SAVING REBEL: Renegade Rebels Motorcycle Club (8 page)

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As I rummaged around in Mason’s fridge for something to cook for dinner, I was surprised by the fact that he had nothing in there but more steaks and a few vegetables, a case of beer and a gallon of milk.  

A perpetual bachelor.

A perpetual, bad-ass, devastatingly handsome bachelor, that is.

I had been thinking about him all day.  From the moment he left me alone in his house this morning, to right now, I had been consumed with thoughts of him.  He had been so sweet at breakfast, grateful to have someone cook for him, and I was grateful to do it.

After drinking so much last night, I felt like a fool for coming on to him so hard.  But the fact that he had kissed me back with such ferociousness was not lost on me.  It was obvious he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.  It was his loyalty to Harley that was getting in the way.  

I wondered aloud over our eggs and bacon this morning if Mason was going to talk to Harley about me today.  He said he was, and I was curious to hear how the conversation went.  Mason said he would be back by six-thirty and it was almost seven now.

I started the grill and put the steaks on right as he walked in the door.  As soon as I saw the look on his face, I knew things didn’t go well.

“Dare I even ask?” I said, as he walked straight to the fridge to retrieve a beer before even saying hello.

“No, probably not,” he muttered.

“Okay,” I said, quietly, not sure how to proceed with the conversation.  Mason had always been the quiet type and that was about the only way he hadn’t changed in the last several years.

I continued preparing dinner as he sat on the deck watching me, quietly downing his beer and then getting up for another one before returning to continue watching me.  

I was a little self-conscious about it, but I had to admit, I liked it too.  He was brooding, obviously, but his eyes trailed along with my every movement and I periodically looked over at him, flashing him a smile that he left unreturned.

I didn’t know what to think, but I knew better than to question him.  He would tell me more in his own time.

When he got up for a third beer, I decided to join him.

“That looks good, can I have one too?”

“Sure,” he muttered as he slithered past me into the kitchen.

It was still light out, the summer heat lingering in the air as we silently drank our beers while we waited for the steaks to cook.

“What did you do today?” he asked me.

“Oh.  Um…not much.”  I suddenly felt like a bum.  I should have gone out and looked for a place to live or a job, now that I had Harley’s cash to help me out.  But it’s hard to find a place to live if you don’t have a job.  And Mason had told me to stay put anyway.

“Looks like you cleaned my house.”  

“Oh, that. Yeah, it was no big deal.”  I had straightened up a little as I was nosing around his house, looking at all his things.  But it hadn’t seemed like work at all.

“Thank you, that was nice of you.  And thanks for starting dinner, too.  I’m starved.”

“Yeah? Long day?”

“You could say that.  There’s a lot of heavy shit going down with the club.”

“Oh.”  Heavy club shit.  I was familiar with heavy club shit.  My father had always been talking about it, always worried about whatever was going on at the time, and I sensed the familiar tension in Mason now.

“Yeah.” I knew he couldn’t talk about it, so I didn’t ask.

“So, what do you wanna do tonight?”  I asked, trying to change the subject.  But when I looked into his eyes, I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

Neither one of us could do what we wanted to do tonight.  At least I knew the fire was still there, burning under the surface.  I was amazed at Mason’s restraint, and honestly a whole lot annoyed at it, as well.  

Once again, I found myself cursing Harley for getting in the way of what could easily develop between Mason and I.  If the three of us would let it, that is.

I sighed, understanding why he wasn’t answering the question, and turned my attention back to the steaks.

When dinner was ready, we settled in to eat, and once again, our conversation turned to the shared memories that filled both of our heads.

“Do you remember that time you got caught throwing apples at the cars?” he asked.

“Of course I do. I was so scared when the cops showed up, that I almost peed my pants.”

“Did you know Harley and I got in trouble for the exact same thing when you were a baby?”

“What? No way!  My parents acted like it was the worst thing in the world.  If they had already dealt with it, you’d think they would have been prepared.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing, Rebel.”

“What?”

“It’s you.  Nobody expects you to do anything wrong, no matter how much wrong you do.  It’s like everything bounces off of you, and people forget you were ever in trouble with one look at that innocent face of yours.”

I thought about what he said for a moment, and wondered if it was true.  It didn’t feel that way for me.  

“Well, then why is that every time something bad went wrong, they seemed to blame me, even if it wasn’t my fault?”

“Well, I think that’s your twelve-year old brain talking.  If you really think back on it, you’ll see that you were the kid that everyone had high hopes for.  Perhaps they just had such high expectations for you that you felt a lot of pressure to do everything exactly right?”

“Yeah, maybe…” 

“I’m so sorry everything blew up with your family.  I know you were dealt a really shitty hand.”

“You have no idea…”  Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away, determined that Mason wouldn’t see me cry.  Crying was something I only did alone, because I couldn’t afford to have anyone thinking I was weak.

“No?”  he asked gently.

“I hated the foster home. They were awful.  Every kind of awful you can imagine, that’s what they dished out for me there.”

His eyes darkened when he realized what I was saying.

“Every kind of awful?  I can imagine some pretty fucking awful stuff, Reb.”

“Every kind.”  I replied in a whisper, turning my eyes away from him.  I didn’t like thinking about it, and in the last year away from the bastards, I had done a really good job of avoiding all thoughts of them.

“Fuck.” Mason’s eyes filled with anger.  “Rebel, I’m so fucking sorry that happened to you.”

“Whatever, it is what it is.  I tried to escape several times, but I guess I wasn’t good enough at it.  They kept finding me and sending me back.”

“Rebel.” 

I looked everywhere, but in his eyes.

“Rebel.  Look at me.”

I didn’t want to.  I didn’t want to see his kindness. I didn’t want to see the gentle, protective look in his eyes.  It would break me.  And the last thing I wanted was to break down in front of him.  I had already made a fool of myself a few times, and I didn’t have any desire to do it again.

But I looked at him.  I knew he wouldn’t stop till I did.

And there it all was.  Everything I didn’t want to see.  Everything I couldn’t afford to see, because I knew it would break my heart open, and if that happened, then Mason would seep in and I would never be able to banish him. 

And that’s exactly what happened.

“It’s not your fault, Rebel.”

I sighed, nodding through the stupid tears flowing down my face, his eyes holding mine, not letting me look away, and then before I knew it he was across the table, pulling me into his arms, and holding me against his warm chest and stroking my hair as I sobbed against his cut.

“Shh…it’s okay, it’s okay.  It’s not your fault.  None of this is your fault, baby girl.  Everything is going to be okay, I promise,”  he whispered in my ear, his voice soothing something so deep and abandoned inside of me that I didn’t even know it needed soothing.  

“Come on, now, let it all out.  It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby girl.”

He held me for several long moments, then pulling back, he wiped the tears from my eyes, and gently kissed my quivering lips. 

“I promise, Rebel.  Everything is going to be just fine,” he said, wiping the tears as they continued to fall uncontrollably.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him, never wanting to leave his embrace.

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Holding Rebel in my arms as she cried was excruciatingly painful.  I couldn’t help but want to save her, do something, anything, to make her feel better, to make the tears stop.

She was so fucking beautiful and it was killing me watching her go through such a rough time.  I wanted to kill her foster parents for making things even worse for her than they had to be.

But, as I held her in my arms as she sobbed last night, I knew I had to get her out of my house as fast as possible.  

I was falling for her hard, and as much as I tried to control it, every time I looked at her, I felt like I was losing the grip I had on my self-control more and more. 

It wasn’t just that she was hurt.  It wasn’t just that I wanted to save her.  It was her strength.  They way she jutted her chin out when she talked about her past as if it didn’t hurt her.  The way she sucked up the pain and flashed her pretty smile like she wasn’t dying inside from all the confusion and uncertainty that came with being nineteen and all alone in the world.

Only she wasn’t alone.  She had me.  She had Harley.  And as much as Harley obviously wanted nothing to do with her, it was time he stepped up and took care of her.

Before I did something we would all regret.

As I knocked on Harley’s office door the next day, I took a deep breath, summoned up as much courage as I could, turned the doorknob and walked in.

He was in even worse shape today than yesterday.

Clearly, he had already had a few drinks, and the smell of pot filled the air.  I wasn’t sure if that was going to work in my favor or not.  But I was determined to tell him the truth about Rebel, no matter what.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice already slurred at noon.

“Rebel is at my house.”  There, I said it.  My dad had taught me that it was best to just get it over with when you had something hard to say.  I should have remembered that yesterday.

It was times like this that I missed my father’s guidance.  I wished I could just walk up behind him while he was working on a bike, quietly ask to talk to him, and feel his warmth and concern just one more time.  He had always been there for me, the complete opposite of Harley and Rebel’s dad, who never seemed to have time for them.  My dad and I were close, and after he died, I decided I wanted to continue his legacy.  I prospected with the club for a short while, and was honored when they offered me the same position as my father.  It helped that Harley was the president and my best friend.  Although, by the look on Harley’s face at the moment, a stranger would think we were enemies.