Page 33 of Twisted Hearts

18Megan

The questionof whether Aaron cared for me or not had been answered completely. After what I’d pulled with him and his MC, he should have killed me, but he hadn’t. He’d had several opportunities to put a bullet in my brain, but he’d held back and stopped himself from doing to me what he would have easily done to someone else.

However, there was one question that lingered in the back of my mind. Would Aaron have killed me if he hadn’t inadvertently sent my mind into a frozen frenzy? If he hadn’t witnessed my breakdown, would I still be alive? I’d like to believe so, but I believed that Aaron and I were of like minds; unpredictable, complicated, and twisted in a way that we’d never be fully understood.

I’d been in such a distressed state when I thought he’d killed Beverly and Laura that my mind had gone into the black, retreating to that place that I hoped would save me from the heartache and pain. Instead, I was shoved so far into my despair that I couldn’t figure out how to release myself from it.

This episode marked the second time in my life that I had fallen into this unchartered state where the darkness devoured my mind and left me helpless. My rape and the news of my friends’ deaths had been an overpowering blast that had jolted my mind, sending it plunging into the darkness.

What did it mean that I hadn’t retreated into this dark place when my husband had died? It didn’t mean that I didn’t love him. He’d been one of the people who’d entered my life who I would have done anything for. Maybe I’d been relieved that I hadn’t been the reason for his death.

In the case of Carlos, my mind reached into its deepest darkest corners and all I thought about was the many ways I wanted to kill and torture him. In the case of Beverly and Laura, all I saw was the endless ways Aaron, the man I believe I’d fallen for, had brutally murdered them. I didn’t understand why my mind reacted to situations in the way that it did, so I couldn’t explain myself to Aaron or anyone else for that matter.

It was only when Aaron revealed that he hadn’t harmed my friends that I’d found my way out of my own mind. Aaron had no idea he’d likely saved me from myself by figuring out what had triggered me. He had metaphysically thrown a rope into the darkness and dragged me back to the right frame of mind. Or maybe my mind had released me. I didn’t understand it and doubted the doctors that claimed to know the human mind could understand it either.

We had slept in the same bed together for the past five nights and hadn’t had sex. Aaron hadn’t bothered me for it since my breakdown, which was proof that he cared enough to hold back when I knew he wanted it. I wanted it too, but my mind wouldn’t allow me the freedom I needed to go there with him.

My lips twitched at the thought of some of the epic sex scenes we’d created together. If Aaron wanted it, mind still gone or not, he could get it.

While glancing out of the kitchen window as I stood over the sink, I watched wide leaves dance against a slow breeze as the clouds hung low in the sky insinuating rain. If there was one thing I’d learned about Florida, the weather couldn’t be predicted off looks alone.

Aaron wanted to get me out of the house. Maybe getting out would do me some good since my brain kept limping back to the darkness that clung to my mind and tugged at my soul.

* * *

Aaron drovein silence and although I stared out the window, I could feel his eyes on me. He had been attentive to me and careful. The curious glint in his eyes and his paused stares told me he wanted to know more about my past and about why I’d sought out his MC. He had a right to know the answers to his questions, but I wasn’t sure how much of my past I should share with him. There was so much I hadn’t told him about yet. I didn’t know how to tell him some things. Some I could never tell him.

His hand landed softly atop my jean-covered thigh. I wore jeans and a tank under one of his long-sleeve black pull-over shirts. He’d been kind enough to help me into the shirt, which was large enough on me to be a jacket. Although the temperature was warm, I knew enough to know that the shirt would provide some protection against road rash if things went bad during our ride.

“Not much further. Are you ready?” he asked me, squeezing my thigh.

I sat higher in the seat to take in our surroundings. “Yes,” I answered, nodding. I was starting to feel good about his suggestion of getting out of the house.

Occasionally, I’d caught stunning glimpses and scenes of water peeking from between the branches of the tree-lined highway as we traveled closer to the coastline. The interstate signs had periodically indicated that we were headed towards Pensacola Beach, so the beautiful ocean view coming into focus had to have been of the Gulf of Mexico.

I inched my window all the way down and leaned into the sun-kissed breeze. I couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of the beach or any large body of water because they represented freedom to me. They were massive bodies, so open, so awe-inspiring, and no matter how much we invaded them, they would never be fully explored. Their goal was to supply us with an escape and respite from our everyday stresses and that was exactly what the beach did for me.

The crunch of small rocks under the tires became more distinct once Aaron slowed his truck down and turned into what I assumed was a parking area. He pulled into a slot, parking along a strip of paved land that had been built between the highway and the ocean and served as a parking station for visitors. A few feet away from the parking space was an iron railing that kept visitors from falling over a steep one-story drop onto the bed of the sandy beach below.

I was up and out of the truck before Aaron. Anticipation and excitement coursed through me, filling in the dark spaces that had taken over my mind. My tennis shoes scraped the paved ground as I made my way around the front of the truck towards the railing to get a better view of the peaceful scene that surrounded us.

Directly in front of me was the warm, welcoming ocean dancing against the skyline. To the left was an endless patch of trees that stood parallel to the ocean but far enough away that it left an opening for a sandy-topped haven that beach goers trekked across. There weren’t any trees to the right of us, which provided a wider area for vacationers and people to enjoy the beach. Some people sunbathed, while others relaxed on towels, chairs, and under umbrellas.

It was hard to pick out distinct conversations, but the cheers of happiness and the excitement in people’s voices couldn’t be missed. Some swam and played water games, built sand castles, and one group had a beach volley ball game going. Jet skiers could be seen further out in the water as they zoomed by, the hum of their engines revving as they enjoyed the high-powered excitement.

I leaned over the railing, my body relaxing automatically as I vaguely heard Aaron at the back of his truck unloading his motorcycle. He’d chosen to bring his Harley because he said he enjoyed it best for cruising the coast or for long drives. I didn’t know anything about motorcycles, so I had no clue as to what was best.

Reluctantly, I stepped away from the view that continued to call me and approached the back of the truck. Aaron had already taken the huge motorcycle down and had started to collapse what looked like a portable metal ramp. Red and black with shiny silver pipes running all over the place, the motorcycle was a beautiful piece of machinery.

Aaron closed and secured his truck as I continued to admire the bike. At an angle, I could see flames in the shiny red paint as well as in certain areas of the black paint. I was starting to understand why some men admired their motorcycles and bragged about how good they looked and sounded.

When I worked for Aaron’s MC, it wasn’t lost on me that some of the men treated their bikes better than they treated their women. I bent to a stooping position, taking in the pipes of Aaron’s bike and other parts I’d never known the names of.

For such a tall well-built man, Aaron had a stride so light and stealth like he could sneak up on his own shadow. When I rose to stand, he was standing next to me handing me one of the shiny black helmets he held. The helmet was made to cover only the top of my head with a strap that buckled under my chin.

“Thanks,” I said as I took the helmet and glanced up at Aaron who was adjusting his own over his head. Once I set it in place, my helmet swallowed my head as I copied Aaron and attempted to strap it on.

Aaron beckoned me closer when he noticed the chin-strap giving me trouble. My gaze roamed his body as he adjusted my strap. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt like mine. His cut was displayed over the shirt. The heavy-looking black leather vest bore his MC’s patches with a distinct patch that labeled him, Enforcer. I watched his muscles bulge underneath the black shirt as he secured the helmet on my head.

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