Madison
A couple of hours later, I woke to the sound of J speaking in a hushed tone on his phone. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me, running a hand through his hair. I admired his back and the way his muscles rippled as his arm moved. And the Storm tattoo that I had grown up with and knew so well from my father; it held so much meaning to me. I sighed. I was home; J was home, and Storm was home.
J finished his call and stood up. He gave me a quick glance as he walked towards his bathroom; but no smile, just a serious, focused look.
Shit.
My insecurities flared up. Was he having second thoughts about us? Even after the “your pussy is mine” speech?
I got up and quickly dressed. I felt the need to be dressed if he was going to reject me now.
He came out of the bathroom and abruptly stopped when he took in my state of dress. “What the fuck, Madison? I thought we had this sorted. Why are you leaving?”
“I thought -” I stuttered and he shook his head, looking really annoyed now.
“Stop fucking analysing shit.” He came to me and cupped my cheek, grazing my lips with his thumb. “I told you where I stand. What I want. Take that in, babe, and know it. Feel it. But you’ve gotta fucking stop over thinking everything ‘cause there’s gonna be times where I might not make sense and things might get messy. I need you to have faith in me, in us. Yeah?”
Shit. I was a neurotic bitch. Note to self, calm that shit down. “Yeah. But it might take me some time to get there so I need you to work with that. Okay?”
He nodded, “Done,” he replied, and then smacked me on the ass, “Now, we’ve got to get to the clubhouse. Marcus is pissed at me, something about wanting to make sure you’re okay, and then we’ve got some club business to deal with.”
I was about to come back with a smartass reply regarding my father, but then I remembered the conversation with my mum today. I had opened my heart to J; perhaps it was time to give my father another chance.
Fifteen minutes later we walked into the clubhouse and J left me at the bar to go in search of Marcus. The bar was full of club members who appeared to be celebrating something, most likely Nix’s death. Yeah, that was something to fucking celebrate. I smiled at them to let them know I was okay and went to find my Mum.
She was in the kitchen making food, for what I was now guessing was a full blown party, judging by the amount of food she had in there. “Hey, honey,” she stopped what she was doing and searched my face, “You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, and you?”
She waved her hand at me in a dismissive motion, “You know me, nothing fazes me.” Yep, that was true. My mother was unflappable; a tough bitch who could get through any situation.
“Do you need help with all this food?” I asked, changing the conversation. I hated discussing my feelings; better just to get on and deal with it yourself rather than whining to anyone who would listen.
“Thanks, honey,” she answered and for the next hour we worked together, getting all the boys and their families fed. News of Nix’s demise had spread fast, and loved ones had shown up to celebrate the end of the club’s battle with him. From what people told me it had been a long, hard two years here since I had left. The club had put a lot of work into bringing him down and everyone was glad to see the end of this episode.
Just as Mum and I were finishing up in the kitchen, J wandered in. He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “Your dad wants to see you, baby,” he said and the tenderness in his voice made my stomach flutter. J didn’t often do tender so it meant something to me; perhaps it indicated a change in the way he was approaching our new relationship.
I smiled up at him. “Where is he?” I asked, and he told me where to find him. “I won’t be long,” I promised, and gave him a quick kiss as I left the kitchen.
I found my father outside talking to some of the boys. He glanced up when he saw me coming, his jaw set, no smile in place, but I saw the relief that flickered across his face in that moment and noted his shoulders settle out of their tense hold.
“Madison,” he addressed me, and waved the boys away so we could have some privacy.
He exuded an agitated vibe and I didn’t want a confrontation tonight so I silently waited for him to continue, not wanting to say something that might set him off. When dealing with Marcus Cole it was best to let him do most of the talking.
“You’re okay,” he nodded, and it was more of a statement than a question, like he was reassuring himself.
“Yes, Dad, I’m okay,” I confirmed.