Page 17 of Tormented in Silence: Part One

“Oh, I need to go get my bag if we are going somewhere to eat.”

I roll my eyes and gently push on her back, nudging her forward to keep walking down the sidewalk. There is a small sandwich shop a block away that I like to get food from when I’m working, and I think Presley will like it, too.

“You don’t need it. Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

She looks up at me with a scowl and goes to speak, but I raise a brow as I glance down at her. She huffs before closing her mouth and continuing to walk. Shops line both sides of the street, with sidewalks that sometimes get filled with people roaming around, but right now, it is pretty mellow, with only a few people out. As you walk you can always smell different things like the fresh bread from the sandwich shop or baked goods from the bakery.

As we continue, I watch as Presley’s eyes take in everything. She loves to look and take her time, it seems. Which is fine by me. I am a very patient man. “You’ve been here two months, right?”

She nods, not looking over at me as she gazes around Main Street. “Yeah. Almost three now, I think. But I haven’t walked over here yet. Only drove through a handful of times. How long have you lived here?”

“My whole life. I’ve never lived anywhere else. I graduated from Jackson High. Never went to college, just joined the MC and then took over running the shop for an older member who retired. I used to work on bikes with my dad when I was a kid.”

She glances up at me as we turn the corner to where the sandwich shop sits. “This is my first time moving away from where I was born. I grew up in one home and then moved into one other before coming here.” I can’t help but notice the gleam of sadness in her eyes. She doesn’t mention her husband, which I understand, and I won’t bring it up since she doesn’t know that I know about it.

As we walk in, Presley’s face beams with excitement as she heads to the front. Carol, who owns the shop with her husband, is working the front counter, and a few other people are inside, but it isn’t too busy. Presley looks over the menu with such interest it makes me want to be able to look at things through her eyes. Has she always looked at things with such amazement and joy, or is that a new thing from whatever she has been through?

How could a man ever let this woman go? She is a fucking angel, and she’s mine. Now it’s just a matter of being patient and letting her come to terms with that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I have never felt this way before, but I know without a doubt that I have to have her. She is the one for me.

We both order and take a seat. I watch as she seems to kind of shut down. Her eyes don’t look as bright as they did when we first got here, and she is pinching the palm of her hand.

“Presley.” Her eyes jump to mine. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

She takes a few seconds to contemplate what to say. It’s like she is trying to see into my soul and determine whether or not she can trust me. After taking a few deep breaths, she makes a choice. One that shocks me. This angel has more strength than I ever imagined.

“I was married before I came here.” She inhales. “Okay, well, I’m still married, but I’m in the process of getting a divorce.” She rolls her eyes.

I clench my fists under the table, thinking about some fucker wanting to not only divorce her but giving her a hard time, too. I’ll kill him. For her. If she asked right now, I’d do it.What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Anyway, he liked to always be the one in control, and as much as I didn’t mind that, I also realize now that I am an independent woman, and I don’t need someone to take care of me or do things for me. Not that I don’t appreciate it, I just don’t want to feel like I am in that position again, and I’m not saying that we are going anywhere, but I could have paid for myself. I should have. I gave in too easily because part of me still craves being taken care of, but I don’t need to be, and I am trying to teach myself that.”

“Presley,” I interrupt her rambling. “I understand. It’s okay. I get wanting to be independent, but if you’re with me, you will never ever pay for anything when we’re out. It’s who I am. I would never let you pay, and that doesn’t take away from you being your own person. It does not lower the amount of respect I have for you or make me see you lesser of a person. You can still take care of yourself and be everything you want to be while letting me pay for things. Alright?”

Fresh tears fall, but she quickly wipes them away as Carol brings our food over to us. She gives me the side eye at seeing Presley’s tears but says nothing. Yet. Knowing her, she will wring my neck later on or end up calling my mother; they’ve been friends for years.

“I understand, and I am sorry for rambling on about it. I just worked myself up over nothing.” She keeps her eyes downcast.

“It’s not nothing if it bothers you. I want to know every thought that goes through your head. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know. I am not going to bullshit you, angel.”

She looks up at me. “Don’t say things like that. You can’t mean them.”

I raise a brow. “Why do you think I don’t mean them? Pres, I will try not to take offense since you don’t know me well yet, but I won’t lie to you. And I won’t feed you bullshit either. Ever.” The need to ask who the fuck was messing with her head is extremely overwhelming, so instead I pick up my sandwich and start eating, gesturing for her to do the same.

After we eat in silence for a few minutes, Presley puts her food down and tilts her head, considering me for a moment before sighing. “I really don’t mean to offend you. I just, sometimes I get anxiety. It’s not a huge deal. But I just panic over little things or things become really overwhelming randomly, which is fine. I can handle it. It’s easy to say you want to hear everything and then brush them off when they actually open up to you. That person already spent hours on end battling their mind, trying to decide if they can actually show you their wayward thoughts or not just to be shut down or called crazy.” She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I just mean you can’t say things like that when you don’t know if you mean them or not.”

I reach across the tiny table and grab her hands, pulling them apart. She looks down and grimaces as she realizes she was pinching her palm pretty hard. I keep one of her hands in my own and give it a light squeeze. I am close to my brothers; I always have been. Especially those of us that have known each other for a long time. But there are things I don’t know about them and things they don’t know about me, and they never will. I don’t open up to people and let them see the side of me that’s more vulnerable. Who would want that?

But I can’t sit here and let her think that I don’t understand. She clearly has dealt with shitty people in her life, and I want to fix that. I want to heal her.

“I understand. My sister dealt with mental health issues almost all her life. It isn’t easy, and I watched people brush her problems under the table as shit that she just needed to get over. But it’s never that simple. I get that you don’t believe me. Words don’t mean shit anymore in this world. But I will show you I mean what I say. Every single thought or feeling you have is valid, and I want to hear every single one.”

Tears glisten in her eyes, but she quickly uses her free hand to rub them away. We get caught in each other’s gazes. I’ve never wanted to just wrap someone up and hold them before. Put them back together. Never let them shed another tear. Keep them safe.

It’s confusing as hell how I can feel so much for someone so fucking fast, and part of me wants to run from it, but I don’t think I could even if I tried. I see the same thoughts swirling in her large brown eyes. She’s just as confused as I am by these feelings.

Carol comes back over, breaking us from the moment. “Hey, cuties, anything else I can get for ya?”

I glance over at Presley, who shakes her head. “No, Carol, I think we’re good.”

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