Tyson

It hasn’t escaped my attention that Hemmi is spiraling into a pit of depression. While I was out, I placed a call to Pops. We discussed it and have decided to get a therapist that’ll be beholden to us. He’s going to do some research and send Marco to pay him a visit.

As I walked up on the porch, I saw Hemmi walking toward the kids’ bedroom, so I quietly enter, and walk behind her. My intent is to help lift them from their crib if she needs me to. She may have her poker face on around me, but I can see the affliction of pain still hits her sometimes. I’m not blinded by her falsity.

When she berates herself, a flash from the past invades my mind, her words familiar ones I heard from Amara when she was emotionally drained.

“That’s good to hear. They’ve taken enough from you, Hemmi. Don’t give them anything else. You’re an amazing woman and mother. This world would be bleak without you. If you ever think you can’t resist the tug of death calling you, come get me,” I insist, not beating around the bush.

I know what she’s thinking, what’s been rumbling around in her head, because I lived through it once before. With Amara, I lowered my defenses. I honestly thought she had a handle on the things she survived and was stronger than the call of the Reaper. I won’t be making that mistake with Hemmingway. If anything, I’ll fight until my last breath is drawn to make sure she beats that inhibition.

My nemesis may wield a scythe, and eat souls, but I carry a gun that I’m not afraid to use.

“I’m good, Tyson. I won’t do anything foolish. I swear. I have something important to live for, don’t I?” She peers down at the kids who have quieted down. Not sure if that’s because they’ve gotten our attention, or if it’s because the two worship and adore their mother. Or it could be a combination of it all.

“You do. More than just them, though. You know that, right? Your brother, Aspen, their kids, the club, me.” I gurgle when I hit myself, because I’ve done everything within my power to keep my feelings to myself. It’s not fair to put that on Hemmi’s shoulders. She shouldn’t have to dissect what she wants from what she needs. I’m not dumb enough to think I’d be good for her. If anything, I’d be a hindrance. I can’t become docile because it’s what’s best for her. I’m gruff and rowdy on the inside as well as the outside.

“You?” she asks, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I was beginning to think you didn’t care what happened to me. That you don’t even like me. You’re just tolerating me for my brother, by being a good soldier and falling into line, taking care of club business by keeping me safe.”

I balk and then wince when she says this. If I were in her shoes, with the way I’ve been acting toward her recently, I’d presume the same thing. Hanging my head, I admit, “You’re not in a mental or emotional place to deal with me, Hemmi. I’m fucked up. What you don’t know, is that not that long ago, I lost a woman I believed I’d be with. She couldn’t handle the pain. She went through something close to what you did, only she didn’t fight. She caved and jumped off the top of a building, ending her life. I’ll deal with that for the rest of my life. When these feelings for you started to surface, I stepped back to not only protect me, but you, too.”

“If you ever want to talk about her, I’m here. I’ve been told I’m a damn good listener. However, I’m not sure I’ll be ready any time soon for anything intimate. Relationships that go beyond a platonic friendship scares the bejesus outta me, Tyson. But I’ll admit, I do need you. Whatever that entails, and whatever capacity you are comfortable with, is okay with me, as long as we have some boundaries. It’s your silence and distance that has infused thoughts that I’d rather not think.”

“What did I make you think, Hemmi?”

Again, she wets her lips before answering. “That you don’t think I’m good enough. That I’m too damaged to be worth your time and that you can’t wait to get rid of me.”

My chest caves in when her admittance resounds in my ears. Stepping forward, I cup her chin in my hands and force her head upward. “Nothing could be further from the truth. Seems like we both have a mountain of issues to work through. I’m willing to put in the extra effort if you are.”

“I’d like to feel like me again, Tyson. I don’t care for the self-deprecation I’ve been pondering or the solution my mind swears will ease the burden. I’ve never been afraid of hard work. Where do we begin?”

“With someone who’s trained, Hemmi. Pops is looking for someone as we speak to hire. They’ll come here and shrink us, help us find alternative ways to deal with what we’ve been through, and hopefully, we’ll come out the other side better than we were. What do you say? Wanna take this journey with me?”

“As long as nobody tries to shrink me.” She giggles, making fun of my terminology. “I’m short enough as it is. Being five-foot six-inches tall makes me a midget compared to you. On a more serious note, I’ll take the road less traveled, especially if you’re going to be at my side and encouraging me to not yield.”

“From here on out, that’s the only place you’ll find me, Hemmi. It’ll take a crowbar to pry me away. I’ll be stuck to you like white on rice. Think you can deal with that?”

“Yeah,” she breathlessly replies. “I’m pretty sure I saw a crowbar underneath the back seat of the truck.” She winks at me, and I’m not sure if it’s my optimism, but I swear I see a flash of the confident woman she was before the Aarons entered her life. “Plus, rice can be brown too, so it’s plausible that you won’t be too much of a menace.”

“I’ll look and make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you when I unload our groceries. But I think those little wiggle worms are fixing to let loose and scream the roof down since you’re not paying them the attention they crave.” I don’t touch her menace comment, because she’s going to be surprised and annoyed when she discovers that I’m a man of my word, and an immovable force to reckon with. I’m as stubborn as a mule, and will fight for what I want. Tight now, that’s to be as close to her as humanly possible.

As if to prove my point, Honor starts wailing, and Haven, not willing to be outdone by her brother, releases a cringeworthy pitch that has me tucking my tail, and scurrying from the room.

“Coward!” Hemmi screams out at me.

I don’t rebut her words, they’re factual. But I’ll never admit my defeat aloud which is why I choose to pretend like I didn’t hear her insult and continue on with my mission.

* * *

Dr. Sylvia Sheraton has been a godsend. For the last six weeks, we’ve had fierce and profound therapy sessions with her, here at the cabin. Some of those have been solo discussions, others have been dual meetings with Hemmi and me.

During all of this, I’ve made weekly visits to Frankfuck and his boy, Miller. Sometimes, it’s only once, others, it’s been three or four, depending on what I learn. After every chat with the doc, I take my rage out on them. Every single time Hemmingway peels away another layer of her story, I unleash my repressed anger out on them. It’s been therapeutic and has let me release my inner beast’s need for vengeance.

The Aarons aren’t in good shape. As a matter of fact, without their wounds getting medically treated, they’re going downhill fast. Marco, The Cleaner, has flipped the coin, and instead of mopping up Pops’ messes, he’s become the torturer. I’ve heard stories about him, and how he wasn’t to be crossed. It’s well-known that he can be intimidating, and have people pissing their pants from one of his foreboding sneers. We all have a little sadist inside of us, but Marco’s callous reputation is nothing compared to seeing his work firsthand. He’s been exceptionally ingenious when it comes to getting the two jackasses to divulge their subterfuges—and there have been many.

Their distorted lifestyle isn’t a new thing that’s stemmed from them and their warped, narcissistic ego. From what we’ve managed to uncover, some from our two guests, but also through extensive research, this cultured mentality of theirs goes back generations.

Once we have documented proof of each one of their crimes, ones where they’ve crossed the line and broken the law, we leak it to the press, not trusting the government officials to take care of business. This has been the route we chose to use after we unearthed that some of their acquaintances, who have the same ideological beliefs and actively live the same lifestyle as the Aarons, goes as high as the White House.

During one of my private chats with Dr. Sheraton, with Pops’ encouragement, I gave her some inside information. I didn’t share that we had the two men in our custody, but I did tell her about everything we’ve uprooted, and how we need Hemmi to go public and tell things from her side and publicize her experience with the Admiral and Miller. For one, it’ll get her name removed from the AWOL list, and for two, it’ll be another strike against the duo. Doc wanted more time with Hemmi before coming up with a way for her to do this without my girl backtracking in the progress they’ve made.

I agreed, of course I did. Nothing is more important than Hemmi’s mental well-being. She’s made strides over the weeks, jumped a lot of hurdles, and some of her spark has come back. Her eyes are no longer dull. Her smiles are becoming more genuine, and her laughter has become lyrical. With each one of those triumphs, we’ve celebrated. She and I have grown closer. We’ve pulverized some of our self-preservation barriers and have been testing the restrictions of the boundaries we set.

Tonight, Pops has paid a substantial amount of money and has bought all the seats from a local restaurant, closing it to the general population. Because he managed this deed, I’m taking Hemmingway and the twins out for a dinner date. She set out clothes for the twins then left me alone with them so she can get dolled up. Since I’ve become an expert at changing soiled diapers, I’m getting them ready for the night out on the town since I’m already dressed.

As soon as the last sock goes on Honor’s foot, his mother comes strolling out of her bedroom, and my mouth salivates as soon as my eyes scan over what she’s wearing. It’s been a long time since I’ve been rendered speechless, but as I take her in, I’ve become mute.

“You’re making me nervous, here, Tyson. I’m not sure how to take your silence,” she rushes out, bashfully shifting on her feet, and chewing on that succulent bottom lip of hers. It’s a damn shame that I find myself jealous of her teeth as they get the luxury of doing what I want most, getting a taste of her rich flavor.

“I’m trying to think of something I can say that’s gentlemanly,” I confess. My resolve of holding back has been frayed, and I have a hard time keeping up the charade of being chivalrous. “Because right now, looking at you and how alluring you are, all I want to do is sink to my knees and get a sample of your honeyed sweetness. I want it coating my beard and soaking my tongue.”

She apprehensively giggles, but her face relaxes. She stops the unrelenting gnawing, giving me a breather from the growing desperation to pounce, and devour her lips myself. We may have defeated some of our ghosts, but neither one of us is ready to go where I want us to.

Sex with her needs to be more than easing stress and finding a release. That can be found on any street corner. My girl deserves patience, care, and romance—something I’m not sure I’m capable of yet.

“Ready to get out of here?” I ask, breaking the silent stare off we’ve been having since I laid my wants on the table.

“Yes. Let’s do this,” she answers, her unconditional faith in me shining in her eyes, giving me the herculean strength to move mountains.

As soon as my wallet’s placed in the back of my jeans, and I have their bag in tow, and she has her purse strapped across her shoulder, I reach down and pick up Honor and she lifts Haven. We carry them out, lock up the house, and get settled in the truck. We drive to the restaurant with our fingers laced together over the middle armrest. This is something new she’s become comfortable with. I’m smart enough not to bring it up, and take the gift for what it is—a fresh beginning, as well as trust.

We’re both seeing signs of who we used to be, and it feels damn good.