Page 49 of Spyder
“I really appreciate that. More than you know,” I say to her.
A rueful grin crosses my lips. Stressed probably isn’t even close to the right word that would describe how I was feeling when I called her this morning. I wanted to call her last night, but by the time we got back to the compound, it was a little too late. I figured she’d already be asleep, and I didn’t want to wake her.
Last night, after the shoot-out with Zavala’s guys, I was fired up. Calling it excited would be an understatement. It was a primal energy coursing through me. It was way more intense than a simple adrenaline rush, and now I understand why some guys are almost, for lack of a better word, giddy after a battle. To have bullets flying everywhere and staring death in the face like we did and walking away from it? There is no alcohol or drug that could have had me flying higher. Seriously, there is no chemically manufactured high better than what I felt after last night’s firefight.
I thought that seeing her would help settle my nerves and calm me down. She’s got that kind of effect on me, and what trips me out is that it’s so effortless on her part. It’s like she’s not even trying or as if she’s totally unaware of it. Just being around her makes me feel peaceful. I like that about her. A lot.
“So what was going on? What had you so wound up?” she asks.
“Does something have to be going on for me to want to see you?” I reply.
I flash her what I hope is a disarming smile, feeling caught between my loyalty to the club and keeping their secrets and not wanting to withhold from Bellamy. She deserves better than that, and I don’t want our relationship to be built on a foundation of deception or even lies of omission. At the same time though, what we’ve got going on right now is intense as hell and is likely only going to get worse for a while, and there’s a part of me that fears what she’ll think or say about it. Even worse, what she’d do if I told her we’re at war with a cartel.
“Very smooth answer, but I could tell that there was something going on with you. Something that had you… in a state,” she presses.
“A state?” I reply with a chuckle.
She arches an eyebrow at me. “You know, they say when people are trying to dodge a question, they ask a question of their own instead of answering.”
“Oh, do they?”
She squeals with laughter and throws her napkin at me. “You are impossible.”
“So you keep saying.”
The sound of her mother coughing in the back room drifts out to us, and I see a shadow cross Bellamy’s face as her smile slips.
“How’s she doing?” I ask.
She shrugs. “She’s doing about as well as can be expected, I suppose,” she answers. “She’s still sharp and sarcastic as hell, so I take that as a good sign.”
“That must be where you get it from.”
Bellamy laughs softly. “So I’ve been told,” she says as she gets to her feet. “I should go and check on her.”
“I’ll be here.”
Her smile is wan as she turns and heads out of the dining room, leaving me alone with a full belly and a mind racing with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about dessert. Knowing that might not be on the menu tonight given her mother’s health, I try to rein it in. Instead, I get to my feet and clear the table, carrying all of the dishes into the kitchen. With some time on my hands, I load the dishwasher and hunt around for some containers to put the leftovers in. I’m just putting the last plastic box into the refrigerator when Bellamy steps into the kitchen behind me.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “I was going to get to them.”
I shrug. “You cooked. You shouldn’t have to clean up too,” I tell her. “How’s your mom doing?”
Bellamy nods. “All right. I gave her some meds to help her sleep. She’ll probably be out cold the rest of the night.”
She walks over and pulls me into a tight embrace. I hold her, running my fingers through her hair and feel the tension in her body. She lays her head on my chest and we stand together in silence like that for a long while. She seems to need the physical contact and perhaps some reassurance right now.
“You okay?” I whisper.
She nods. “I’m just scared. I mean, I know she and I didn’t talk for a long while, but I’ve never actually imagined my life without my mom,” she says quietly. “And now, I feel guilty as hell for all the years I wasted being mad at her.”
I stroke her hair gently. “All that matters is that you’re here now. You’re with her when it matters the most,” I tell her. “And that you’re able to spend time with her. I’m sure that means more to her than anything.”
She’s quiet for a moment then nods again. “I know. It’s just… I hate this. That I’m only here now, at the end.”
“Don’t think of it like that, Bell. Just think of it as you’re here with her now and you have a chance to build some good memories that you’ll have forever.”
She looks up at me, an amused smile curling her lips. “And when did you get to be the soft and sentimental type?”
