Long Ride The Slayers MC #3) (12 page)

Heavy eyelids threaten to close and I feel pins and needles in my limbs before a ringing in my ears begins to grow louder.

My knees weaken and then suddenly feel as if they’re gone, missing.

In my head I know I’m falling, but it doesn’t feel like it. Instead, it feels like I’m sinking in quicksand, melting into a puddle where I once stood. That is, until the hard ground meets my bones, sending an unwelcome greeting that jolts me.

“Molly!” I hear through a tunnel-like speaker.

I see feet gather around me in a circle as bystanders realize what’s happened.

“Molly! Are you all right?” A pair of denim covered knees land inches from my face and I feel hands check the skin of my forehead.

I’ve only fainted once before. In the ninth grade, I was the captain of the field hockey team and we had a drill sergeant of a coach. She’d make us practice in ninety-five-degree heat, sweating our asses off, doing drills before class.

Anytime we’d complain or ask for a water break, she’d scream at us and make us run a lap around the track, calling us weak and saying how she was doing us a favor by toughening us up.

The only favor she ever did me was causing heat exhaustion that got me sent home from school for two days, where I missed an Algebra midterm because I’d fainted during homeroom from dehydration.

What I’m feeling now is eerily similar to what I felt then, even though it was so many years ago, I’d never thought it possible to remember the sensation.

I remember seeing flying unicorns holding field hockey sticks, dancing around the desks of the classroom as I was lying on the floor.

I guess delusions come standard with fainting.

This time, I see my sister sitting, cradling my head in her lap.

CHAPTER TWELVE

BABY

He’s kissing ass.

I know that’s what he’s doing.

Doesn’t matter, though. Doesn’t mean that I’m not gonna enjoy it while it lasts.

The house smells of bacon and coffee so I’m not surprised to see both on the kitchen table, but am taken aback when I see what else is there. Pancakes. Fruit. Orange juice.

Oh, and did I mention a bathed and fed infant napping in her automatic swing?

“Mornin’.” Stitch hands me a mug of Joe.

I rake it. “Mm hmm.”

I’m gonna drink his coffee. I’m gonna eat his pancakes and bacon. And then? Then I’m going to leave him with the dishes and the baby while I go shopping with Angel.

That’s the plan and I’m sticking to it.

“Good?” he asks when I swallow the first batch of homemade griddle cakes.

I could be a bitch right now and tell him I would’ve rather had Belgium waffles, but I don’t want to be cruel. “Mm hmm.”

“You sleep all right?” He tries another approach.

Different question, but same answer. “Mm hmm.”

He’s getting the point.

I wonder if I can squeeze a couple of loads of laundry out of this? After what he pulled last night, he’d better have the laundry done and the bed made. That is, if he hopes to sleep in it tonight.

I’ll admit, I got a lot of satisfaction from putting him in his place last night, but I was spiting myself just as much as him. He may have had to sleep alone on the pullout bed in the nursery, but I had to sleep alone in our king-sized memory foam bed.

I’ve already slept alone in that bed far too many times and swore to myself many many nights ago that I’d never take his sleeping body next to me for granted again. He deserved every drop of what he got last night, but, in the end I’m only hurting myself as much as him.

After furiously attacking my pancake, I leave the half empty plate in place and push away from the table, chugging the last of my orange juice. The coffee was good, but I leave it mostly untouched as I’m already running late.

I can stop at the drive-through and pick up a latte on the way to Dawson and Angel’s.

“You leaving?” He asks, watching me kiss Lu on the cheek before picking up my handbag from the table nearest the door.

“Mm hmm,” I give him the same two syllable non-word answer as before.

“Have a good time. See you when you get home,” Stitch smiles.

“Mm hmm.”

~*~

“How’s she feeling?” Dawson answers the door and immediately I ask him about Angel.

He looks tired, as if it’s much earlier than ten o’clock in the morning. “She’s in the kitchen. Won’t listen to me and stay in bed. Won’t listen to
anyone
. See if you can take a stab at it.”

Yeah, I’m not getting in the middle of this. I know I wouldn’t have listened to anyone back when I was in Angel’s position. But, I can casually mention that maybe we can skip the planned shopping trip to the mall and just go grab some lunch and a pedicure instead. Keep her off her feet.

“Hey girl,” I let my heavy handbag fall on the kitchen counter.

Angel’s dressed in a light cotton shift-dress and some sandals, sorting through some mail on the table. “’Sup? There’s coffee in the pot and travel mugs up in the cupboard, if you want to take some to go.”

Perfect. I stand on my tip toes to grab one of the silver metal thermos looking mugs.

Dawson reaches around me and helps, whispering so Angel can’t hear. “Cancel. I don’t want her gallivanting around till she sees the doc.”

I clear my throat to signal that I’ve heard him.

“You look nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before,” I pretend to check her out like a dude would. “Sexy mama.”

It’s true, I’m jealous of how she fills out the grey cotton dress. I know I’ve got a few more pounds of baby weight to lose, but even then I won’t have legs that look like Angel’s.

She scoffs. “Don’t get used to it. I can’t fit into any of my pants anymore and this is all that would fit. Thank God we’re going shopping.”

That was the plan. But, we planned the shopping trip
before
she fainted last night.

“Actually,” I pretend I’ve just thought of something. “I just found a really great new online boutique. Great maternity clothes and half the price as in the stores. Free shipping. Free returns, and
cute
! Much better than any of the muumuu’s and tents they sell down at the mall. I think you should try that. I can give you some of my old elastic waist jeans to get you through until the shipment gets here.”

“That’s a
great
idea!” Dawson pipes in, leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed over his chest. “You always said you hated how the clothes in those stores are too frumpy.”

Angel scowls at him. “
You
just don’t want me to go shopping. Because
you
are a paranoid control freak and don’t believe me when I say I’m fine.”

“
You
are not a doc,” he quips back and I do a double take at him. This is
not
the approach to take with Angel, and he should know better. She’s too stubborn to take something like that lightly and is probably going to try and spite him by doing what she wants anyway just to prove him wrong.

A fat white envelope is dropped from her fingers to the table. “And
you
are not a pregnant woman. So pipe down over there.”

Well
, this
is awkward.

“Actually Angel, I was really hoping we could just go get our nails done and grab a bite to eat later. Some shit went down at the house last night and I just need to chill today.” The metal lid screws tightly on the top of the cup of freshly poured coffee in my hands.

Dawson perks up. “Everything okay?”

I nod, blowing him off. “Yeah. Just need to bitch to a sympathetic ear about what assholes you boys can be sometimes.”

Angel throws her hands up as if I’m confirming something for her. “Tell me about it. Fine. We can check out the website from my phone while we’re there.”

Sold and done.

I like Angel well enough. She’s probably one of the closest friends I have, but I would never talk about the private shit going on at home with Stitch with her. It’s nothing against her, but I don’t really want to talk about it with
anyone
right now.

She straightens out her legs and wiggles her toes. “Well, I could use a good massage and the nail tech down at the salon spends extra time on my calves. Okay. I’ll grab my purse and meet you out front.”

Once she’s up the stairs as evident by the footsteps sounds coming through the ceiling, I turn to Dawson. “You owe me.”

He arches his brow and nods, knowing full well that I’m right, swaying to stand straight from his perch against the fridge. “You’re the best.”

Before I have a chance to pass, he’s stuck his hand in his jeans pocket and taken out a small stack of dollar bills. “Nails and lunch on me.”

I wouldn’t dream of taking cash from anyone other than Stitch, but given the circumstances, I feel vindicated in making an exception.

If I have to talk about my private business to keep
his
Ol’ lady preoccupied today, then
he’s
at least gonna pick up the tab.

“Damn right you are, buddy.”

~*~

“Maybe
I
should drive?” I casually mention as we’re walking down the driveway toward Angel’s parked car.

She stops short. “Not you too! I’m fine! I can walk, and I can drive.”

I hold up my hand in a sign of defense. “Whoa! I never said you couldn’t. But, my flip flops are in my trunk and I’m gonna need them if we go to get our nails done. That’s all. I swear.”

Angel looks as if she feels guilt for jumping down my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m just so sick of Dawson watching me like a hawk all morning.”

I jingle my keys out for her to see. “Don’t mention it. I understand. Now, let’s go get pampered.”

This worked out great because Angel drives like a speed demon and I usually find myself clutching onto the seat for dear life.

“So did you tell your doctor what happened last night?” I casually work into the conversation as we stroll along down the road toward town.

Angel slides her sunglasses on. “Yeah. She wants me to come in tomorrow morning. Probably nothing.”

She’s right. It
is
probably nothing. But, better safe than sorry.

She begins to make excuses. “My blood sugar was low. It was hot out all day. And, I was making myself dizzy by constantly looking behind me.”

“Why were you doing that?” Any reasonable person would ask.

Even with her oversized sunglasses on, I can see her cheeks begin to blush. “It sounds ridiculous.”

“Most things do. So? Why?” I’m dying to hear.

Angel shifts in her seat and the leather of the chair creeks. “I—I felt like I was being
watched
.”

Huh? “Like
Dawson
watching you the way he always does?”

She blows a little stream of air to move a wispy piece of hair from her cheek. “No. Dawson was nowhere near there. I felt it all day. It was just
weird
.”

It is. “Well. Life is weird sometimes.”

Angel agrees, “Tell me about it. I was so out of it that I was hallucinating.”

“What?!” I’m beginning to understand why Dawson might have been worried. I don’t recall ever hallucinating when I was carrying Lu.

“Yup. I saw my sister bending over me, talking to me. She was there one minute and gone the next,” she goes into detail.

Keeping my eyes darting back and forth to the road, I see just enough to steer clear of someone trying to merge ahead of us while I steal glances at Angel. “The sister that’s dead? The junkie?”

She’s seeing ghosts now- not that I believe in that shit, but I certainly don’t ever want to find out if I’m wrong. A chill runs up my spine.

“No. I mean… I don’t know. She could be dead. She might not be. She was using so much the last time she skipped town that I wouldn’t think it’s impossible. All I know is I haven’t seen her in years and if you had asked me a week ago, I would have told you that I never wanted to see her again after what she put us all through. But, that’s not what I felt in my heart when I saw her in my head last night.” Angel props her elbow up against the window and rests her head on her palm.  “A part of me felt happy to see her. Another part of me wanted to slap the shit out of her, but…”

She exhales, giving up on the sentence.

“I get it. She’s your sister. You love her. You hate her. It all mixes together.” I rationalize. I wouldn’t know myself, as I don’t have any siblings.

“I guess,” Angel pacifies me. “It’s too confusing. Let’s change the subject. What happened over your house? Stitch fuck up or something?”

Yeah, he did. And it cost him his freedom for almost a year. But, I digress.

“He just set me off last night. It’s been a long time coming and just blew up.” I try to be vague to avoid having to give details.

Angel seems happy for the distraction from her own drama. “Is this the first fight you guys have had since he came home?”

I nod and check traffic before making a right on red. “Pretty much. I mean the first
real
fight, anyway, that wasn’t over him forgetting to replace the toilet paper or something stupid like that.”

“Well, it had to happen at some point. At least it’s out of the way and over with. That must be a relief, right?”

I have to remind myself that she and Dawson haven’t been together very long. She doesn’t know what it’s like yet when so much shit piles up and is stuffed down, but give it time. She’s gonna learn the hard way. We all do.

~*~

DAWSON

“What the fuck do you
mean
you’re not leaving?” I feel the vein on the side of my neck throbbing so hard, I’m sure it will burst.

Tina stands toe to toe with me, folding her arms across her chest. “You heard me. I’m not leaving until I know my sister is okay.”

God help me, I’m gonna go ballistic.

“D! Calm down, man! Hear her out!” Gryff steps in between the two of us as we square off in his kitchen.

I’m not about to hit a woman, even though every bone in my body is aching to for her treachery, but he’s a different story. I take a wild swing at him, but he ducks only to leave me punching through thin air.

“You sonnuvabitch!” I turn to where he’s popped up behind me. “You were supposed to get her outta town last night!”