Page 53 of Absolution

My time in California has been eye opening. Even with the distance, I feel closer to the man who holds the title of my husband. Ratchet let me into his past far more than I think he even intended. Yet knowing what I did now, I think that I love him even more. Despite the blood on his hands for the club, he was a man that had experienced the worst of what life has to offer discarded children. He protected his sister the best he could, but when someone is so far gone, there’s nothing more you can do. While his words told me he didn’t fault himself, his voice told a different story. His sister was everything to him, but no matter what he did the outcome would have likely been the same. I lived through addiction for years, and I barely survived the detox and withdraw process. Countless days of hot and cold flashes, the feeling of my insides burning and rotting from the inside out, and then the dark thoughts that screamed inside of my mind to end it all. Only the strong could survive it… and someone with a good support system, like I had with him. He may not be the hero that you read about in books, but my savior came equipped with a motorcycle and a blackened heart of gold.

Though the weeks dragged on and on while I was back home in California, it seemed that time moved much faster here. Ratchet had done so much work on the trailer in the two weeks I was gone, that I barely recognized the place. This is what I can only surmise that kept him busy in my absence. He surprises me at every turn, and this is one of the things I like best about him. The point you think you have him pinpointed is the moment he pulls a bait and switch and reveals a completely different side of him. Much like a priceless gemstone, he is multi-faceted.

The days after my return Ratchet filled me with satisfying the ache of our separation, and we began to learn more about each other, between my shifts at Willie’s. He was resistant at first to let me go back, and frankly after my father’s visit, I nearly let him convince me, but I needed something to pass the time. Where he had his renovations, I had nothing to occupy my mind and body besides him. Something he didn’t mind, but the days of waiting to find out when I would finally get to meet Asher, were killing me.

Until today.

Nicole called me shortly after my shift ended last night to give me the good news. She mentioned that the foster family wasn’t cooperating with them, and that she had to pull rank in order to make this happen. What Nicole didn’t know is that I knew this would happen. For whatever reason, my father didn’t want me to interfere with Asher’s place in his home. Having Asher in his custody was the last thing that I wanted. I would rather give up my custody battle and for Asher to be placed with someone else, than for him to remain under the same roof as that man. My father may seem like a reformed holy man on the outside, but the cold, emptiness of his eyes told a different story. A story with an unhappily ever after for us all. Was I scared of what he would try to do out of retaliation? Of course, I am, but my fear is not keeping me from doing anything, despite the consequences that may be coming my way.

“You ready to go, Siren?” Ratchet yells around the corner of the bathroom doorway. My eyes move from my reflection in the mirror to his face, and in his eyes, I find my peaceful center. The dark storms may swirl and churn inside of me, but he’s like the lighthouse calling me home. All I need is his call to bring me back safely.

“Almost,” I mutter, while swiping another layer of mascara over my lashes.

“You know that you don’t need that clown make-up shit, right? You’re more beautiful without it.”

I swivel and swat him away.

“You’re bias,” I holler back at him. His chuckles reflect off the walls as he stalks back to the living room.

Today is by far the most panic-inducing day of my life. Forgot the Tribe dungeon, my father’s threats, Ratchet’s surprise marriage, or the day in court. Meeting Asher tops them all. He’s grown up so much in his life without me in it, that I am afraid he’ll hate me. His reaction could run the gambit, but I was willing to try to connect with the one person on this earth who shares at least half of my genetic sequence. The DNA test results were still pending, but I knew that no matter the percentage of blood we share, he will always be my brother. Whether he is in my life or not, I will make damn sure that my father is not a part of the equation.

I glance back in the mirror one more time, and check my appearance. My hair is slicked back in a long ponytail, and my make-up is minimal. The last thing I want is for Asher too take one look at me, and think I’m fake. This is the real me, and I want that to shine through. No frills. No pretentions. Just me.

Slipping from the bathroom, I find my husband spread out on the couch with his arm draped across the back of it. Like me, he chose to be casual today with just a t-shirt and jeans. We had a brief argument about his insistence to wear his cut, but it was quickly solved with a promise of making it up to him later. I didn’t want my brother to see him and run for the hills, from the scary biker. Ratchet was intimidating enough on his own without all of his pomp and circumstance. Today he was just a man, driving his wife to meet her little brother.

His eyes remained trained on the car auction that is blaring from the television set, that suddenly appeared when I got home.

“Earth to Jude,” I tease him. “Come in, Jude.”

His head cranes around slowly, and he beams up at me.

“I love it when you call me by my first name,” he smiles back. “It sounds so different rolling off those beautiful lips.

“You know, I did a little web search yesterday to see what your name meant. Do you know what I discovered?” I giggle.

“That saying it three times will get you the best orgasm of your life,” he offers back with a hint of arousal in his voice.

“Nice try, but there’s no time.”

He frowns, and reaches for the remote to flick off the show he was watching. He rises from the couch, and saunters towards me with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“As I was saying,” I start, grabbing my purse. “I found out that you share a name with a Catholic saint.”

“That so,” he dares. “The saint of good fucks?”

I laugh and squeal, when he grabs me and pulls me against him. I let him feel like he’s winning, before shoving him away, and pointing him out the door.

“It couldn’t be farther than that. Saint Jude is the patron saint of lost causes.”

“Well, that’s not even remotely right,” he offers, stepping out the trailer door. “I can’t be lost when I am with you.”

My heart swells at his sweetness. For a man who can be so rough and vicious, he is a completely different person with me. He balances his light and dark sides so well, that there are times I forget the side of him that I should be scared of. The side I hope I never have to see him use again for my sake or the clubs.

His mouth forms into a line of disapproval. Thanks for getting me in trouble, Google.

“Don’t blame me. I’m just the name meaning messenger.”

“Come on, wife. We have places to be, and once we’re done, I’ll show you the patron saint of lost causes.”

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