Own the Wind

Chapter Two

Waking Up in His Arms

Six weeks later…

The bell to my apartment rang and, standing in front of my mirror in the bathroom, I jumped.

Dad and Tyra were there to take me to the hog roast.

It was time, according to Dad, that I got back into life. I wasn’t so sure but Dad was, and when Dad was sure about something, well… you got yourself together and hauled yourself to a hog roast.

I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing my hair out to there, more makeup than I usually wore, a sweet long-sleeved Harley tee I bought just last weekend, the first I’d bought or worn in ages, faded jeans that fit great, and a fabulous belt. I couldn’t see them in the mirror but I also had on high, spike-heeled boots that I usually wore under smart skirts.

Nice.

Stupid!

I looked awesome, so awesome even I could say I looked awesome.

It was still stupid.

The bell rang again and there was a knock following it but I couldn’t move. I just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror, wondering what the hell I was doing.

I heard the door open and I knew Tyra had used her key.

“Tabby, honey, are you here?” I heard her call, and I tried to get my feet to move but I just stood, frozen in front of the mirror. “Tab, you here?” she yelled.

She was closer, moving into my bedroom, I could tell.

My feet finally moved, taking me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

There she was, thick, lush, shining auburn hair and lots of it, great figure even after two kids, Tyra Allen, my friend, my saving grace years ago.

My stepmom.

The instant her green eyes hit me, they got wide and a smile spread on her gorgeous face.

“Wow, honey, you look great.”

See? I looked great.

I was still stupid.

I knew what she saw. For months, I went through the motions of life but I put no effort into it. I got up and went to work, came home, and tried to sleep. I hung with the family and pretended everything was fine but they knew it was all a show.

Especially Dad.

Kane Allen, known as Tack to everyone but Dad to me, was far from dumb, which was cool most of the time but wasn’t when I was trying to pull the wool, something which I never, not in my life, succeeded in doing with my Dad.

“I messed up,” I declared and watched Tyra blink.

“Pardon?” she asked.

“I messed up,” I repeated.

“How did you mess up?” she asked.

“I slept with Shy.”

She didn’t blink then. Her eyes got so wide I thought they’d bug out of her head.

She rallied quickly, stuck her hand in her back pocket and pulled out her phone. She jabbed it with her finger and put it to her ear.

“Tack, honey, go on without us,” she said into her phone. “Tabby and I’ll take her car and meet you there later.” She paused, then, “I don’t know yet, but she and I have to talk, and when we get things sorted out, we’ll meet you at Chaos.” Pause, then, “Handsome, I told you, I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out and we’ll sort it out, then we’ll meet you there.” Another pause with an eye roll, then, softer, “I got this, you know I do. We’ll meet you at the roast soon.”

Dad was worried, I could tell. This was not a surprise. He was the kind of dad who loved you so much he hurt when you hurt, and when you lost something precious he lost it right with you.

On that thought, I saw what I saw a lot when Tyra was talking to Dad.

Even though she dipped her chin and turned her head so I got her profile, I still saw Tyra’s face get soft before she said quietly, “Yeah. Will do. Love you.”

Then I saw something else I saw a lot when Tyra was talking to Dad: her face got softer and I knew Dad was telling her he loved her too.

Tyra was the bomb, so I was glad she had that from Dad and I was even more glad that she gave it to him.

She stabbed the screen on her phone, shoved it into her pocket and focused on me.

Then she asked, “You slept with Shy?”

I nodded but clarified, “Six weeks ago, but we slept-slept, not did the business slept.” Her brows went up so I further explained, “See, I was in a situation, he got me out of that situation, I asked him to get me drunk, he did, we played pool, we talked, we ended up in his bed, I sang him a song from Les Mis, then I passed out and woke up in his arms.”

Her head tipped to the side and her eyes grew sharp, and they did this about the time I stated I was in a situation.

As I said, my dad was far from dumb. Being really not dumb, for some reason I didn’t get, he married my mom, who was a lot closer to dumb than anyone I knew. However, being not dumb, Dad got shot of her and didn’t make the same mistake twice. Therefore, Tyra was also far from dumb, which also worked in my favor most of the time.

Sometimes, it did not.

I knew this was one of those times when she queried, “You were in a situation?”

I licked my lip and she watched.

Then she moved to the bed while motioning to it with her hand. “Right, talk to me.”

She sat on the bed, and I sat with her and commenced laying it out.

“Okay, well, what I’m going to say isn’t gonna make you happy but here it is. Six weeks ago I was out with Natalie.”

She bit her lip, her face went blank, and I got this.

Natalie Harbinger had been my best friend since forever. I went to college to be a nurse. Natalie went to the same college as me, but she went to party. She put a lot of effort in and therefore excelled at this endeavor to the point she got kicked out of college. She continued to do this and there was nothing wrong with that, except the longer she did it the iffier became the element she did it with.

People at our age started to grow up and get themselves sorted. If they didn’t, their lives started spiraling down a path that would mean they never got sorted.

Natalie didn’t grow up and get herself sorted.

I got this. Natalie’s mom was arguably a bigger bitch than mine. The problem was, Natalie didn’t have a dad who gave a crap and a stepmom who was the bomb. I understood doing stuff to get attention, even if it was bad attention, but for me that crap was over years ago. She just didn’t seem to be able to pull herself out of it.

Thus Tyra was not a big fan of Natalie’s, and even Dad, who was the president of a motorcycle club and essentially had a life motto of ‘live and let live,’ had issues with her. The short of the long of it was, they didn’t like me hanging with her.

Furthermore, Jason had hated her. Unfortunately, Natalie returned the favor. This put me in the middle, which was not a fun place to be. Jason was the kind of guy who pretty much laid it out if the situation warranted it, and he hated Natalie enough to lay it out. Natalie also wasn’t the kind of person to keep things buried, so she didn’t hesitate to share. This was not comfortable for me, but I was the kind of person who was growing up and getting my life sorted. I was also falling in love so, naturally, rather than making a choice (as such), I started spending less time with her and more time with Jason.

She took the time I could give her without too much bellyaching, and I worked at keeping our friendship close even as it changed with the different paths our lives were taking.

But when Jason died, she’d totally stepped up. She was there for me. She didn’t breathe a word against Jason and kept her other crap separate. It was all about taking my back.

Six weeks ago, I needed her to take my back a different way.

I was tired of no sleep. I was tired of the constant reminders that Jason wasn’t there and never again would be. I was tired of the empty feeling in my stomach that would hollow out further when some memory hit me or a wedding card from someone who hadn’t heard about Jason came through the mail or I got a phone call from someone Tyra didn’t know to contact about something to do with the life Jason and I were going to start.

I needed a release. I needed to go back in time when, for Natalie and me, it was all about fun and music and beer and talking and not about how life could go straight down the toilet.

I needed to forget. I needed to remember when life was different, when it was good.

When things went wrong, I called Shy because he wasn’t like the other guys. He didn’t know Jason and he didn’t like me. I figured, like any of my father’s brothers would do, he’d come get me, get me safe, and that would be it. He wouldn’t look at me with kind eyes, urge me to talk, or give me a gentle lecture about hanging with Natalie, and I didn’t need any of that. In fact, I went out with Nat in the first place to get away from that.

I’d programmed his number in when I got my new phone. I didn’t know why, didn’t think about why, I just did.

What I didn’t expect was that he would give me exactly what I needed, be totally cool about it and also unbelievably sweet.

“Six weeks ago you were out with Natalie,” Tyra prompted, and I focused on her.

“I just needed… I needed…” I trailed off, and Tyra reached out to squeeze my hand.

“I get what you needed,” she said softly then lifted her chin for me to continue, so I did.

“It being Natalie, I’m sure you’re not surprised that our company wasn’t great company.” The look on her face told me she wasn’t surprised, but she had no response, so I kept going. “I was a little freaked, I called Shy, he came and got me, and the rest happened as I told you. The problem is, Shy was awesome, really cool, and I slipped out while he was sleeping and haven’t seen him or talked to him in six weeks, which is not cool.”

“Not sure about the not talking for six weeks part, but Shy is awesome,” she declared, and I blinked.

“You think Shy’s awesome?” I asked in disbelief.

“I do, don’t you?” she asked.

“Uh… I don’t know him very well… or I didn’t,” I evaded.

“True, noticed that,” she murmured. “You’re tight with all the brothers but not Shy. Thought it was because of that huge crush you had on him ages ago but, whatever. Bottom line, he’s a good guy.”

Tyra didn’t know about what Shy did to me, no one did. I shared everything with Tyra but not what he’d done. I didn’t even tell Natalie about that, and I shared everything with her too.

That was how much it hurt.

I’d loved him. It was a young, faraway love, but sometimes that was the most intense kind, or it was when you’re young and you love someone from afar. He’d crushed me, so bad I couldn’t even reexperience it by sharing.

So I didn’t.

When I didn’t speak, Tyra did.

“I like him. Your dad likes and respects him. He’s great with your little brothers, he’s actually great with all the brothers’ kids. He’s smart. He’s funny. He works hard and he’s loyal. Your dad says that if Dog or Brick wanted to step down as his lieutenant, he’d ask Shy to step up.”

I stared at her because this shocked me. That was huge coming from Dad.

She kept talking. “Says he’s loyal to the Club in a way that the recruits who didn’t live through what the other brothers lived through when your dad was cleaning up the Club aren’t because they weren’t tested. They don’t know how to be. Shy is, though, according to Tack. Shy’s all about his brothers, the Club, the family, so I’m not surprised he took care of you, Tab. Any of the boys would do that for you, not just for your dad.” She grinned. “Though, not sure any of the boys would put up with you singing a song from Les Mis. That shows your dad is right. Shy’s more loyal than the rest if he put up with that.”

I rolled my eyes.

She ignored my eye roll and asked, “What’d you sing, ‘Master of the House’?”

I rolled my eyes back to her.

“ ‘I Dreamed a Dream,’ ” I answered, and her grin faded.

Dad had never seen Les Misérables. Dad would never see Les Misérables. Dad got a funny look on his face when I told him Jason was taking me to see Les Misérables. To Dad, a man taking his woman to a musical did not say good things. When I told him, he opened his mouth to say something, caught sight of a “smiling-so-big-I-knew-she-was-in-danger-of-laughing Tyra, fortunately shut his mouth, and said no more.

But Jason had a mother and three sisters who were into musicals in a big way. They dragged him with them and Jason went, but he did this under duress.

But not Les Mis.

“Sweetheart,” he’d said, “I saw The Pajama Game when I was eleven and had nightmares until I was fifteen. We won’t get into what Cats did to me. But Les Mis, Tab, everyone has to see that.”

It meant so much to him I went, and I had to admit I didn’t get it through the first act. Jason had decided I needed to “experience” it, so he didn’t tell me anything, and since they sang all the time, even the dialogue, I couldn’t catch it all and I had no idea what was going on. Luckily, there were some kick-butt songs, or the first act would have been wasted on me.

At intermission, Jason saw the error of his ways, filled me in, and the second act rocked my world.

Dad loved me, but he was never going to listen to musicals with me.

Tyra loved me, and she didn’t care about musicals, but she listened to it with me in my car all the time when we were off shopping or to lunch or whatever we did.

She’d heard “I Dreamed a Dream” lots.

She knew what I was saying.

“Oh, Tabby,” she whispered.

See?

I flopped to my back, stared at the ceiling then moved just my eyeballs to her to see she’d shifted closer and was resting on a hand in the bed beside me.

“It felt good,” I told her, and she smiled.

“Of course it felt good, honey. Shy’s a nice guy who took your back and listened to you sing a sad song. It was what you needed and he gave it to you.”

“No,” I whispered and held her eyes. “It felt good waking up in his arms.”

Her smile faded again.

“Oh, Tabby,” she repeated in a whisper, and I put my hands over my face.

From behind them I said, “It was messed up, crazy, wrong.” I pulled my hands away, looked into her troubled face, and let it all hang out. “It was wrong, Ty-Ty. It was… it was messed up. I forgot.”

“You forgot what, honey?” she asked gently.

“Everything,” I answered, rolling to my side and getting up on a forearm. “Everything, Ty-Ty. I was crying when I fell asleep and Shy was holding me, but somehow when we were sleeping he tucked me under him, tucked me close, and I woke up and all I felt was warm. Warm and safe and loved and right. That was all I felt. All I thought. All that went through my mind was how good all that felt.”

“Is that bad?” Her tone was still gentle but now also cautious.

“Yes,” I hissed.

“How?” she asked carefully.

“Jason didn’t hold me.” She closed her eyes and opened them when I carried on, and I did so thanking God I could talk to Tyra about everything, “He was loving and he could cuddle but not, you know, in bed. He was a hug-and-roll guy. After we, uh…” I let that hang then went on, “He hugged me, let me go, then rolled away. He was sweet about it but that just wasn’t his thing. He liked to sleep in his space and he left me to mine. I’d never had that, not ever, not from a guy, not until I got it from Shy and I liked it. It felt good. No, it felt great.”

“Tab—” she began, but I was on a roll so I blathered on, talking over her.

“It gets worse,” I shared. “Even after I woke up feeling safe and right, it didn’t all crash over me. It didn’t come to me at all. I looked up at Shy and he’s, well… you know, everyone knows Shy’s really good-looking, but asleep, Ty-Ty, asleep—” I leaned toward her “—he’s amazing. So amazing, so handsome, so close, holding me, making me feel safe and loved and after he’d been so cool with me the night before, I kept forgetting. Kept forgetting everything and I, oh Tyra, God help me”—my voice dropped to a whisper—“I nearly kissed him.”

After sharing that, I flopped back to the bed, put my hands over my face and let it wash over me as it did every time I remembered it, which was often, dozens of times daily for six weeks.

Guilt.

Shame.

Betrayal.

“Tabby, honey, look at me,” she called gently, I pulled in breath behind my hands, then I dropped them away from my face and looked at her.

She was smiling at me just as gently as she was talking to me, and it hit me, not for the first time, not by a long shot, that I loved Tyra Allen a whole lot.

“I’m glad you shared that with me. Your dad has been concerned and even more concerned lately, thinking that something else was not right with you,” she told me.

There it was.

Proof my father wasn’t stupid and I couldn’t pull anything over on him.

“It was a betrayal to Jason,” I whispered, and admitting it out loud hurt worse.

She kept talking gently even as she grabbed my hand and squeezed, “It wasn’t, Tabby. It’s natural. It’s proof you’re healing.”

I shook my head but she squeezed my hand again.

“It is, honey,” she pushed. “This sucks, it sucks huge, so huge there are no words for how huge it sucks, and I would say you’re too young to process it, losing Jason the way you did when you did. But honestly, you could be a hundred and three and you wouldn’t have lived enough life to be able to process that kind of loss. Jason was a good man and he loved you. He deserves your grief. But he loved you and he’d want you to heal, move on, find happiness.”

I shook my head again and she dipped her face closer and kept going.

“I understand why you feel the way you do, but what you need to understand is that’s part of the process. Having those feelings, remembering you’re alive, remembering there are good things to look forward to. You’re young, Tab, you have a lot of life ahead of you. What happened with Shy is reminding you that life is out there for you when you’re ready. Those feelings you had with Shy are natural. They’re good. They are right. More so for you now because they indicate you’ve begun the process of healing.”

“I totally forgot him, Tyra,” I returned. “I totally forgot Jason for whole minutes, lying in the arms of another man. Worse!” I cried, sitting up and twisting toward her to see she reared back. “It felt… it felt…” I stammered, unable to get out what I hadn’t really even admitted to myself. Then I pushed it out, “Beautiful. Waking up that way with Shy… it was… it felt…”

Oh God, was I going to say it?

I was going to say it.

“Better,” I finished. I watched as her eyes blanked, hiding her reaction, and I knew what that meant so I cried, “See! I’m messed up!”

She reached out, snatched up my hand again, and shook it. “You are not messed up, Tabby. You’re a woman and Shy’s a man, a good-looking one who was there for you when you needed him, and he handled you with care. Your feelings are natural. They are beautiful. They are right. There is nothing wrong with forgetting. I want to be gentle with you, honey, I know you don’t want to lose Jason now, even only having him in grief, but in all honesty, you’ll get to the point when you’ll forget for days then weeks—” she squeezed my hand as my heart squeezed and she finished “—and so on. It will happen and that’s healing too, and you might not believe it but I do, I totally do. I know he loved you enough not to want you to forget him completely, which you never will, he’ll always be a part of you, but enough so you could be happy. I know that, Tab. I also know, God forbid, the roles were reversed, you’d want that for Jason too. Nothing, not one thing you did or felt that night was wrong or shameful. I don’t think so, and I don’t think Jason would either.”

I had to admit, she was right about that. Jason loved me and I loved him, and although it would suck huge for him as it did for me, if he lost me, I loved him enough to hope he’d eventually be happy.

“I get you,” she said softly. “I so get you, Tab, spending time with Natalie, calling a brother to take care of you, having the feelings you had. You are not doing anything wrong except being way too hard on yourself. In this time especially, my beautiful girl, you need to be gentle with yourself. Please, stop beating yourself up.”

Okay, I had to admit she might be right about that too.

“Okay?” she pressed, and I nodded.

“Okay,” I replied quietly, and a small smile curved her mouth.

Then she let my hand go but lifted hers to tuck my hair behind my ear before she ran a finger lovingly along my jaw and her hand fell away.

“Now, since I’m laying it out, what I say next does not take back anything I said before, but it has to be said. Shy is a good guy and he did right by you. What you felt was natural and part of healing. Going out with Natalie was what you needed, and when you felt the situation was unsure, you did the right thing and called a brother to take care of you. But I caution you, Tab, to learn from these things, how they went wrong and how they made you feel. I know you love Natalie, but I also know you know she can be trouble. From what you said, I know Shy handled you with care, but I also know you know how he can be trouble for a girl who’s lost something precious and may be vulnerable.”

One could say I knew that.

Tyra wasn’t done.

“I can’t imagine Shy would ever go there with you, but Shy’s Shy and everyone knows all the ways he is, the good and, for a woman, the bad. Don’t get mixed up feeling those good feelings you had with him or any man. Assess where you are and only move forward in that part of healing when you’re genuinely ready. Not going for that hit that is meaningless just because it feels good and makes you forget. Am I making sense?”

She was.

She totally was.

She was also right. Shy took my back and handled me with care.

But Shy was Shy, and that wasn’t where it was heading. I wasn’t that for him.

He’d made certain to heal the breach but that was as far as it went. I couldn’t really mess up and mistake it for something else.

“I made him cookies,” I told her, and she blinked.

“You made him cookies?”

“We played pool, we bet on the games we played, and he bet me for cookies. I made them for him. They’re in the kitchen. I also didn’t phone him for six weeks even after he was great with me and now, I… I… well”—I threw out a hand—“I don’t know how to face him. What to say. How to excuse the fact I didn’t call to say thanks or even hi.”

Her eyes moved over my face and hair, I saw something flash in them before she hid it, caught my gaze, and grinned at me.

“Shy bet you for your cookies.”

I grinned back and muttered, “Shut up.”

“Maybe Shy isn’t as sharp as Tack thinks he is,” she remarked.

“I warned him, he said he wanted cookies.”

Something else flashed in her eyes again before she hid it—again—and I gave her that play. I did this because when I needed my own head space, she gave it to me. It would be uncool not to return the favor.

“Okay, this is the plan,” she declared. “I take your car and the cookies to the roast. I tell everyone you aren’t feeling great and ask one of the guys to bring your car back tomorrow. You take tonight to relax and reflect.” She grinned. “Or not reflect and just relax. Whatever you need. Then, in your time, when you’re ready, you find your way to connect with Shy and share gratitude. He’ll know by the cookies you didn’t forget.”

That sounded like a plan and, as usual, Tyra sorted me out.

“Thanks, Ty-Ty,” I said softly.

“Anytime, honey,” she replied softly then shifted to move off the bed, ordering, “Right. Cookies.”

I rolled off my side, got her my keys and the cookies, got her long hug at the door and locked it after she was gone.

I moved back to my room, changed into a nightie and my robe, washed the makeup off my face and went to the kitchen. I grabbed the leftover chocolate from Christmas that I had a lot of. Tyra went nuts with stockings at Christmas, and not just with Rider and Cut, who expected Santa to go bonkers, but also with me and my older brother, Rush, who were too old for Santa. It was three months old but I was going to eat it.

I took it to the couch, sorted out my Hitchcock marathon, and scared myself silly through Rebecca and Rear Window before falling asleep among a mountain of green, red, gold, and silver foil during The Birds.