Page 120 of Tied to You
Except, I might want children one day. And he said he doesn’t. Ever.
What Travis and I have is love. Yes, even I will be the first to admit that the shouting and physical bouts may seem a little crazy, but that’sourway. It’s what we do. I’m far too determined to backdown or quit, and he’s simply too much of a brute to ever concede or walk away from something. We clash for love, care and a need to protect what we desire most in this world, which is each other.
I get his fear. I understand that his childhood was tainted because of the way his parents loved. But just because they were like that, doesn’t mean he would be. Travis is a man who loves deep. I see it for the club and for his aunt and uncle. And me. He also hurts deep, too. I think the thought of what we have not being enough one day is eating away at him just as it is me. I know if I don’t squash his wayward thoughts or put his mind at rest, the idea of us not beinguswill manifest like a plague. With time, it will only get worse. Until all of the things that make us,us, will eventually fade away.
I just can’t see how I give up wanting something like this to make him happy. Would he have children to simply pacify me? Because he loves me? It pains me, but after how he spoke to Sophie, I don’t think he could. Sadly, given how I left my dad’s clutches; I don’t think I could sacrifice not having children to satisfy him either.
It’s a stalemate.
My head whirls and my stomach knots when I think about how I make it better, knowing that for the first time in my life, I don’t immediately have asolution. He doesn’t say a word as I wrap my arms around his waist, silently taking up my position. He starts the engine, and my thighs tighten, holding myself against him. His smell goes a little way to calming my fluttering heart and sudden worry. What the hell am I going to do? Knowing how we both are, we’ll stay like this until breaking point. Question is, who will break first?
We didn’t speak whilst we sat in with my doctor. Being realistic, how much can two people really talk whilst a doctor is assessing you? Still, there was nothing as we sat there and waited. He didn’t hold my hand or ask me how I was. Not once did he look up from his phone, either. I know he’s busy, but I also know this is his way of playing it cool, making it appear as though everything is okay when it’s not. Fuck my life, if this is how it is after one day, I dread to think what it will be like in another week, or a month…
My unwanted thoughts drift away as we make our way out of town onto faster roads.
He always tells me his favourite way to clear his head is out on two wheels. With the wind hitting his face and the engine roaring underneath him, more often than not, he comes home a different man. I must admit, it’s been calming for the soul whenever he’s taken me out. With no destination in mind, we just leave. Whether it’s to chase the sun or to count the stars, we’re able to drop everything and head out. Naturally, just when I feel less tense, that little voice inside tells me if we added anybody else to our duo, this wouldn’t happen. There’d be no more of this.
I grip him tighter, resting my head against his back, hating the thought. I love this. This is my new happy place. Even with my helmet, the smell of leather and his citrusy shower gel invade me. Calming me. When we get home, we need to come to some sort of compromise, talk about our future. I don’t want anything coming between us.
Weaving past a car, I’m thrown to the left, and his hand comes down to rest on my leg. He does this when he’s riding too fast. Like my protector. Another jolt, this time to the right, and his hand is immediately off me.
Something doesn’t feel right.
We’re moving too fast for me to lift my head, but with it turned to one side, I check the traffic behind us. I can’t see anything untoward. The tension in his body, however, permeates through mine. He’s focused on something, his large frame now leaning slightly forward as he watches theroad ahead.
I move with him, my body melding to his like a yin-yang. He straightens, I move back. He leans, and I move forward. It’s with one of these moves of symmetry that I catch a glimpse of a bike racing in the outer lane. I don’t immediately recognise who it is, but as it tears up the tarmac, the distinctive leather cut of a Sodom Saviour catches my eye.
He gains on us, dodging traffic with minimal effort.
Squeezing Travis a little harder, he pulls on the throttle, increasing our speed.
The other bike draws closer with ferocious intent. It’s clear from the way his focus remains on us that we’re his intended target. Given the moves the Rippers are making lately, it has to be down to the drugs. Either that, or it’s a case of wrong place, wrong time.
But we’re not on his turf. In fact, he’s riding through the Rippers’. I know enough now to understand that they don’t move inside areas the other club controls. Like most things, the more of something someone has, the more in control they are. It’s just the way it goes. So why is he brazenly chasing ushere? Such a bold move will call for a retaliation. One Rocco hinted towards. Do the Saviours already know?
We undertake a lorry in the slow lane, momentarily losing sight of him. Once we pass the front of it, pulling through the lorry’s slipstream, the Saviour’s right there, leaning his bike to the left, directly into our path.
I gasp, tightening my hold on Travis, slamming my eyes shut. My move makes the bike wobble as Travis dodges his advance, slowing the bike before immediately twisting the throttle and throwing us back.
It’s an assault on my senses. The harsh smell of burning rubber mixed with leather and smoke invades my nose as my now damp eyes frantically search for the rider. The lorry’s brakes continue to shudder with intermittent screeches, forcing my ears to ring with fear that he’s going to plough into us.
I can’t control my shakes. Can’t get a grip on the acceleration of my heart and the spine-tingling rush of adrenaline that thunders around my body. I’m terrified. Absolutely terrified. Especially when the sound of the Saviour’s engine whips up alongside us on our left again, forcing Travis to veer right, back into the path of the lorry.
The lorry driver slams his brakes on, clearing a path for Travis. I don’twatch but feel the duck of his body as he dives into the opening space, making our escape. He doesn’t make it more than ten yards away from the other bike before he’s hot on our tail again.
Fuck. I don’t see a way out of this.
Just when I feel a constricting crush of panic in my chest, we’re surrounded by four more bikes, each one containing us, closing us in. The chaos of the club has finally caught up with him. The outlaw war which dominates their existence, intensifies to a head.
I sob, my stray tears hidden behind my helmet as I press myself as hard as I can to Travis’ back, holding onto him with everything I’ve got left. We’re outnumbered five to one.
We don’t stand a chance.
A bike moves in, forcing my terrified body to turn rigid, unable to do anything as he moves closer to my side, the side box on his bike so close to us, I’m amazed it doesn’t hit me.
Wait.
The side box!
