Chapter 5

5

Natalie – Twenty-Four Years Old

I wipe my sweaty palms down the side of my dress as I walk through the halls of Meadow Elementary toward the back exit where I’m parked, trying to calm my beating heart.

I got the job; I actually got the flipping job!

I’ve been out of college for two years, working at Cora’s Day Care Center because no one was hiring an art or English teacher. Finally, all my hard work has paid off.

I’ll be teaching 5th-grade English during the first and second periods, and art the rest of the day.

I got the best of both worlds.

Crap, I actually got the job….

A smile starts to form as I open my bag to grab the keys?—

“Ouch,” I mumble as my forehead slams into the glass door. “Dammit.” I rub my head, silently cursing as I open the door, hoping it doesn’t bruise.

“You’re the clumsiest person I know, Diamond….”

His voice rings out from my memories, but I try to block it and walk to my car, not allowing my “husband” to ruin this day like always. I’ll hear his words, and my heart will ache, bringing me down, and I won’t allow that today.

I’ve spent the past two years of our marriage going through the motions, all while I’ll see him once a month, giving him my body, and I hate myself for doing it, all because I can’t see him with someone else.

Pathetic right?

I unintentionally gave my heart to him, a heart I always thought was closed off; I mean, I didn’t even feel pain when I caught Chris with the step-monster, yet the thought of seeing Piston with someone else….

I shake my head as I throw my bag in the passenger seat and climb into my car. My interview is now in my rearview, and Piston is fully on my mind—as usual.

Damn man….

When I told him I was pregnant, the coldness with which he looked at me will forever haunt me.

It takes two to make a baby, yet he blamed me instantly; I could see it in his eyes, even though he never voiced it.

He immediately stated we were to marry, and I was going to be his old lady, and he didn’t even give me a chance to decline.

Marriage was never in the cards for me. I’ve seen what a man or woman could do just to get their spouse’s attention—heck, I was victimized by it all my life, and yet, Piston forced me into it, threatening to take full custody of the baby if I didn’t.

I actually tried to punch him in the face, but Acid grabbed hold of me while Piston looked on, shocked at my reaction because, sure, every girl wants the patch , right?

Acid had to calm me down before I killed his brother, explaining club laws. If I didn’t marry Piston, then the club would have lawyered up—something about women purposely trying to use children against the brothers to get their way, and Steal can’t change them, not even for Piston.

My left wrist catches my attention as I turn the wheel down Hildon Street toward Hildon Elementary, and my eyes tear up, but I will them away, guilt hitting hard, even after two years.

After a few weeks of marriage to Piston, I went to the clubhouse, and in front of everyone, I lied and claimed my positive test was false, that I wasn’t pregnant. He called me patch chaser, a money-grubbing whore, and said he hated me and wished he never met me—screamed it, actually, in my face.

Things have been uneasy since then. He’s unwilling to speak about it, so I keep my mouth shut, silently hurting, hating that I’m in this mess when all I was doing was trying to protect him….

I groan as I open the driver’s door, my feet killing me.

I’m tired, hungry and very cranky, and quite honestly pissed. Piston is still acting like I planted this baby inside me, even after a few weeks to cool off which, unfortunately for me, he has not.

God, he forced me to marry him without my best friend in attendance. Piston wore his normal jeans and tee, while I was in my waitress uniform.

He didn’t care, said it was nothing to romanticize about, and that he didn’t want this, and I’d forced him into it.

Yeah, like I wanted a baby before finishing college when I have no idea how to even be a mom because I never had one growing up, but he doesn’t know that, does he? Because we decided to keep our relationship strictly sex, no emotions, no talking about the past or the future….

Jackass. If only he sucked in bed.

Shaking my head, I grab my bag and climb out of my car, locking the door, ready for a nice hot shower or something warm because the landlord hasn’t fixed the boiler yet.

Piston bought an apartment, but I refuse to use it. I’ll go there once a month, the agreed-upon date to see him, but that’s it. I also cut up the bank card he gave me.

I don’t want anything from him, just like I didn’t want his cut, even if I fell for him.

Just as I take a step away from my car, someone grips my hair tightly from behind, and I scream loudly as I’m yanked back, and my back hits my car door, knocking the wind out of me. I come face to face with deep green eyes that I recognize but only older.

The man grins, showing his dirty teeth. “I take it you recognize your old man’s father, huh?” he sneers, his breath rancid.

I try not to gag as I notice a knife covered in blood stitched on the left peck of the black leather jacket, the name, The Killers, underneath it. My blood runs cold.

He tilts his head and grips my coat, pulling me forward, then slamming me hard against my car again, then again—four more times, making me scream, my back aching. I cough when he shoves me hard one last time, and panic about my unborn child hits me.

Oh God….

“Listen here, bitch. I won’t say this more than once. I heard about my son making you his old lady. I want you to get all the information on his security details for the club, and I want them by tomorrow. If not, then I’ll slice that pretty little neck open,” he says with the biggest grin.

I swallow hard before looking him in the eyes, then I scream, and I scream loud, making him flinch back, giving me the opportunity to shove him hard and state, “Your son cannot stand me; I’m not even welcome at the clubhouse, so fuck off!”

He goes to grab me, but I scream again, making him step back before I run as fast as I can to the building. I use the passcode and enter before slamming the door behind me, then look out into the parking lot, only to I see the man gone.

I swallow hard as my heart thunders and quickly go to the stairs, hoping to feel safer in my apartment.

A small part of me thinks I should call Piston, but I ignore it. I go up the four flights, and it's only when I have my apartment door locked and bolted that I sigh with relief.

Shaking my head, I throw my keys on the small table near the door, and take off my coat. Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through my stomach, like a period cramp, only ten times worse, and I fall to my knees in shock, holding my stomach.

Oh God!

I blink, trying to breathe through the pain. When it subsides and I go to stand, another pain hits me just as I feel wetness between my legs. I touch my inner thigh, only to see blood coating my hand through my jeans. Pure fear fills me as a sob escapes my throat.

All rational thoughts leave me as I grab my phone from my bag and call Piston, needing him as more wetness gushes, and my tears fall faster.

It rings several times, and another sob escapes when I think he won’t answer until he suddenly does, but it isn’t his voice; instead, it's some woman’s.

“Piston’s phone,” she answers with a giggle.

I swallow hard and croak, “Can I-I speak to Piston, please? It’s urgent.”

The woman snorts. “Sorry, toots. He’s currently busy being entertained by Angel and Desiree, his go-to girls when he wants forget that bitch of a wife who trapped him….”

I hear laughter and chatter in the background before she hangs up, and another sharp pain hits. I sob loudly, bringing up Honey’s number, refusing to allow my hurt to take over.

I need to concentrate on my baby, to save it, not on a man I was forced to marry, a man who doesn’t want me.

Honey answers on the first ring and says in a rush, “I know, I know, I’m late for our girl’s night. I’ll be there in two minutes, I promise.”

I sob, “I-I need you, Honey….”

I lost our baby that night while Piston was busy allowing clubwhores to entertain him. I lost our child after being threatened by his father, who thankfully hasn’t come back, and Piston is none the wiser.

In his head, I used him. I faked my pregnancy to gain his cut and his money, and he hasn’t even noticed the untouched bank account.

He seems to think he’s the only one who didn’t want to settle down; Christ, I dated Chris because I thought he would be easy, that he wouldn’t do what my dad does with Christy, and all he did was screw me over by screwing her, proving relationships just aren’t worth it.

Piston is the one who pursued me, wanting a fuck buddy arrangement, not the other way round. He’s the one who showed up at my door, and now I’m the devil in his world, when all I’m trying to do is get by, day by day, feeling so goddamn empty.

I lost our baby because of his father, and yet I protected him despite him treating me like some pest.

Shaking my head, I pull up in the pickup line and smile as my baby brother runs toward my car.

“Hey, Sissy,” he says as he shuts the door and buckles in.

I smile at him and drive off, asking, “How was school today, bud?”

He hums. “All right, I guess. I got a B in my math test, so that was good, but Poppy tried holding my hand, and everyone started shouting ‘eww cooties!’”

He scrunches his nose in distaste, and I try to hold in my snort.

Oh, to be eight again….

I never knew what I was missing not having a relationship with Cooper; he’s kind, smart, and funny to boot, and I'll never know how his mother and my father’s selfish personalities haven’t rubbed off on him.

He showed up at my door six months ago with a split lip and asked if I was his sister.

I messaged my father for the first time, telling him I had Cooper, and to take his wife away before I killed her.

The bitch hit him because he interrupted her during her phone call, wanting help with a math question, before forcing him to sit out on the porch steps, and apparently, it wasn’t the first time.

Now, I pick him up from school, and sometimes, he’ll spend the night at my place, but other times, I have to take him home, which I hate, but Christy knows not to touch him again.

This is why I haven’t shown my father the video. The first few years, I abstained because I wanted nothing to do with them, and she ensured he’d stay out of my life, but now, it's my insurance, so she doesn’t hurt my brother because, let’s face it, Henry doesn’t care about anyone but himself. However, Cooper has admitted that Henry’s been saying he regrets treating me poorly.

Twenty-four years too late in my book.

“Am I staying at yours tonight, Sissy?” Cooper asks after a few minutes of silence, and I wince.

“Unfortunately not, bud. Henry has plans with you tonight, but tomorrow you can.” I reply, and he sighs, looking out the window, not saying anything else.

I instantly feel bad but stay quiet.

He hates staying at Henry’s, and if I could, I’d take him in full-time, but I know Henry won’t go for it, and I know that using the video won’t work. Step-monster isn’t even aware that I watch Cooper. She believes he’s with a relative to give her a break from failing at being a mother, or so Cooper has explained.

It doesn’t take long before I’m pulling up outside my old home, and Cooper sighs. I turn in my seat and give him a small smile. "Tell Henry I’ll pick you up again tomorrow, and you’ll be staying at my place, alright?”

He nods and unbuckles before leaning forward, kissing my head. “Love you, Sissy.”

I smile and reply, “I love you too, bud,” as he opens the door and climbs out.

I notice my father standing at the edge of the grass, his eyes firmly on me, but I ignore him, put my car into drive, and pull away.

He hasn’t stopped trying to get me to talk to him, and I know he hopes Copper will sway me, but it won’t work.

He treated me like an unwanted child who ruined his life, and allowed his wife to do as she pleased with me.

I was abused for years, and he did nothing.

As far as I’m concerned, my only family is Cooper.

Twenty minutes later, I pull up outside my small, modest, yet comfortable two-bedroom house on the same street as my new workplace. I smile at the light blue building, flowers growing nicely beneath the windows.

Grabbing my bag, I climb out and walk down the path before unlocking the front door. Bluebell instantly starts to move in between my legs, nearly tripping me over, and I grin, picking the cat up before she can get out, and shutting the door. I take in the cream-colored walls, the kitchen and living area combo are separated by a breakfast bar.

I sigh in contentment.

Being able to rent this was a dream come true. After I finished college, I started working more hours at the diner and at the day care, making it possible.

Yes, Piston bought an apartment. Yes, he gave me his card, but I don’t want anything from him, and now, I don’t even think I want his heart anymore.

At the beginning, I did, hopeful we could make things work, that I could put my fears behind me, as he forced this marriage on me, and not by his choice. If anything, though, he’s pulled further away from me.

He sees me as an enemy.

Gone is the carefree man who would joke and laugh with me, and in his place is a bitter man who makes me feel dirty after we have sex, rarely giving me pleasure, only thinking of himself.

Why would I want to be with someone who treats me that way?

A man who would dismiss you as soon as he’s pulled out and come in the condom, not trusting you not to “trap him” again?

The answer is you don’t. I deserve more than what he’s given me.

I deserve respect, if anything.

I know my worth now. I’ve come to learn that I deserve better, and that I deserve to be loved, even if it just means by being by myself with a house full of animals, and my brother.

I deserve to put myself first for once; Piston doesn’t do that.

Heck, I’m his wife, his old lady, and I’m not allowed to use his given name or attend the club’s family BBQs.

Gently, I place Bluebell on the dark blue couch, and she instantly digs her claws into it, stretching, making me push her off.

I wince when she falls, then shake my head. I hang my bag up, and head to the kitchen. I'm happy that I don’t have to see Piston today, as he's going on club business for two weeks, giving me a break from feeling empty and dirty and worthless.

We have three years left, then I’ll divorce him and, hopefully, put together the heart he broke, and whether that will be on my own or with someone else remains to be seen.