Page 6 of Timber's Girl
“Easy, baby. I’m going to get you home, okay?”
“Timber?” she mumbles, her nose burrowing into my neck.
“I’m here.”
Ranger swings the truck door open, and I gently place her on the faded seat. She huddles against the console, shivers wracking her body, so I grab a heavy jacket from the back. It’s dirty and smells like gasoline, but it’ll do for now. "Here, put this on. It might help warm you up."
“T… thanks.” The misery in her tone wrenches at my heart. Carefully closing the door, I turn toward Ranger and Grim who’ve been watching silently.
“I’ll make sure she gets home safely. You guys can leave. Let Snow know what we learned tonight. Rust sounds like a good investment,” I say, trying to rein in my need to run to the driver’s side and take off rather than discussing MC business like my attention isn’t entirely on the sick woman behind me.
Ranger nods. “Don’t worry about it. Take care of your girl.” He and Grim dip their heads in farewell before straddling theirbikes, and I round the hood of the truck to climb into the driver’s seat.
Tears flow down Lindy’s face, but the body-shaking chills seem to have slowed.
Fuck the forty-five-minute drive to Suitor’s Crossing. Lindy doesn’t need to suffer that long when the MC has an apartment ten minutes away. It’s sparse—meant as a quick place to crash between Everton and Suitor’s Crossing—but it’ll do in a pinch.
After we’re parked in front of the quiet building, Lindy wastes no time fumbling with her seatbelt, tossing the door open, and practically falling out of the cab. Loud retching reaches my ears as I stand like an idiot, unsure of what to do, until she finishes, trying to right herself but swaying forward instead. Wrapping her in my arms again, it’s a short trek to the one-bedroom apartment situated on the first floor.
“Is this a stomach bug, Lind?”
It has to be, right? Lindy is too self-contained to get publicly drunk with someone she’s only recently reconnected with. Even at club parties, her drinking doesn’t exceed a beer or two.
“I don’t know.”
The bright bathroom lights cause us both to wince. Lindy sinks onto the closed toilet lid with a groan, and I wet a rag to wipe away the streaks of tears down her cheeks. My touch is gentle, but a part of me expects her to flinch at the intimacy.
I’m a scary motherfucker with rough hands and a rougher past who doesn't deserve to touch her. Especially when she’s dealt with an abusive bastard like her ex.
That’s one of the reasons I’ve held back for so long.
Even though I crave Lindy, I’m not sure it’s what’s best for her.
When I’m finished cleaning her up, I offer a new toothbrush and a cupful of mouthwash to rid her of the vomit aftertaste.
Little moans of pain periodically escape her throat. Small sounds that tear at something inside that I'd thought had died long ago.
I need her to stop. I can't take her cries of distress.
"Shhh… Lindy Girl, I've got you. You’ll feel better soon. You’re being so brave." I softly speak whatever comes to mind to distract her as my palm rubs soothing circles on her back.
This gentleness has been hiding my whole life, only manifesting upon meeting Lindy.
Maybe that's part of the Suitor's Crossingheart sparkslegend. When you meet your soulmate, you inherently change, become better for them.
And Lindy deserves the best.
Despite her experience with that asshole Dean, she's an innocent—not jaded or cynical. Probably grew up in a healthy, loving home where she was given whatever she wanted because no one wanted to deny such a sweet girl.
It’s a life I can't imagine.
As far back as I can remember, it’s always been just me. My junkie mom dumped me at her alcoholic brother's at a young age, and my life never improved. Until I was old enough to defend myself against beatings from my uncle. Until I gathered enough money to move out at sixteen. Then enough determination to join the army at eighteen.
I grab a change of clothes from the closet full of random items left behind by past guests.
"Do you want me to call Caroline or Faith?" Maybe she’ll feel more comfortable with a female presence rather than mine, considering how vulnerable she is in her current state.
Lindy gives me a blank look—off in her own head—probably trying to wrap her mind around tonight's events.