Page 38 of Hyde

“I didn’t like sleeping without you,” he whispers when we’re nose to nose on the pillow.

His admission makes my heart leap and I reach over to cup his cheek with my palm, just before I kiss his nose.

“What’s going to happen when we get home?” I give voice to the thought that’s been bothering me for days.

“I’ll claim you properly, get you a cut, and then find a place for us to live,” he says, glossing over the part of the story where my parents flip out. “I’ve been renting my house since I left and there’s like five months to go on the current contract. I don’t feel right about trying to end it early and it’s pretty small, anyway.”

“You’re going to find a house for me?” I slowly repeat the last part of his statement.

“I mean, it might take some time to put in the bunker and escape tunnel of your dreams, but I figure I can get us a nice three or four bedroom. Y’know, something we can grow into. I’d like a private outdoor space; hot tub, grill and smoker, all that stuff.” His list tells me that he’s put some thought into this, and I smile at the thought of filling up those bedrooms.

“You do remember my gram, don’t you?” I ask, smiling at the thought of Mom’s grandmother. He clicks his tongue at me in reply. “Well, she left me some property and if you like it, maybe we build our house? A bunker for me and the backyard of your dreams?”

“Damn. I’d forgotten,” he says with a chuckle. “She and Flint were always trying to snap up properties before the other found out about them. There was a time or two he’d be cussing up a blue streak and Ragnar would just start howling along with him.”

Bree’s dog never needed much reason to start barking, and as loud as he was, Ragnar was just the sweetest boy. Fondly remembering him, I decide to add on to our list.

“Maybe when the dust settles, we can try to find a Norwegian Elkhound, like she had?” I ask him.

“We’ll find a place to rent, then build a place on your land with a doggie door to the backyard,” he quickly agrees before letting out a deep breath. “When we get back, you should start calling me Hyde.”

“No, I’m not. Besides, I’ve never heard Bree call you that.”

His smile fades and a shadow crosses his face.

“How did you get your road name?” I ask, never having questioned it before.

“Back when you were a peanut, I was in that accident. You’ve heard about that, right?”

“Yeah, a pile-up during a snowstorm and the doctors didn’t think you’d ever be able to walk again.” I repeat the basic facts that I had heard years ago. “But you fought through it and later took up running.”

“That’s the version you heard?” His twisted grin tells me that I was told a fairytale. “I was more dead than alive when they got me to the hospital. I don’t remember that part of it, just later on when I finally woke up. Bree, Mom, I mean, was with me through it all. Every day. She never stopped fighting for me, even when I had given up.”

I can’t help the tears that well up in my eyes at the pain I hear in his voice. He swipes his thumbs over them and kisses my forehead.

“I was a shit to her. To everyone really. Mom, Flint, and your dad were the only ones I gave permission to visit.”

“Why my dad?” I ask, having a good idea what his answer is going to be.

“Because of his own scars,” Joe chokes out the words. “He was the only one who could really understand how I felt. Gunner never once looked at me with pity, never placated me that ‘I’d be back on my feet in no time’. We talked through my options and when I was tired, he’d give Bree a break and sit next to me, telling me about all the shit the guys were getting up to around the clubhouse.”

“That sounds like him,” I whisper back. When I was old enough, I ran a search on my dad one time. That was when I found out about all the medals he had been awarded while in the service, surprised since he had never talked about them.

“One of the times he stopped by, I was fighting physical therapy and just laying into Mom something awful. I looked up to see him frozen in the doorway. His face was bright red, but that scar stayed white—it was like the old warriors who had painted their faces. He told Mom to leave the room, she fought him, telling him it was alright. That I was just in pain and that everyone needed to calm down.

“He picked her up and put her in the hallway, then secured the door. Now, back then, I was still a bit nervous around your dad on a good day. He clamps his hand around my leg and tells me that he’s certain, with the right amount of pressure, he could snap my fibula. Then he started squeezing.” Joe barely pauses, even as I feel a chill go through his body. “I’m pretty sure Istarted crying, I don’t fucking know, what did occur to me was that if I could still feel that much pain, then, somewhere inside of me I must have enough strength to walk.”

“What happened next?”

“He told me that if he ever heard me speak to Bree like that again, he’d rip my tongue out of my mouth. The next morning when I woke up, instead of Bree on the window seat, Flint had pulled a chair up next to my bed.” Joe doesn’t try to hold back the grin that splits his face. “Suddenly, Gunner didn’t seem so scary.”

“So, Hyde is because Flint threatened your hide?”

“Allegedly it’s as in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. You may have noticed I’m a pretty even keel kinda person, so the moral was to keep my monster under control,” he tells me. “But yeah, it’s a reminder from Flint.”

“And that’s why Bree will never say it,” I conclude, before asking the bigger question. “Now, how are we going to break our relationship to my parents?”

“I’m gonna look Gunner in the eye and tell him you crawled, naked, onto—ouch—my lap—crap, stop that,” Joe laughs as he tries to pin my hands. “And really, what choice did I have when your titties were inches away from my mouth. Fuck!”

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