Page 64 of Property of Chaos

“So, because of things outside your control, you’d deny yourself pleasure?” I pull my hands back to her ankle, not ready to stop touching her but wanting less pressure until we’ve got this shit sorted out. “Are you a fucking nun? A martyr?”

“No.” She snorts.

“Then why the fuck are you mentally flagellating yourself?” I wrap my hands around her leg, handcuffing us together.She won’t run.I won’t let her get out of this.

I saw what she wrote. I read the pain in those words. She blames herself for what shitty fucks like her stepfather did to her. Vanessa blames herself for not being able to move past it. Forfeelingthe fucking pain their neglect inflicted.

She’s not a goddamn stone. She breathes and bleeds and deserves to let those goddamn emotions flow.

But she doesn’t need to make herself a prisoner to that pain. She’s deserving of good days, too.

They don’t negate the bad ones, and they sure as shit don’t mean she doesn’t care.

Contrary—they show she gives enough of a fuck about herself to create the life she should have had.

To rise above it. Not forget it or excuse it, but stand over that bullshit and put the fucker where he belongs: groveling at her feet.

Her warm hand rests atop my forearm as though to ask me to stop.

I unknit my fingers and pull away. She may as well be a goddamn boat in an ocean storm: with every breath, she bobs further and further away from me.

I’ve got to save this.

“Tell me what your ideal day is.”

Her eyebrow hitches. Yeah, I know. I sound way too touchy-feely for a goddamn biker. But what most people don’t see is the work we put in behind the scenes at the club. Sure, the fuckers at our table ain’t the best at sharing their emotions, but what they excel at is standing by their brothers when they need help.

It ain’t weak to speak.

It’s fucking expected you will.

“My ideal day,” Vanessa murmurs, testing the idea on her tongue. “If I could have anything in the world?”

“Anything.”

She sighs, tucking her arms beside her, elbows on my shins. “I guess it would start during the night.” She half-smiles. “No nightmares. No three A.M. panic attacks.”

“Sounds fair.”

“When I woke up, there’d be sunshine spilling across the floor. I love it when there’s warm light first thing in the morning.” She turns her head, staring out the window as she talks. “I’d have someone to talk to over coffee.” Her mouth twitches, and she pauses to swallow down the rising sadness. “I think I’d like to work from home. And I know I’ve been told in the past that it’s unhealthy. That I need social interaction, blah, blah. But you know what? I like it quiet. I like there being no pressure. No fuckery from people having shit days themselves.”

“Like the two in the cafe the other day?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She peeks at me before resuming her trance out the window. “Like them.” Ness sighs, her left hand idly shifting to my knee.

I don’t know if she realizes she does it, and like fuck I’ll draw her attention to it in case she stops. So, I sit frozen, absorbing the absolute gift of her sense of comfort, and let her continue.

“I’d create.” She grins. “I don’t know what, but it’d be colorful.” She chuckles. “I know that’s weird coming from me, considering I dress mostly in black, but I actually like a lot of color. Like, when people have those cozy gaming setups with the lights and plants and stuff. I like that.”

I’d give it to her.

“But I’d stop for lunch. That’d be when I leave the house. I’d walk to town and meet my husband. Sit somewhere pretty under the trees or catch up with Theresa. Relationships would be on my terms.” Her expression hardens. “Nobody pressuring me to maintain connections that only hurt me. Nobody forcing me to fit their mold.”

“You’d like it with the Kings,” I muse. “Conventions are out the fucking window. We do what makes us happy, even if that means severing contact with family.”

“Because you guys are a family of sorts, right?” She pins me with a curious stare. “I did some research about what clubs like yours do.”

“Yeah?” I lean forward, folded arms resting on my knees. “What did you learn?”

---