Page 14 of Straight to Me

Nothing we hate more than someone who abuses children. If I had my way, I’d kill 'em all.

I didn’t mean for Mads to realise I’d used her, or that I had intended too initially anyway. My brothers see her as a bit of skirt on my shoulder. Just doing my VP duties to them. Little do they know I’ve actually fallen for this one. One that just so happens to have family in my neck of the woods.

Fuck.When did I start to sound like such a soft bastard?

But our kiss.

Taking what could have been my only opportunity, I kissed her. There wasn’t the time for the right words to explain to her what was going on. I just trusted my instincts, hoping and knowing her body would react the way I needed it to. With such little time to spare, she needed to know she meant something to me.

When we were spotted in the trees, she did exactly what I asked. I felt guilty for that, but I was right. The police didn’t come in as heavy handed as they normally do. Although, seeing her cuffed made my blood boil. I couldn’t take my eyes off her suddenly. Rage was burning inside.

And then there was something else burning. A deep knocking in my chest, overshadowing the rage and taming it. Her dark eyes caught mine before she was taken away. I couldn’t outright say anything, but I needed her to know how devoted I was to keeping her. And if a single look could speak a thousand words, I hope it was that last one I gave her.

Chapter Seven

Being released from the police van left me with mixed emotions. I should have been relieved that the tactical unit could clearly discern my lack of association with the outlaws. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered what anybody there was actually doing wrong to warrant such a big police presence? People were happy. Families played together. Hell, there was more harmless happiness at that place than I’d been around for months.

Two riot vans house people from the scene. I presume VP is in the back of the other. His bike remains docked in the long row with the helmet he’d given me still on the back seat of his bike.

I can’t help feeling sad I won’t get to wear it again. I won’t be able to be close to him or smell him again like I’d envisioned. As tears start to swell in my eyes, a police officer politely coughs behind me, drawing my attention to her. “You can leave Miss,” she says.

I hug my arms around me and look down feeling embarrassed by everything that’s happened this morning. “You got someone who can pick you up?”

Yeah, Bex. She’ll come. If I can summon the balls to call her. How would I explain this shit show to her? Nodding politely to the officer, I’m soon left on my own to make my call.

Ten minutes later, Bex arrives looking horrified. At the same time, she looks almost intrigued at the scene around her, like she’s proud that I’m wrapped up in a bit of drama for once. She doesn’t say anything though as I walk over to her car. She knows I’ll dish the details soon enough.

I open the car door and slump into the passenger seat. We share a moment of silence before she simply starts the engine, pulling slowly out of the car park. I’m grateful she isn’t pressing me straight away.

My heart screams to look round, to take one last chance to glimpse VP. My head quietly tells me to leave it.Move on. He’s a stranger.Yes, where he lives is a little surprising, and he made you feel things you’ve never felt, made you act in a way you’ve never acted, but what kind of life would you have with an outlaw?

My heart wins. But he’s nowhere in sight.

Sleep that I desperately needed didn’t come last night. A constant cycle of tossing, turning and crying was all I could manage.

Crying for I don’t know what real reason.

I’d been stupid, letting my feelings for a man I don't know get the better of me and potentially ruin my career. My mind continuously raced with questions; had he been arrested? Was he okay? Was meeting him a sign? Would he be thinking of me? I'd decide no, then cry again.

I lay in bed for most of the day, only getting off my arse to use the loo and make cups of tea. Lifting my phone for the first time today, I find a message from Jess waits for me.

Jess: Did you have a good night out Friday? I don’t want you to let this bother you, but have you seen Chris’s socials lately? He’s having a baby with that Sofia from Phillip’s office. I’m here if you want to chat, just let me know x

What? Unable to look away, I read and reread the message for what feels like a thousand times before my world crumbles around me. I thought it had crumbled when Chris left me, then again when the divorce papers arrived so quickly, but this, this is next level paralysis.

My stomach twists violently. Bile rises to my mouth causing me to retch. Wave after wave of dry heaving leaves me exhausted, with tears fully flowing down my face.

Once it subsides, my body unable to heave anymore, I settle myself on the edge of my bed. I snatch my phone off the side and open my social media app. I go to the search bar and find Chris’s public profile. I unfollowed him when he left, not wanting to see what he was up to, and clearly that was the right thing to do.

Not needing to scroll far I find the dreaded picture that confirms Jess’s message. With a smile on his face, Chris has his arm wrapped around the beautiful, pregnant, Sofia Erikson.

I’d only met her once at a Christmas party hosted by Philip and June. The two had ignored me all night but showboated her like she was the best bloody thing since sliced bread. I got so drunk, I ended up calling Jess, crying down the phone about how I felt constantly compared to her. She hadn’t actually done anything for me to dislike her, it was just Chris didn’t stand up for me to his parents. Instead, he brushed off his parents’ behaviour as nothing, like I was overreacting.

Her long golden hair is beautifully curled in the image. Her obvious beauty is effortless, that much is clear. Her tummy protrudes in the photo. For a nano second, I admire how beautiful she looks as she cradlestheirunborn baby. But something isn’t right about the picture in front of me.

I look at him, then to her. Then it hits me like a smack in the face. She’s clearly much further along than the three months Chris and I have been separated.That motherfucker!

All those Friday evenings I spent waiting for him to come home and he was always late. No wonder he would never wake me when he would come in and find me out cold on the sofa those nights. He’d already had his, he didn’t need me.

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