Burnt (29 page)

Lou the crazy bitch is practically skipping down the aisle. She throws a flirty wink at Steel who has a shit eating grin on his face. I don’t need to be a fucking mind reader to work out what those two will be doing later. Taking their spots across from us, Ryan Adams ‘Desire’, Kendall’s favourite song starts up. And then, rounding the sea of people, taking her first step to becoming mine forever, my beautiful woman takes her first look at me standing there waiting for her.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight of her. Her long brown hair is flowing down her back in soft waves with a lily tucked behind her left ear, and her dress is fucking gorgeous. She takes my breath away. Strapless, and curving just above her tits, the bodice is beaded and fitted from the top to the bottom, ending just above her tiny little feet that are encased in ivory embroidered ankle boots. My woman won’t be seen wearing anythin else. The fabric is slinky and moves like water with her body, fitting every curve like it was custom made for her. Kendall didn’t want a white dress. It wasn’t because I had just relieved her of her V-card status either. No. My woman says white isn’t her colour, and bought an ivory one instead much to her mom’s distaste. Brenna really wanted her baby girl in white.

Locking eyes with me, Kendall gifts me with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen, picking up the pace, and practically dragging Priest down the aisle with her. Chuckling at her impatience Priest moves with, her reaching me in record time. Priest places her hand in mine, and I can’t help myself, I have to have a taste. Just a little taste to tide me over. Leaning in close, I give her a wet, slow kiss, only breaking it when the preacher clears his throat loudly, and cheers go up from the crowd of people watching us.

I could give a fuck that almost one hundred and twenty people just watch me kiss my woman dizzy, I’m beyond fucking happy Kendall and I finally got to this place at all. Beginning the ceremony, the preacher, a local church minister that didn’t want to come out to the compound, but for enough cash Priest got him here starts speaking about the sanctity of marriage, partnership, and devotion. Getting to the part where we repeat our vows, my heart starts beating harder than ever. I haven’t seen, or heard Kendall’s vows yet, but writing mine was simple. There’s no secret how I feel about her, and I’m only too happy to tell the whole fucking world.

Facing her, and holding both her tiny hands in mine is symbolic. My right hand is to protect and cherish her. It shows my need for her to be taken care of, and shown every day how much I love her. The preacher signals for me to start, so I don’t waste a second.

“Kendall, I told you once you were made for me, and that’s never changed. You make me want to be a better man, stronger, worthy of everything you are. There’s no one I would give my whole heart, body, and soul to that isn’t you. I promise you, you have all of me, yesterday, today, tomorrow, and every day for the rest of our lives. I fell in love with you when I was nine, under this very tree, and I’ve loved you every day since, and will every day in the future. I love you, Baby. You put me back together.”

Tears leak from her eyes, and I reach up to thumb them away, kissing the back of each of her hands. She turns to our guests and shrugs,

“Well, that makes my vows look like crap now, doesn’t it?” Everyone laughs, and waits for her to begin. Kendall turns back to me with a wink. “I dreamed of a man that was fierce, strong, funny, and loved like there was nothing else he was put on Earth to do, I got you, so I suppose I can make do.” People laughs again, and even the preacher has a smile on his face now. “I promise not to iron your Jeans,” Lou giggles at that, “I promise not to uncover the bodies in the backyard, and bust your balls for digging up my garden. I promise not to hide your keys, and laugh when you search the house cursing, because I know how you hate that.” Now it’s my turn to chuckle. “I promise not to tell you when you turn grey, I’ll call it chrome instead. I promise to ride you as hard as you ride your Harley, and twice as often.” Priest groans, and Brenna gasps letting out a little giggle afterwards. “And most of all, I promise to give you love, magic, and mini Dec’s as often as humanly possible. I love you, Dec. You’re mine.”

Grabbing her I don’t wait. I crush her mouth to mine and spear my tongue into the wet recesses of her mouth, clutching at her ass, practically dry humping her in front of everyone. Pushing at my chest, Kendall takes a step back and gives me a shaky smile. Finally, we get to exchange rings, and then the preacher pronounces us man and wife. Dad yells out louder than anyone else, breaking through the cheers and claps.

“Fucking finally. I thought the boy was fucking slow in the head for a minute there.” A new round of applause breaks out, the only thing I can focus on is my gorgeous wife and her phenomenal mouth.

Then it happened…

That thing we didn’t know was coming. The thing that would change us, all of us. Two shots rang out… One hit true. One, the one that was intended for my wife, did not.

She slumped to the ground, blood pouring from the wound in her back that I was sure had gone straight through, exiting her chest. She’s pale, motionless. With a bellow I charge through the people swarming around, carelessly, necessarily shoving them out the way. I’m singularly focused. I have one goal, and that’s getting to HER.

Crashing to my knees, as gently as I can scoop her into my arms, careful not to disrupt her wound, and cause her unnecessary pain. She’s been through enough of that because of me already.

I can’t explain the fear, the devastation I feel that she’ll leave me again. I may not have her back in my life just yet, but she’s alive, she’s here, and she didn’t leave when she knew I was here. That gives me hope. The first glimmer of hope I’ve had in years. I want, no, I NEED, her in my life. She’s the most important person I have ever, and will ever know. I could feel that deep in the marrow of my bones. I know that she’s was crucial to my survival. If she… I refuse to think like that. She won’t die. She can’t. I won’t allow it.

Voices start to penetrate my foggy haze, Priest crouches down next to us telling me,

“Paramedics are on the way Arrow, they’ll be hear in less than five.” He’s never called me Arrow. If he does it’s because he’s fucking pissed, or in this case because he can feel the pain, and anger rolling off me like the heat of the road on a hundred degree day.

I don’t reply, because I can’t do that either. I can’t do much of anything. Realising I’ve failed her again, is akin to a knife twisting deep between my ribs. The searing burn in my chest, the pounding in my head. That pain will be nothing in comparison to what I’ll feel if I lose the woman currently lying limp in my arms.

At some point, I’m not lucid enough to know when, Tank comes over pressing a t-shirt to her chest, offering support in the form of silence.

Everyone assumes I don’t talk, that I’m basically mute. In some ways I am. What they don’t know is, I do. I just only do it with Tank. Ironic really. The man they don’t think can open up to anyone, talking to the man that’s outwardly vocal, but internalises more than anyone else I’ve ever known. Tank puts on a fucking amazing front. He’s was like a Tiger, crouching slowly, quietly, patiently, in hiding. Waiting, but always ready to attack. I thank fuck he’s built that way after today.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered it was Tank that shot Isabella between the eyes. He may have ended her life, but possibly in doing so, saved more than one person, more than one soul along the way. The only thing that worries me is that Lexi was present when it all went down. He was a second too late. Only a second. A breath. An infinitesimally small fraction of time, but one that has the biggest impact in my life to date. Would I hold it against him? Would I blame him for his second of pause? If she passed, I can’t see myself doing anything but.

Kissing her forehead I inch closer to her ear. I don’t know if she can hear me, if she’s already unconscious, but it doesn’t matter, I need to tell her she has to fight.

“You stay with me Ronnie. You hear me, Baby? Stay with me. Help’s coming. Just stay with me. I need you, Baby. Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” My voice is hoarse, the words are practically ripped from my throat, my heart, my soul, and they burn as I say them. She has to survive. She has to.

Veronica saved Kendall’s life by throwing herself in front of a bullet to insure her friend got to live her dream with Cage. It was stupid. It tore my heart out. But, at the same time it was beautiful. A selfless gesture, from one friend to another. Veronica has solidified her life-long adoration by Devil’s Spawn MC. A never ending gratitude from Cage, Kendall’s parents’, even little Lexi who will be forever grateful when she’s old enough to process the gravity of what Veronica’s done.

None of that matters right now, none of it. I watch her face, her eyes flutter, and she looks as if she’s desperately trying to open them, but they’re too heavy. Eventually winning that small battle, Ronnie stares straight into my eyes, and blinks as if to make sure she’s really seeing what she thinks she is. In whispered words that I will keep with me for a lifetime, plus a day, she says almost too softly for me to hear,

“That was supposed to be us. I’m so sorry it wasn’t us Nate.”

I knew what she means, and it tears at me like the flesh is being ripped from my bones, stripped from my body. I’m bleeding out with her. It just isn’t visible to the human eye. It’s then she’s taken from me. I don’t register who’s taking her, I just know they can’t. No one will take her from me again. I struggle, I try to keep her with me, but it isn’t until Pipe shakes me that I see I’m doing her more harm than good holding her back.

“Son, you’ve got to let them do their jobs. They’ve got to take her now, boy. I promise, they’re gonna take good care of your girl, yeah?” The paramedics are putting her on a stretcher, compacting gauze on her wound, packing it, hopefully containing her life blood, her essence. I pray with everything I have in me that they are saving her.

Slowly, as the sirens fade, peoples cry’s, wails, and women’s sobs reach my ears. Looking toward Kendall and Cage from my place on the ground, I can see the shock, the despair, and the sorrow on Kendall’s face. I can see recognition too. The recognition her friend, a woman she’s only known for eighteen months, her guardian angel has done something so inexplicably heroic, it’s barely to be believed. Cage’s pain is written all over him. In the way he holds himself, the muscles that are tense, his body is coiled tight, Cage’s horror at the situation is apparent. The realisation that the woman he’s coveted, the woman he’s believed was destined to be his since birth, his wife, was nearly killed has shaken him to the core. It doesn’t touch me though. I can’t absorb their fear, and horror along with my own. There isn’t enough space for it. I’m already overflowing. I know I can’t contain any more.

Tank rips me from my thoughts hauling me off the ground, putting me roughly on my unsteady feet. Covered in blood, her blood, I stand and focus on staying upright. It’s all I can manage right now.

“Brother, we’ve got to head to the hospital. Can you ride?” Can I ride? Fuck no. There’s no way I can keep my bike vertical if I’m struggling to do that with my own body. Shaking my head, he nods at me. “Didn’t think so man. We’ll take the cage. Do you want to change before we head out?” Should I change? Definitely. Would I? No. It might be morbid, but all I have of her right now is the blood that’s soaked through my shirt, my jeans, and is covering my cut. Tank seems to understand my train of thought. “It’s okay, brother. I wouldn’t either. Let’s get you to your woman.” Tugging on my arm to get me moving, we head to the cage we use when one of us were unable to ride.

I’m scared. No. I’m terrified of what I’ll find when I get to the hospital. A small part of me doesn’t even want to go. I don’t think I can hear the news if they tell me she’s gone. I won’t be able to cope with it. I’ll go though. For her I’ll battle through it. There’s nothing I won’t do for her. Now’s my chance to prove it.

A long line of bikes rev their engines, riders sombre, and passengers, reflective. They follow Tank and I, in the cage, and I hate it. I hate that it feels like we’re in a funeral procession. I hate that we have to do this at all. It should never have happened. It should never have been ALLOWED to happen. Veronica paid the price for something she had never been involved in. Something she probably doesn’t even know about.

I tried to conjure understanding for Cage, how guilty he’ll be feeling because someone’s hurt because of his ex-wife. The understanding never comes. It possibly never will. Isabella should have been put to ground years ago. Because she wasn’t, Ronnie may have to pay the ultimate price.

There’s no retribution to be had. No vengeance to seek. No person to break, for breaking Veronica. Tank made sure of that. While that thought should be calming, it isn’t. It makes the rage I feel for her pain, her unnecessary suffering, simmer, inch through my veins. It will consume me if I’m not careful. It will eat me alive.

Veronica

We all have choices to make every day. Some are big. Some appear insignificant. The decisions we make impact our lives regardless of how small, or large they are. One different choice can alter our path in life entirely. I learned that. I learned that in a way that will change things for me in ways I can’t even imagine just yet. These changes are coming. I can feel them. I can sense them. It’s like a slow vibration on the surface of my skin, an innate awareness that something’s going to change the course of my life.

I don’t know if this will be for the better, or worse. I don’t know if it will be in a way I want, or in a way that will break me. No. That won’t happen. I’m already broken. Not in a physical way. No. Those will heal. The wounds in my back, and chest will repair themselves given time, and attention. No. I’m broken because my inner strength has finally run out, deserted me, it’s disappeared when I need it most, when I’m desperate for it to act as my shelter.

Broken is an apt word for what I am. I’m not shattered. Shattered you can piece back together. It may not be as perfect, good, even well put together as it once was, but it’s possible. I’m not damaged either. Damaged applies to things, and people that have gone through trauma, suffering, hardship, and have come out the other side with the scars to prove it. While I may have the scars, I can’t profess that what I went through was traumatic. I did what was right. What was necessary. What made sense to me. It might not make sense to some, it might not even seem sane to those very same people. But, when I saw Cage’s ex-wife, holding a gun, steady, trained, poised to shoot, and directed at Kendall something inside me snapped.

It was a conscious decision. I didn’t act on instinct. I didn’t spring into action like a super hero. I simply reacted. I saw when the look in Isabella’s eyes turned to deadly intent. When the heated kiss between Cage and Kendall was coming to its conclusion, I knew that was when she would strike. Isabella wanted everyone to know it was her that took Kendall’s life. She wanted the knowledge to be imbedded in Cage’s head as he laid it down at night, every night for the rest of his life, without Kendall. I couldn’t let that happen. It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t something I could live with, knowing I could possibly have done something to stop it. There wasn’t a second I considered the ramifications of what I would do. I didn’t stop to think I could die. I didn’t stop to think period.

Throwing myself in front of Kendall was in essence, a combination of luck and good timing. As the bullet ripped through my body, the fire of it was all consuming, the pain like nothing I ever imagined. The feeling of peace and understanding was a surprise though. Understanding that I stopped the devastation Kendall being shot would cause. And peace, well, peace because I knew in that minute, that if I did nothing else in my life, this decision would irrevocably be the right one.

I remember very little after hitting the ground, my muscles protested, my legs gave way, and my blood left my body. Things, people, voices, cries became as muted as the thick fog that overtook my conscious. That’s when I realised something else, something was wrong. It isn’t supposed to happen like this. I’m supposed to have time. I’m supposed to meet someone, start a family, continue to paint, make a life for myself. I’m supposed to LIVE.

There’s no way to stay awake. I’m getting weaker, groggier, my limbs are as heavy as my eyelids. I want to stay awake, but it doesn’t matter, I can feel the dark taking me. Hearing Nate’s voice through the chaos is like a balm to my soul. Knowing he’ll be with me when I take my last breath calms me somehow. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t want him to be the last person I hear, smell, and see. That too is irrelevant. What shouldn’t be, is not what I want.

I want Nate. More than, that I NEED him. My desire for Nate was never rational. Never explainable to anyone that wasn’t one of the two of us. At one time he felt the same, it saddens me he won’t feel that way for me again. There have been numerous times I’ve cursed him, sworn I will never forgive him for his indiscretion, for breaking my young heart, for making me feel desolate and alone. It’s all a lie.

In my moment of clarity I acknowledged the one thing I’ve kept buried deep in a corner of my heart, a corner devoted solely to Nate; I have forgiven him. Almost immediately, possibly even the day he crushed me. I love him enough to unburden myself of it, to let it fly, let that piece of me free.

Blinking up at him, I take in his strong square jaw, with the three days or so worth of stubble, his moss green eyes, and the chiselled cheek bones he wears so well. Nate’s brow is furrowed, the black hair that’s so black it’s almost blue flops into his eyes. It is a face I love. A face that will travel with me wherever I go from here. A face I’ve dreamed of every night since I left him.

Understanding is a funny word. It’s stuck in the land of in-between. Somewhere close to acceptance, but occasionally edging towards resignation. It is what it is. There’s no changing it. There’s no miraculous way to stop it from hitting you. Understanding is what I gathered in that moment looking up at the man I love. The man I was supposed to love. The man I will die loving.

I can vaguely recollect talking to Nate in that moment. What I say floats away on the breeze. It doesn’t remain in the here and now. I have a feeling what I utter is important, but I can’t recall it, no matter how hard I try. I don’t even know if I want to.

Once, in a time that was filled with new opportunities, filled with possibilities, filled with a light sprinkling of hope, I told Kendall I was floating. Floating through life, I could see the living, I could see them engaging with others, I could see the enjoyment of the people below me, I just didn’t know how to reach out and grasp what they had, how to hold on to it with both hands.

I’m still floating. Now, I’m floating in and out of a place I don’t know whether I’m permitted to stay in. It isn’t dark like some people expect. It isn’t light and love. It certainly isn’t home, I know where that is. My conscious self wants to shake me, force me to wake up. The tired, worn down, exhausted side of myself, wants me to let go, to embrace the place I’m visiting, to decide to stay for a while. Something stops me from accepting that side of my self’s invitation. The magnetic pull back to the world of the living, back to a place that feels like home is extreme.

Again, I know this is when I need to make a choice. The simple fact is; I’m indeed being given a choice. Most aren’t. This choice will be the second most important choice I will ever make. It will be the one to lead me down a whole new fork in the road, on a new path. It’s second to the choice to save Kendall over myself, because this choice is not righteous, it’s not based on love.

When I say everything changes based on our choices and decisions, I mean it. We can go from darkness to light at the blink of an eye. We can go from displacement to belonging in the matter of seconds. We can also go from comfort to a world of pain too.

My name is Veronica May Stevens, and this is my decision. This is when I make my choice.

A choice that would determine whether I landed safe on solid ground or if I remained……

Floating.