Page 55 of Road to Absolution

Lilah was gripping my wrists, making it clear she would have to be wrenched off me. “But what about you? Maverick, I just got you back.”

“I’ll stay with him.”

From over Lilah’s head, I looked to Tucker, so proud to call him family. “I’ll sleep better knowing she’s with you.” To Diesel, I asked, “What about my mom and Bailey?”

He assured me, “Not one suspicious car has cased her home. I’ve had her watched since the accident.” He rubbed the back of his neck while staring at Lilah again. Then he glanced at me, silently telling me the same couldn’t be said for my home. It was being surveyed.

I gazed down at my wife. I love you.

Seeing my final decision, she started to cry. “No. Please, Maverick. Crazy love. You and me.”

I love you. I pressed my lips to hers then released her face.

Quietly, I told her brother, “Take her.”

He looked ill as he pried Lilah’s hands from my wrists. She stared at me the whole time. Even when Viola handed her a plastic bag that looked to be holding my old work boots. Holding it close to her chest, Lilah kept staring at me… even when she was taken from my room.

When the door shut, I stood there, alone, staring at the IV poll that was impeding on my last nerve. It was a glaring reminder of how I couldn’t properly take care of Lilah on my own. It was a reminder that someone had tried to kill me. It was a reminder my life was fucked.

I ripped the needle from my arm and threw it to the ground.

Blood dripped on the floor as I grabbed the bag V had brought me. I was done with the ass-flashing nightgown, too.

Getting dressed, I shunned my tragic legs and covered them in comfy blue pants V had brought me. After pulling on a soft cotton shirt that was so much better than hospital clothing, I stared into the mirror. Lilah was right. My hair was longer and my goatee had grown into a short beard. There was a razor in my bathroom bag Viola had also brought, but I decided… The old Maverick is now gone. The new me liked the beard.

That night was the first time I had been alone since I woke from the coma. I gotta admit, it was scary and lonely as fuck. I had far too much time to think, worry, and contemplate a future in a motorcycle club. In my hospital room, there was no longer a beautiful pregnant woman fussing over me. She was now in a home, where there was a man who adored her to the point enemies felt they could use her to get to him.

I had never been to Diesel’s clubhouse, so I couldn’t even imagine where she was or how close Art was to her. I seethed because, even though Art was on a shit list of mine, his hands were more capable than mine.

The crack to my ego left a mark.

I didn’t dare watch TV. Every time I heard screeching tires, my heart beat so intensely I thought it was going to explode. If a movie sounded off gunshots, my whole body would break into a sweat.

With the room dead quiet, I sat in the hospital bed inspecting my hands. “What do I do with you guys now that I can’t put my gloves back on?”

My hands didn’t answer. Maybe they didn’t know, either.

After a quick knock, Knuckles opened the door and gave a friendly salute. “I’m being replaced for the night. You good?”

Knuckles was an older lanky guy that should’ve been named Smiles because he was always smiling.

I told him, “Yes, sir. Thanks for everything—Hey, you headed to the clubhouse?”

“Yeah, that’s where I live.” That surprised me. Since he was older, I assumed he would be married and have his own home. Smiling, of course, he asked, “Need a delivery to JB?”

My brows lifted. “J. B.?”

He winced. “Sorry. I meant Delilah.”

Blink. Blink. “Do I wanna know what JB stands for? Please tell me not a blow job. I’ve had a hell of a month.”

He chuckled. “So I’ve heard.” Leaning on the doorknob, he said, “JB. Jailbait.”

“Oh,” I grumbled, imagining some old dude, Art-the-biker, kissing my wife.

Interrupting my self-destructing thoughts, Knuckles asked, “Want me to take her anything?”

“Shit, yes. Umm.” I peered about the room. “Flowers but, er, I don’t seem to have a wallet or money, so never mind.”