Page 54 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

I appreciate the company more than I expect. Alone, I’d just relive everything over and over again. I can’t even put on the television as all I seem to see are babies and happy moms, or ads for toys and equipment.

Niran doesn’t expect anything from me. If I want to talk, he’s there. If I don’t, he does whatever I indicate I need, holding me or just sitting in opposite chairs keeping silent.

Our pattern goes on for a few days. Slowly, it grows on me how much I appreciate him being there. Each morning, Niran leaves for work, but after the first day seems to trust that I’m safe to be left alone, as Kid doesn’t make a reappearance.

When he comes in, I’ve taken to asking about his sister, and become used to hearing the shit she’s got up to that day. As I hear more about her, I start to understand why a male can’t get inside her head, and begin to feel sorry, not just for her, but for him.

Growing up as I had, I’ve always had one regret. “I wish I had a sister,” I tell him one night.

“You can have mine,” he retorts.

For the first time in days, my lips start to curve. Then I voice the question I’ve been meaning to ask him for days. “Why don’t you wear your cut when you come here?” He’d had it that first day, but not since then.

He barks a short laugh. “Because I drive a truck. Don’t want to leave my bike parked in this area.” His raised eyebrow speaks volumes.

“Oh.”

That’s sensible, but he’d rather ride. I know that. The discussion about transport reminds me.

“What’s happened to my car?” I wait to hear that it’s been scrapped. It’s so far gone, I doubt it would be able to be fixed. How I’ll get around is just one more problem I’ll have to deal with, but far down my list right now. Practical things are way too much for me to handle. I’ve enough issue remembering to breathe oxygen in.

Now both his eyebrows rise. “Your car’s outside.”

I tilt my head in surprise, then slump. Of course it is. It will be up to me to scrap it. He’d have overstepped if he’d taken that on himself.

It seems he can read my mind. “Don’t look like that, Saffie. It’s still an old junker, but it’s been fixed for now. Not sure how long it will keep running, but for short journeys A to B, it should be fine.”

My eyes widen. “How much do I owe you?”

“Fuck all. It wasn’t much.” His expression challenges me to question him, but I stay quiet.

I’m sure it took more than a new set of spark plugs to get it running again, but I don’t care enough to argue, or worry I’m beholden to him. I’m mobile again, that’s all that matters.

The next day I return to my job, and gradually normal daily actions get easier to go through. My heart still aches, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to feel whole again, but I’m starting to think I’ll be able to exist in a world without my baby, even if I never forget him for a moment.

I’ve only one problem, and that’s that I’m starting to depend on Niran. I find I’m watching the clock, anxious for the time when the end of my shift comes around, knowing he’ll be waiting for me at home, being there to share my burden, hold me, let me cry, or put food in front of me.

It’s not fair I only appreciate him when I forget he’s a biker.

It’s been a week now since that fateful day when I made the decision to say goodbye to my baby. Not long enough for the wounds to heal, or even for my body to stop bleeding. But putting one foot in front of the other has started to become habit again.

I know Niran’s only here because he thinks I need him.

My worries that he’ll bring Duke to my door have at least subsided, but he’s a biker, though it’s been all too easy to forget that. Outside our bubble of my apartment, I wouldn’t want anything to do with him. There’d never be a time where I’d be comfortable meeting his club or being a part of whatever is his life.

I’m grateful that he’s been here at a time I didn’t think I’d be able to carry on, but in the real world, he and I would never have a chance, and it’s not fair to mislead him. My fears of motorcycle clubs are just too entrenched.

That night, I confront him.

“Niran.” I approach and sit down next to him. When he goes to put his arm around me, I pull away. “I think I need to do this on my own now.”

He glances at me sharply. “What do you mean?”

My shoulders rise and lower. “You coming around, being here when I get home, I’m leaning on you when I should start to stand on my own two feet.”

He looks taken aback. “But you don’t have to. I’m happy being here for you.”

I place my hand on his, squeezing gently. “You’re a good man, Niran. But how long is this going to last? How long will you keep coming around?”

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