It killed.
Before he lost the fight to hold back, she whispered, “You are never gonna beat my ass at pool.”
That was when he grinned, leaned forward, and wrapped his hand around hers sitting on the bar.
“Get ready to have your ass kicked,” he said softly.
“Oil changes for a year,” she returned softly.
“You got it but cookies for a year,” he shot back.
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she replied.
He’d eat her cookies, they were brilliant or they sucked. If Tabitha Allen made it, he’d eat anything.
Shy didn’t share that.
He gave her hand a squeeze, nabbed the bottle, and took off down the bar toward the cues on the wall.
Tabby followed.
* * *
They were in the dark, in his bed, in his room in the Compound.
Shy was on his back, eyes to the ceiling.
Tabby was three feet away, on her side, her chin was tipped down.
She was obliterated.
Shy wasn’t even slightly drunk.
She’d won four games, he’d won five.
Cookies for a year.
Now, he was winning something else, because tequila didn’t make Tabitha Allen a happy drunk.
It made her a talkative one.
It also made her get past ugly history and trust him with absolutely everything that mattered right now in her world.
“DOA,” she whispered to the bed.
“I know, sugar,” he whispered to the ceiling.
“Where did you hear?” she asked.
“Walkin’ into the Compound, boys just heard and they were taking off.”
“You didn’t come to the hospital.”
He was surprised she’d noticed.
“No. I wasn’t your favorite person. Didn’t think I could help. Went up to Tack and Cherry’s, helped Sheila with the boys,” he told her.
“I know. Ty-Ty told me,” she surprised him again by saying. “That was cool of you to do. They’re a handful. Sheila tries but the only ones who can really handle them are Dad, Tyra, Rush, Big Petey, and me.”
Shy didn’t respond.
“So, uh… thanks,” she finished.
“No problem, honey.”
She fell silent and Shy gave her that.
She broke it.
“Tyra had to cancel all the wedding plans.”
“Yeah?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she answered. “Second time she had to do that. That Elliott guy wasn’t dead when she had to do it for Lanie, but still. Two times. Two weddings. It isn’t worth it. All that planning. All that money…” she pulled in a shaky breath “… not worth it. I’m not doing it again. I’m never getting married.”
At that, Shy rolled to his side, reached out and found her hand lying on the bed.
He curled his hand around hers, held tight and advised, “Don’t say that, baby. You’re twenty-two years old. You got your whole life ahead of you.”
“So did he.”
Fuck, he couldn’t argue that.
He pulled their hands up the bed and shifted slightly closer before he said gently, “If he was in this room right now, sugar, right now, he wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want to hear you say that shit. Dig deep, Tabby. What would he want to hear you say?”
She was silent then he heard her breath hitch before she whispered, “I’d give anything…”
She trailed off and went quiet.
“Baby,” he whispered back.
Her hand jerked and her body slid across the bed to slam into his, her face in his throat, her arm winding around him tight, her voice so raw, it hurt to hear. His own throat was ragged just listening.
“I’d give anything for him to be in this room. Anything. I’d give my hair, and I like my hair. I’d give my car, and Dad fixed that car up for me. I love that car. I’d swim an ocean. I’d walk through arrows. I’d bleed for him to be here.”
She burrowed deeper into him and Shy took a deep breath, pressing closer, giving her his warmth. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tighter as she cried quietly, one hand holding his tight.
He said nothing but listened, eyes closed, heart burning, to the sounds of her grief.
Time slid by and her tears slowly stopped flowing.
Finally, she said softly, “I dreamed a dream.”
“What, sugar?”
“I dreamed a dream,” she repeated.
He tipped his head and put his lips to the top of her hair but he had no reply. He knew it sucked when dreams died. He’d been there. There were no words to say. Nothing made it better except time.
Then she shocked the shit out of him and started singing, her clear, alto voice wrapping around a song he’d never heard before, but its words were gutting, perfect for her, what she had to be feeling, sending that fire in his heart to his throat so high, he would swear he could taste it.
“Les Mis,” she whispered when she was done.
“What?”
“The musical. Les Misérables. Jason took me to go see it. It’s very sad.”
If that was a song from the show, it fucking had to be.
She pressed closer. “I dreamed a dream, Shy.”
“You’ll dream more dreams, baby.”
“I’ll never dream,” she whispered, her voice lost, tragic.
“We’ll get you to a dream, honey,” he promised, pulling her closer.
She pressed in, and he listened as her breath evened out, felt as her body slid into sleep, all the while thinking her hair smelled phenomenal.
Shy turned into her, trapping her little body under his and muttering, “We’ll get you to a dream.”
Tabby held his hand in her sleep.
Shy held her but didn’t sleep.
The sun kissed the sky and Shy’s eyes closed.
When he opened them, she was gone.
Chapter Two
Waking Up in His Arms
Six weeks later…
The bell to my apartment rang and, standing in front of my mirror in the bathroom, I jumped.
Dad and Tyra were there to take me to the hog roast.
It was time, according to Dad, that I got back into life. I wasn’t so sure but Dad was, and when Dad was sure about something, well… you got yourself together and hauled yourself to a hog roast.
I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing my hair out to there, more makeup than I usually wore, a sweet long-sleeved Harley tee I bought just last weekend, the first I’d bought or worn in ages, faded jeans that fit great, and a fabulous belt. I couldn’t see them in the mirror but I also had on high, spike-heeled boots that I usually wore under smart skirts.
Nice.
Stupid!
I looked awesome, so awesome even I could say I looked awesome.
It was still stupid.
The bell rang again and there was a knock following it but I couldn’t move. I just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror, wondering what the hell I was doing.
I heard the door open and I knew Tyra had used her key.
“Tabby, honey, are you here?” I heard her call, and I tried to get my feet to move but I just stood, frozen in front of the mirror. “Tab, you here?” she yelled.
She was closer, moving into my bedroom, I could tell.
My feet finally moved, taking me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
There she was, thick, lush, shining auburn hair and lots of it, great figure even after two kids, Tyra Allen, my friend, my saving grace years ago.
My stepmom.
The instant her green eyes hit me, they got wide and a smile spread on her gorgeous face.
“Wow, honey, you look great.”
See? I looked great.
I was still stupid.
I knew what she saw. For months, I went through the motions of life but I put no effort into it. I got up and went to work, came home, and tried to sleep. I hung with the family and pretended e
verything was fine but they knew it was all a show.
Especially Dad.
Kane Allen, known as Tack to everyone but Dad to me, was far from dumb, which was cool most of the time but wasn’t when I was trying to pull the wool, something which I never, not in my life, succeeded in doing with my Dad.
“I messed up,” I declared and watched Tyra blink.
“Pardon?” she asked.
“I messed up,” I repeated.
“How did you mess up?” she asked.
“I slept with Shy.”
She didn’t blink then. Her eyes got so wide I thought they’d bug out of her head.
She rallied quickly, stuck her hand in her back pocket and pulled out her phone. She jabbed it with her finger and put it to her ear.
“Tack, honey, go on without us,” she said into her phone. “Tabby and I’ll take her car and meet you there later.” She paused, then, “I don’t know yet, but she and I have to talk, and when we get things sorted out, we’ll meet you at Chaos.” Pause, then, “Handsome, I told you, I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out and we’ll sort it out, then we’ll meet you there.” Another pause with an eye roll, then, softer, “I got this, you know I do. We’ll meet you at the roast soon.”
Dad was worried, I could tell. This was not a surprise. He was the kind of dad who loved you so much he hurt when you hurt, and when you lost something precious he lost it right with you.
On that thought, I saw what I saw a lot when Tyra was talking to Dad.
Even though she dipped her chin and turned her head so I got her profile, I still saw Tyra’s face get soft before she said quietly, “Yeah. Will do. Love you.”
Then I saw something else I saw a lot when Tyra was talking to Dad: her face got softer and I knew Dad was telling her he loved her too.
Tyra was the bomb, so I was glad she had that from Dad and I was even more glad that she gave it to him.
She stabbed the screen on her phone, shoved it into her pocket and focused on me.
Then she asked, “You slept with Shy?”
I nodded but clarified, “Six weeks ago, but we slept-slept, not did the business slept.” Her brows went up so I further explained, “See, I was in a situation, he got me out of that situation, I asked him to get me drunk, he did, we played pool, we talked, we ended up in his bed, I sang him a song from Les Mis, then I passed out and woke up in his arms.”
Her head tipped to the side and her eyes grew sharp, and they did this about the time I stated I was in a situation.
As I said, my dad was far from dumb. Being really not dumb, for some reason I didn’t get, he married my mom, who was a lot closer to dumb than anyone I knew. However, being not dumb, Dad got shot of her and didn’t make the same mistake twice. Therefore, Tyra was also far from dumb, which also worked in my favor most of the time.
Sometimes, it did not.
I knew this was one of those times when she queried, “You were in a situation?”
I licked my lip and she watched.
Then she moved to the bed while motioning to it with her hand. “Right, talk to me.”
She sat on the bed, and I sat with her and commenced laying it out.
“Okay, well, what I’m going to say isn’t gonna make you happy but here it is. Six weeks ago I was out with Natalie.”
She bit her lip, her face went blank, and I got this.
Natalie Harbinger had been my best friend since forever. I went to college to be a nurse. Natalie went to the same college as me, but she went to party. She put a lot of effort in and therefore excelled at this endeavor to the point she got kicked out of college. She continued to do this and there was nothing wrong with that, except the longer she did it the iffier became the element she did it with.
People at our age started to grow up and get themselves sorted. If they didn’t, their lives started spiraling down a path that would mean they never got sorted.
Natalie didn’t grow up and get herself sorted.
I got this. Natalie’s mom was arguably a bigger bitch than mine. The problem was, Natalie didn’t have a dad who gave a crap and a stepmom who was the bomb. I understood doing stuff to get attention, even if it was bad attention, but for me that crap was over years ago. She just didn’t seem to be able to pull herself out of it.
Thus Tyra was not a big fan of Natalie’s, and even Dad, who was the president of a motorcycle club and essentially had a life motto of ‘live and let live,’ had issues with her. The short of the long of it was, they didn’t like me hanging with her.
Furthermore, Jason had hated her. Unfortunately, Natalie returned the favor. This put me in the middle, which was not a fun place to be. Jason was the kind of guy who pretty much laid it out if the situation warranted it, and he hated Natalie enough to lay it out. Natalie also wasn’t the kind of person to keep things buried, so she didn’t hesitate to share. This was not comfortable for me, but I was the kind of person who was growing up and getting my life sorted. I was also falling in love so, naturally, rather than making a choice (as such), I started spending less time with her and more time with Jason.
She took the time I could give her without too much bellyaching, and I worked at keeping our friendship close even as it changed with the different paths our lives were taking.
But when Jason died, she’d totally stepped up. She was there for me. She didn’t breathe a word against Jason and kept her other crap separate. It was all about taking my back.
Six weeks ago, I needed her to take my back a different way.
I was tired of no sleep. I was tired of the constant reminders that Jason wasn’t there and never again would be. I was tired of the empty feeling in my stomach that would hollow out further when some memory hit me or a wedding card from someone who hadn’t heard about Jason came through the mail or I got a phone call from someone Tyra didn’t know to contact about something to do with the life Jason and I were going to start.
I needed a release. I needed to go back in time when, for Natalie and me, it was all about fun and music and beer and talking and not about how life could go straight down the toilet.
I needed to forget. I needed to remember when life was different, when it was good.
When things went wrong, I called Shy because he wasn’t like the other guys. He didn’t know Jason and he didn’t like me. I figured, like any of my father’s brothers would do, he’d come get me, get me safe, and that would be it. He wouldn’t look at me with kind eyes, urge me to talk, or give me a gentle lecture about hanging with Natalie, and I didn’t need any of that. In fact, I went out with Nat in the first place to get away from that.
I’d programmed his number in when I got my new phone. I didn’t know why, didn’t think about why, I just did.
What I didn’t expect was that he would give me exactly what I needed, be totally cool about it and also unbelievably sweet.
“Six weeks ago you were out with Natalie,” Tyra prompted, and I focused on her.
“I just needed… I needed…” I trailed off, and Tyra reached out to squeeze my hand.
“I get what you needed,” she said softly then lifted her chin for me to continue, so I did.
“It being Natalie, I’m sure you’re not surprised that our company wasn’t great company.” The look on her face told me she wasn’t surprised, but she had no response, so I kept going. “I was a little freaked, I called Shy, he came and got me, and the rest happened as I told you. The problem is, Shy was awesome, really cool, and I slipped out while he was sleeping and haven’t seen him or talked to him in six weeks, which is not cool.”
“Not sure about the not talking for six weeks part, but Shy is awesome,” she declared, and I blinked.
“You think Shy’s awesome?” I asked in disbelief.
“I do, don’t you?” she asked.
“Uh… I don’t know him very well… or I didn’t,” I evaded.
“True, noticed that,” she murmured. “You’re tight with all the brothers but not Shy. Thought it was because of that h
uge crush you had on him ages ago but, whatever. Bottom line, he’s a good guy.”
Tyra didn’t know about what Shy did to me, no one did. I shared everything with Tyra but not what he’d done. I didn’t even tell Natalie about that, and I shared everything with her too.
That was how much it hurt.
I’d loved him. It was a young, faraway love, but sometimes that was the most intense kind, or it was when you’re young and you love someone from afar. He’d crushed me, so bad I couldn’t even reexperience it by sharing.
So I didn’t.
When I didn’t speak, Tyra did.
“I like him. Your dad likes and respects him. He’s great with your little brothers, he’s actually great with all the brothers’ kids. He’s smart. He’s funny. He works hard and he’s loyal. Your dad says that if Dog or Brick wanted to step down as his lieutenant, he’d ask Shy to step up.”
I stared at her because this shocked me. That was huge coming from Dad.
She kept talking. “Says he’s loyal to the Club in a way that the recruits who didn’t live through what the other brothers lived through when your dad was cleaning up the Club aren’t because they weren’t tested. They don’t know how to be. Shy is, though, according to Tack. Shy’s all about his brothers, the Club, the family, so I’m not surprised he took care of you, Tab. Any of the boys would do that for you, not just for your dad.” She grinned. “Though, not sure any of the boys would put up with you singing a song from Les Mis. That shows your dad is right. Shy’s more loyal than the rest if he put up with that.”
I rolled my eyes.
She ignored my eye roll and asked, “What’d you sing, ‘Master of the House’?”
I rolled my eyes back to her.
“ ‘I Dreamed a Dream,’ ” I answered, and her grin faded.
Dad had never seen Les Misérables. Dad would never see Les Misérables. Dad got a funny look on his face when I told him Jason was taking me to see Les Misérables. To Dad, a man taking his woman to a musical did not say good things. When I told him, he opened his mouth to say something, caught sight of a “smiling-so-big-I-knew-she-was-in-danger-of-laughing Tyra, fortunately shut his mouth, and said no more.