Chapter 5

CHAPTER

FIVE

Holly

“Mama?” Mina asks as we walk back over to our house along the walkway from my grandparents’. Since it’s raining, I’m glad he created a covered path; the last thing I need is for one of us to get sick because we were exposed to the elements.

She and Ruby are full of excess energy today; apparently, one of the children in their Sunday school class had a birthday and the mom brought in cupcakes for the kids. Sugar. Bouncy kids… yay! Grammy says it worked out well because this week’s lesson was about sharing with others. Unfortunately for me, my girls get a little bit hyper with certain foods; Grammy tells me that there are dyes that it’s been shown to increase hyperactivity in some children. I suspect my girls are in that group and make a mental note to do some research.

“What, baby?” I reply.

“Can we ask Mr. Rebel to come to Thanksgiving at Grammy’s house?”

Her question shocks me so much, I stop walking as I stare at her. “What? Why?” I question.

It’s not like they’ve had a lot of exposure to him, just at the grocery store then at the Halloween festival. He obviously made an impact on my oldest daughter for her to ask if he can come for Thanksgiving, because that’s the day we usually go and find our Christmas tree. It’s an annual tradition that we’ve had since I was a little girl.

“Because me and Ruby like him. Will you ask him?” she probes.

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “I’ll check with him, but Mina, he may have other plans with his brothers in the motorcycle club.”

“Maybe they can come too?” Ruby asks.

“How about we start with me asking Mr. Rebel first, okay?” I finally get out.

Somehow, I think my grammy would do it, but what blows me away is that my daughters want him to come to a family event. While Pappy engages with them and they love him to pieces, they are craving a male connection. Devin made it clear he wasn’t happy that I gave birth to girls. Guess he forgot his basic biology because he was responsible for that fact, not me. I was the incubator, so to speak. In any case, my babies were always begging for his attention which he didn’t give them. That was another reason I was quietly making plans to leave him.

Because my girls deserve better than that and I don’t need them feeling less than.

“You deserve better too, Holl,” my mind whispers. “Maybe Rebel will answer all your unanswered prayers.”

I shake my head at my musings; just because he told me earlier he wanted to go out with me, doesn’t mean he’s picturing a future with me and my girls. While lost in my inner ramblings, we make it to the house and I unlock the door, ushering the three of us inside.

“Okay, Mama. Doesn’t Tiny Sparkles come back soon?” Mina asks.

“What’s today’s date? Go look at the calendar and tell me how many more days,” I tell her, hanging up our jackets.

While she and Ruby go to figure that out, I head into the kitchen, pull out the browned ground beef and set about making a crockpot full of chili. The weather has changed to a colder climate and the feeling in the air is one that is frosty and insistently says, ‘eat warm food’. Both of the girls love my chili, and it’ll let me spend some time with them while doing some of the chores I’ve not done this weekend. I have a mountain of laundry to fold, which isn’t my favorite household task, but it’ll be easier to face after putting on a movie and getting lost in the background noise. I can let the girls match the socks which will make them feel included plus teach them responsibility.

“Eighteen days, Mama,” Mina says in an excited voice as she bounces over to the counter where I’m putting in the last of the ingredients together for our chili.

“Then that’s when she’ll be back.” My remark has them growing peppy as they squeal and jump around on their toes. These are the moments with my girls that I’ll cherish the most in the future when they’re too old to spend time with their mom. Seeing them act like little kids instead of the quiet, almost robotic children they were just a few short months ago brings tears to my eyes.

Devin, I know your mother thought the sun rose and set out of your ass, but you were a bonafide jerk face, not only to me but to these precious girls, I mentally chide. I know he can’t hear me, but goodness, it’s been very freeing to let go in this manner so I don’t blow up around my babies. They don’t deserve that at all, and from now on, they won’t be touched by anything so evil again.

I’m in the middle of doing the monthly invoicing for one of my customers when I hear a knock on my door. Glancing at my phone, I don’t see a text from Grammy saying she wants to stop by so I have no clue who could be here. I save what I’m working on then head to the front door just as I hear another knock.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“Rebel.”

Dang, even through the door his timber does something to me, and I know my face is flushed when I open the door. “Hey,” I say, my voice breathy sounding.

“Hey,” he replies. “I took a chance coming by and I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not really. Just working on some billing for one of my customers,” I explain, opening the door wider. “Come on in.”

He does so and I smell something delicious coming from the bag he’s carrying. “I brought some lunch.”

“Well, you’re in luck because I haven’t eaten yet,” I tease, walking toward my kitchen. “What would you like to drink? I have milk, juice, soda, and lemonade.”

“Soda is fine. I hope you like roast beef and Swiss cheese subs,” he says, sitting at the table.

I quickly grab a regular soda for him and a diet one for me, then fill two glasses with ice. After carrying them to the table, I head to the pantry and pull out a bag of chips plus some napkins since the holder on the table is empty. “Here you go,” I tell him as I hand him some napkins before I place the bag of chips in the middle of the table.

“Thanks,” he replies, handing me one of the sandwiches.

After I unwrap mine, I pick up half and take a bite, unable to help the moan I emit when the flavors hit my taste buds. “Goodness, they make the best subs, don’t they?” I ask once I’ve chewed and swallowed.

“Yeah, they do, but I’m gonna need you to stop moaning like that,” he states, his eyes half lidded.

“What? What do you mean?” I question.

“When you moan like that, I wanna fast track things with you, Holly.” His response has my heart palpitating and butterflies taking flight in my belly.

“I still don’t understand, Rebel.” I do, I’m not dumb, and I remember what it’s like when a man’s interested in you, but I need a minute to collect myself. That, and I need him to spell it out for me. I’m wary of being a notch in somebody's bedpost.

“Holly, I told you yesterday I was interested in you. To break it down further, I want a future with you and your girls.”

“We barely know each other, though!” I exclaim, my nerves getting the best of me, and in reaction my tone is a bit snippy.

“That’s why you have to stop the moaning because it gets me thinking about things I don’t need to think about quite yet. Don’t wanna scare you off, babe.”

I can feel my face heat up as I lower my gaze to avoid his penetrating stare. “Oh. Um, I don’t know what to say to that, to be honest.” I’m stalling. I know I am, but I need the time to gather my thoughts based around this man.

“Nothing to say, Holly. I’m just the type of man not to sugarcoat anything is all. What you see is what you get.”

“Are you trying to sell yourself to me?” I tease. “What’s next? A list of your attributes?” I can’t help the tiny giggle that escapes because in my wildest dreams I never expected that someone like Rebel would be interested in me.

I mean, I’m a single mom of two kids, have only had one prior relationship, and my self-worth definitely took a beating being with Devin. I’ve grown since our relationship ended due to forces that weren’t under my control, but I haven’t had the gumption nor time to contemplate adding another man to our lives.

“Do you need them?” he questions, tilting his head. His tone is serious which has me glancing at him. “Because I can give them to you, and while we’re getting to know each other, show that what I’m telling you is the truth.”

“You can tell me if you want,” I reply, now curious about how he sees himself. “I think you might be putting the cart before the horse since I’ve definitely got some heavy baggage.”

“I can help you unpack all of that, Holly. Okay, let’s see, I was a police officer for twenty years then decided to retire. I’ve always ridden bikes, so some buddies and I decided to start the MC. A few of the brothers still work as cops, paramedics, and firefighters, but those of us who retired run the club businesses.”

“What businesses do you guys own?” I ask.

“The bar, a junkyard, and an auto and bike repair shop,” he says. “I mostly oversee the junkyard, but I’ve been known to turn a wrench at the auto shop as well.”

“A man of many talents, huh?” I taunt.

“You could say that,” he replies, huffing with amusement. “I’ve never been married, and have only been in one serious relationship, but that was about fifteen years ago. I don’t lie because I found during the course of my law enforcement career that honesty is always the best policy. That way, I never have to worry about what lie I’ve said and been told. I’m like a dog with a bone when something doesn’t sound right, I’ll investigate it until there’s no trace of further information to be found.”

I can’t help laughing because I feel the same way, and I’m teaching the girls that always telling the truth is a good quality for a person to have. “The punishment for lying and getting caught is always worse than if you just confess up front. That’s what I’m working on with Mina and Ruby. They get credit for telling me the truth but corrected for the lie because actions have consequences. I know that they’re young, but I’m not one who thinks that little ones can’t learn early.”

Something comes to mind that he said, and I ask, “So you haven’t dated in fifteen years?”

He chuckles which has me blushing because it’s a knowing one and I suspect his response may be one I’m not crazy about hearing. “Well… you know I’m a biker in a club, and while we’re not one percenters, we do have club girls available to us.”

“You mean for sex?” I know I probably sound naive as hell as well as a bit horrified, but my curiosity is winning out. I mean, I love to read and have read a few motorcycle club romances over the years, so while it’s fiction, I figured it had to have some basis in truth.

“Yes.” His answer is short and sweet, but he’s being honest, which is refreshing. “The brothers are always safe and use condoms, while the women who want to be part of the club in that way have implants for birth control purposes. Everyone gets tested regularly as well,” he adds.

Devin always lied even if I saw him with my own two eyes. I could tell him the sky was blue and he’d tell me it wasn’t. Or, he’d say they accidentally took too much from his paycheck, when he worked. But my absolute favorite one was when he took the cash I had been hoarding and then tried to tell me I was mistaken. Truly, if I hadn’t gotten pregnant with Mina, he’d have been out of my life long ago. But I had stars in my eyes and thought I was in love, so I kept on trying. Because I wanted what Grammy and Pappy had; a love so strong that it was palpable. I know they probably had their disagreements from time to time, but whenever that happened, they’d go for a walk around the farm, arm in arm, and talk it out. I never saw him raise his hand to her or treat her disrespectfully in any way, shape, or form.

Taking a deep breath, I look at him even though I know I’m blushing. “Well, while it’s not something I would consider for a lifestyle, I can’t judge them because I don’t walk in their shoes. As long as it’s consensual, what’s the big deal, right?”

My heart is breaking a tiny bit because all I can think about is Rebel with these nameless women. Not that I would expect a man like him to be celibate or anything like that; he exudes virility which is attractive as hell.

“They handle things around the clubhouse, like running our bar, keeping the place clean, being available to the brothers, doing laundry, cooking, that sort of thing for a place to live and a spending allowance. Several are going to school for their GEDs or even a degree, which we encourage and pay for so that they don’t feel stuck in their role at the club. None will ever be a brother’s old lady, because that’s not typically done, but they’re all good women with reasons for why they’re doing what they do. The prospects do the really dirty work, however, until they prove they have what it takes to become a full-patch member in the club.”

“How long does that usually take?” I ask. It’s interesting to see that the fictional worlds I’ve read aren’t too far off from the actual truth.

“A year to eighteen months. We’re not into any illegal shit,” he swears before continuing, “but we still need to know that anyone prospecting has our backs if shit were to ever hit the fan.”

“What could possibly happen?” I question.

“Well, there are clubs in the surrounding areas that aren’t like us, and they’re always interested in expanding their territories. Since many of them are into drug and gun running and we don’t want that sort of pipeline running through here, we make it known that we’ll defend our town and protect our people.”

“Can I thank you for sharing all that? I… I do have an attraction toward you, Rebel, but I’ll be honest, I’m a little bit nervous for several reasons.”

“Will you break it down for me?” he asks.

I take a deep breath because he needs to know just how screwed up my head is thanks to Devin. “I met Devin when we were in middle school. He played on the football team, and I was a cheerleader. Sounds cliche but it’s true. I couldn’t believe that someone like him would want to date someone like me.”

“What does that mean?” There’s a slight growl in his tone which sends shivers coursing through me.

“Devin lived in town with his family while I lived out here in the country. There was a difference between us country kids and the townies as we called them. I got picked on a lot, which my grammy taught me to ignore. Anyhow, we started dating then, as much as two thirteen-year-olds who don’t drive can, that is,” I say, giggling a little, “and even though I thought it wouldn’t last, we stayed together and dated through high school. I got pregnant with Mina right after we graduated, but Pappy wouldn’t give us his permission to get married. Instead, we moved into a guest house on his family’s property.”

He nods his head in understanding, then asks, “And since he died earlier in the year, you probably haven’t dated, right?”

My voice is small when I confess. “No. Between dealing with the girls and having to move, it’s been the last thing on my mind.” Suddenly, I decide to lay it all out for him, since we’re both big on being honest. “Truthfully, I was in the process of telling him I was going to leave. We were engaged by then, but he wasn’t the same man as he was years ago.”

“How so?” he asks, reaching out to take my hand in his.

Outside of my grandparents and the girls hugging me, as well as the occasional hug from Marnie whenever she gets excited about something at work, I don’t have a lot of human touch these days. His is soothing, which eases some of the tension that’s been slowly building in me and gives me the courage to continue.

“It started out with little stuff, like comments about what I was wearing or how I looked, and he always played it off that he was just teasing, you know? But after I had Mina, if he got mad, he might push me down, or throw something. Any time he lost a job, it was because of me, not something he did, of course.”

“Why didn’t you tell your grandparents?” Now, he’s got our fingers laced together, his thumb gently running over the back side of mine.

“I started to tell them a million times, and I think they may have suspected because I stopped wearing short-sleeve shirts to cover up the bruises and fingerprint marks. And sometimes, when he kicked me, he would crack my ribs so I would walk stiffly. When Pappy saw that, he asked what was going on and I told him I tripped over a hay bale in the barn while I was getting feed for the livestock. I was so ashamed, Rebel. I thought I had what my grandparents had, y’know? Only, I didn’t, and once my rose-colored glasses were ripped off when Ruby was born, I started making plans.”

“What happened after Ruby was born, sweetheart?” he softly asks, moving closer to me without ever letting go of my hand.

“That son-of-a-bitch beat the shit out of her because she ‘couldn’t give him what he needed’ then left her lying there on the floor, bleeding and in pain, with a newborn in the bassinet and a toddler in the crib, went out and got drunk before spending the next two weeks with as many women as possible,” my pappy says, his anger emanating through the room. “What I want to know is who in the hell are you and why are you holding Holly’s hand?”

I turn to face the man who raised me and take a deep, cleansing breath. I had to call them that night, and they didn’t understand why I didn’t just leave right then. I should’ve but I couldn’t burden them with a crying newborn as well as a busy toddler, so instead, I started plotting and planning. Before I can say anything, however, Rebel stands and addresses my pappy.