Page 10 of Patching Over

“I didn’t know y’all were in this area,” I murmur. When I realize I’m wobbly, I continue. “I’m sorry, I need to sit down or something. I guess I’m not back to one hundred percent yet.”

Instead of moving aside, he merely picks me up, then deposits me on the bed. After that, he drags the covers up and over me. “We need to talk but first, let me get you something to eat. Any allergies?”

I shake my head then say, “Not that I know of, anyhow.”

“Be back in a few minutes, Sprite.” He looks at me once more before heading out of the door I didn’t check earlier, leaving me to my own thoughts.

From the familiar way he traversed around the room, I determine that this must be his personal space. Hell, I’m inhisbed. Since the other side is still neatly made, I surmise that I’ve been by myself which raises yet another question in my mind. Where has he been sleeping if I’ve been tucked in his bed while healing?

How did he know where I was, and how did he find my exact location in the snowstorm? What about Enoch? Will he come looking for me if he realizes I’m still alive? How about my parents? Not that I give one shit about them seeing as they sold me off to Enoch to get out from under what they owed him, but it’s still one of those questions that’s swirling in my head.

I’m no closer to any answers when the man walks back inside with a tray. I can see steam rising from a bowl as my stomach starts growling. As a blush tinges my cheeks, I avoid making eye contact with him, embarrassed that my body is betraying me, and giving away the secret of his effect on me

“Don’t look away from me, there’s no reason to feel ashamed or awkward. You’re bound to be hungry seeing as you’ve been out of commission for a week. We finally got Doc to come in and hook up an IV so you wouldn’t become dehydrated.”

Shrugging, I sit up more as he sets the tray in front of me. “This smells wonderful,” I whisper, appreciating the aromatic scent. It’s actually more food than I’ve ever had offered to me at one sitting. An overly abundant bowl of what looks like homemade chicken noodle soup, two thick pieces of bread that has been substantially buttered, a container of Jell-O, a cup of what looks like apple juice, as well as a bottle of water.

“One of the brothers enjoys cooking, so he’s put a pot of soup on every morning in the hopes you’d wake up. He claims hisgrandmother’s recipe will cure whatever ails you. Just eat what you can, I imagine your stomach isn’t going to hold a whole lot. While you’re doing that, I’ll tell you what I know, okay?”

I nod while bringing the bread to my mouth. Biting into the crusty, yet soft bread, has me moaning out loud. “Oh, this is so good!”

He chuckles before growing serious again. “First things first. I didn’t introduce myself. My name’s Brick, and I’m the President of the Roanoke, Virginia chapter of the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club. We’ve just patched into the club this past week and were having a celebratory party when one of the members from another chapter told me I had drop everything to find you stat.”

With eyebrows raised suspiciously, I ask, “How would he have known about me?”

“He didn’t. His grandmother, who has some unique, divine abilities, called and told him it was urgent we find you. When we finally located you, it became obvious to all of us why it was crucial we tracked you down because you were hovering at death’s door.”

I must raise my brow higher into my forehead or something because he nods as if to affirm the words he just said. “I still don’t totally understand, I guess. But I’m not very bright, or at least that’s what my parents used to tell me.” My voice is quiet, almost submissive in tone because of how I’ve been raised to be seen but not heard.

The glower that comes over his face has me cringing in fear. Ineverspeak unless asked a direct question; I’ve learned valuable lessons the hard way for not following that directive. So why did I feel it was okay to do it right now, with him?

“Never gonna lift a hand to you, hit you, or any woman for that matter, Sprite. But I can’t have you putting yourself down that way, it’s unacceptable. I’m giving you a lot of informationand leeway seeing as you just woke up after a near-death experience, so you not grasping it all at once is understandable. Now, what can I call you?”

“Rayleigh,” I reply while attempting to open the bottle of water, but my shaky hands prevent me from getting a tight enough grip to twist off the plastic cap.

He hurriedly reaches out, takes the bottle from my quivering hold, the pliable bottle seems so small in his masculine hands, and quickly opens the top before handing it back to me.

A faint smile crosses my face when he finishes. The kindness he’s already shown me is far more than I can ever remember in my life. “Thank you. I’m being one hundred percent honest though, Brick. I didn’t finish school; my education level is subpar at best.”

“A lot of people dropped out of school, Rayleigh, doesn’t make them less smart than others. Why didn’t you finish?” he asks.

As shame courses through me, I remind myself that what happened to me wasn’t my fault. “When I was a little girl, too many teachers noticed I was what they called “neglected”. After multiple reports of malnutrition to child services, my parents freaked out and unenrolled me from school.”

“Do you remember how old you were when that happened?”

I close my eyes while I go through my memories, reliving key points in my life like they’re listed in order on a Rolodex. “If my recollection is correct, it’d be the fifth grade? Maybe the fourth? I don’t know with exact certainty, Brick, to be honest with you.” Something else comes to mind and I blurt out, “I don’t even know when my birthday is!”

I can see the anger welling up in him with my abrupt confession because now he knows I’ve never celebrated my birthday, never had a party, never got a fucking gift. He takes a few deep breaths, likely to calm himself before he states, “I’llsee what Hawg can find out for you because everyone should know when they were born. As for right now, you’re free from them and we’re going to help you anyway we possibly can. First, however, I need a name.“”

“A name?” I gave him my name; does he think I’m lying to him? I’ve been steadily sipping on my meal as we talk, and find I’m getting full, despite only eating half the giant-sized bowl of soup.

“Yeah, of the dead motherfucker who hurt you, then dumped you on the side of the road like you were no better than trash.”

Now, with him bringing up my torturer, I feel as though I’m going to throw up everything I’ve just eaten, so I convulsively swallow until the feeling passes. As fear engulfs me, and I begin to shake, and I find my eyes growing misty. “What if he finds out I’m still alive?” I lower my voice to where it comes out as a whisper, fearful that someone else might hear us.

“Oh, he’s going to know, right before I end his miserable existence,” Brick promises. “My brothers and I will ensure that before he draws his last breath, he feels every bit of pain you did, sweetheart.”

I’m not sure if I like him calling me sprite or sweetheart better, I just know that when he does so, I feel flutters dancing in my stomach. Never having had that happen before, I don’t know how to act. Finally, I decide to provide him with the information he’s asking for.

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