Page 14 of Odin
While Crow drove us back to the clubhouse, they churned in my brain. Not even the throbbing of the fresh tattoo on my hip could provide enough pain to distract my overstimulated brain.
Tarynn waited in the kitchen with me while Crow and Odin talked to Tyrant and whoever else had to be involved in the decision of me staying here overnight. She seemed to sense that I needed quiet, and instead of talking with me like she did all throughout the tattoo, she just poured me a glass of water and sat quietly with me at the table.
I’m no coward. I don’t need to be distracted from my own mind. I don’t want that to be me, constantly running from feeling. I have to process this. I have to let it sink in. It’s the only way that I can properly move forward, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.
It’s an endless cycle of rejection. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with my relationship? I still want quantifiers. How long. How many times? Where? All of thatjust makes me angry, but ultimately, it makes me hollow. I feel drained and exhausted going over it. I need to stop. It’s not going to change anything. I’ll never be able to forgive either of them if I keep thinking useless thoughts that I seriously don’t even want answered.
There’s nothing I can do except start making plans for tomorrow. Find a college that offers veterinary medicine and try to get in next year. Maybe there’s still some hope, somewhere, that I can apply late. Once I find that, I can figure out the rest.
It’s overwhelming.It’s physically and mentally exhausting.My body and my mind have both had enough.
I’d been sitting with my thoughts for too long when Crow and Odin came back to the kitchen. Crow gathered up Tarynn, literally swinging her into his arms dramatically. She was all giggles, waving me off and wishing me a good night, promising to come back for me in the morning.
My first new friend.
Odin walked me down the hallway to the back of the club where long lines of closed doors are located. It’s a little bit like a hotel, but decidedlynot. Odin said that each man gets a room, whether they live full time at the clubhouse or not. That surprised me. I didn’t even know that was possible. I thought this was more a hangout spot. I guess it does make sense. He said that not many of the guys live exclusively here anymore, but he does.
Odin stands behind me in the doorway of the spare room that’s mine for the night, his massive presence both a comfort, and a shadow of something that still makes that animal part of my body thrum with adrenaline.
It’s after four in the morning, so the clubhouse is pretty quiet. Soft thumps of the bass from music left playing still echo through the club, but even when we got back, the rowdier voices that drifted all the way to the back hallways earlier were absent.
The room is small, but not tiny, and austere, but only because no one has bothered with more than just the basics. A double bed made up neatly, a small wood nightstand, and a lamp. It’s incredibly clean, and I like the vibes that the brick walls and the heavy beams and exposed ductwork in the ceiling give off. The beat up hardwood floors, original to the building, are something that I know a lot of people try and reproduce and put in their houses, but it never looks quite right.
Odin clears his throat from the doorway. “I know it’s kind of sparse. These rooms hardly ever get used.” I turn around to find him looking so much younger, almost childlike, in his eagerness to ensure that I’m alright. He’s a natural protector. I wonder if he even knows that. “Can I get you anything? An extra blanket? A glass of water?”
I brought my glass with me from the kitchen, and I incline my head pointedly at my hand clenched around it. “I’ll be okay.” Unfortunately, my voice cracks with more than just a lack of sleep.
Odin’s dark brows immediately crash together. Anyone in their right mind would be terrified of his black scowl, but I guess I’m not in my right anything.
Maybe I’m an idiot who has completely lost any and all sense of proper direction.
Most of the shit going down in my life would point to that being true.
I walk over to the bed and plop down, my hand hovering near my face to sweep my hair behind my ear. I stop myself, not wanting to give away my nerves. Odin is the strong, quiet, observant type. He’s probably made a mental list of all my tells by now.
Why does that make my stomach flutter?
“I’m just overwhelmed. I really never saw myself leaving LA. Even when we had no money, we never moved out of the state. I thought I’d be a Cali girl for life.”
“You could go back.”
“I know. I know I could.” I glance back up. The scowl has eased, but the worry on his face is evident. For a big, scary, biker badass, he’s surprisinglyokaywith revealing his emotions. It’s sorefreshingto meet someone who doesn’t wear a constant mask. “Do you ever look back on your life and just think…what the fuck? You thought you knew something, but really, you were just going through the motions?”
He grunts in understanding, crossing his arms and widening his stance like he’s about to tackle anything that could come through the open door, or anything in the room with us already. My massive heaping of near paralyzing self-doubt for example.
When did that even start? When did I stop listening to myself? When did I stop wanting to be heard by everyone else as well? I thought I had all this depth, but now I look back, and all I see is crap that never went beyond the surface. How did I fail to realize how lonely I was all this time? It’s all hittinghard. I’m so tired and so wired at the same time. The Dutch courage I had earlier on from the whiskey is long gone.
I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them, peeking at Odin over my knees. “Sorry. I’m just being… I don’t know. Dramatic. You’ve done so much for me tonight. You weren’t obligated from the start, but you’ve absolutely done far more than enough. I’ll be okay.”
That stance doesn’t falter. If anything, his jaw sets in an even harder, more stubborn line. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
“Oh. Oh, god. No.” I unfold ungracefully, my legs shooting down the side of the bed, my hands waving awkwardly as I try to speak with them for emphasis. “I didn’t mean that I’m going to do something stupid.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Are you offering to just keep guard all night in this perfectly safe building? Or sleep beside me on this bed so that IknowI’m not alone?” Convincing him that I’m all good isn’t going to be an easy task. I might be here until morning, and that would defeat the purpose. “Because other than that, there isn’t a lot of furniture for other options in here.”
“I thought that you could take my room.”
