus, Donna,” and she pouts.
I roll my eyes again, and I swear I do this twenty times a day. I remind her, “Because I work with kids, and you don’t like it when kids come in hurt, now, back out of what?”
She blinks, then shakes her head, remembering why she came up here to begin with, and says, “Tonight, you and I are goingto the Rebels’ Phoenix club,” and I’m already shaking my head because nope, no, not happening.
I like movie nights and pajamas, stuffing my face with junk food, not clubbing with loud, rowdy people, and men who think it’s alright to grope you all because you wore a little dress.
Okay, I sound really freaking old and jaded…
