J. Salsbury - Fighting to Forget

I crank the shower to high and step under the spray, not at all missing the only person who I’ve ever let in.

The only woman who’s accepted me for me.

No regrets.

Not one.

It’s time to move on.

But how?

~*~

Mac

I’m lying in the dark in Hatch’s bed. The smell of stale booze and dirty ashtrays fills my nose. The low grumble of his snore pounds in my head, intensifying my hangover. As far as I can remember, I only had the beers at the bar. Once we got here to the motorcycle clubhouse, I flopped on Hatch’s bed and everything went black.

The second I woke up I checked to make sure I was still clothed. Thankfully my bra, jeans, and tee were still in place. I dig my fists into my eyes. Dirt from riding on the bike mixes with day old mascara. My brain feels like it’s going to explode and my stomach twists.

Why did I drink so much? The memory of Rex’s face haunts me: crystal blue eyes and black hair, a million different kinds of beautiful, him pulling that lip ring between his teeth to keep from smiling. Rex smiling. To think of all I’ve stolen from him: his happiness, a future. My eyes flood with tears, and I push back the weakness to avoid the full meltdown that threatens.

Crap. I can’t do this. Not here. I shrug off my self-pity and try to focus through my post-drunken blur.

I’m an idiot.

My original plan to ride through the country, stopping at random places and drinking myself into oblivion was not well thought out. Where would I be if Hatch hadn’t found me?

I lick my lips. So thirsty. My gut rumbles and spins. I need to eat, get my bike, and find a decent motel to recover in. Then I’ll come up with a better plan.

“Hatch.” I smack his shoulder with the back of my hand. “Wake up.”

He groans and rolls away, giving me his bare, tattooed back.

“Seriously.” I shake him. “I need you to take me to my bike.”

His answering snore tells me he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

“Shit.” Maybe there’s someone else who’s headed out who can take me. I push up from the bed and pain stabs through my temples. My hands grip at my head. “Ouch.”

I stumble across the room, tripping over biker boots and who knows what else. It’s too dark. I pull back the thick curtains and the bright sun makes me think it’s later than I thought.

Where did I put my backpack?

My eyes scan the area. It’s not here. I move across the room, flipping up dirty clothes and tossing food wrappers.

“Hatch! Where’s my backpack?” I have no memory of bringing it in here, but then again most of my memories from last night are fuzzy. “Shit, shit, shit!”

I race out of the room and down the hallway to the main living space. There’s a naked couple asleep on the couch, and one woman passed out on a recliner.

But no backpack.

Everything I own is in there: cash, cards to my bank account, clothes. If it’s gone . . . My heart pounds and I break out in a sweat. Bile rushes to my throat. I race to the kitchen, double over the sink just in time to cough up the sour taste.

I have nothing, no one I can call. The only person who would consider helping me would be Trix, but how do I explain being in Colorado with her semi-boyfriend. I’m screwed. Totally fucked.

“Yo, Snow.” Hatch’s voice calls from behind me. “You okay?”

I spit bile and shake my head.

He laughs. Asshole.

“Where’s my backpack?” I just want to get the hell out of here. Physically, emotionally, these last two days have brought me to the threshold of my tolerance. I can’t handle anything more.

“No clue. Did you leave it at the bar?” He hands me a paper napkin.

I take it, straighten from the sink, and wipe my mouth. “Of course I didn’t.”

“You look like shit.”

“You’re an asshole.”

A slow smile spreads across his goatee’d face. “Come on. I got something that’ll perk you up so we can find your backpack.”

“Perk me up?” I look around the dirty kitchen, open bottles of liquor, half-eaten food. “I don’t think I want whatever biker hangover cure you’ve got in mind.”

I just want my shit so I can leave.

“Hey, you want to find your shit and get on the road?”

God, yes. So badly. I nod.

He motions for me to follow him. “Then come on.”

My stomach still in knots, I follow him back to his room, scanning the entire way looking for my backpack. There are a lot of closed doors in this place. Maybe one of the guys pulled it into his room?

Even back inside Hatch’s room, I pull open the drapes and click on the bathroom light, searching. It’s nowhere. Dammit!

“Here.” He holds a small square mirror up to my face.

“What is that?” I’m pretty sure I know, but he can’t possibly think offering me drugs is going to help my situation.

“Coke. It’ll kick that hangover. Help you think straight.” He pushes it closer.

“No thanks.” I scoot around him and continue my search.

“You’ve got a better option?” The sound of him sucking the powder into his nose fills the room.

Do I? The only way I’d ever touch that shit would be to put myself out of my misery, which I may need to do if I can’t find my backpack.

Terror pricks along my nerves. If it’s gone, stolen, I’m at the mercy of Hatch until . . . until when?

I watch him pour out another line and suck it back, the biker dick who hates Rex and hit me.

But saved me last night.

And he’s my only hope.

Six months later . . .

Rex

“Are you sure you’re cool with this?” I look over to find Emma squirming in the passenger seat, her hands knotted together.

Her bright eyes fix on me. “Yes. It’s fine. I’m just nervous. It’s a lot of pressure to meet all your fighting friends on our first date, ya know?”

Date. Right.

The last date I went on was with Gia back before my entire world was destroyed with the discovery of a damn stuffed animal. Coming back from that has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It’s taken months of intensive therapy three times a week to get to this point, and I still have so far to go. Fuck, it’s only been in the last few weeks that I’ve been able to stop referring to Gia as Mac.

I’m grateful for Emma. She’s been a good friend. I’ve had her inside my condo, even curled up with her on the couch to watch movies. She’s mellow, never demands more than I can give. I figured it was time I took her out on a real date. Thought it might help me move on. Forward.

So here I am. But I can’t help but feel blah.

I like Emma. She’s beautiful, sweet, and funny in her own way. I’m sure if I give it time I’ll grow to have the intense feelings I felt with Gia, before I found out she was Gia.

I blow out a long breath and try to relax.

“Are you sure you’re cool with this?” Emma lifts one eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Jonah’s been staying home a lot, and I haven’t seen Raven and the baby since I visited them in the hospital.” After everything they went through when the baby was born, Jonah didn’t let anyone come near Raven or the baby for a long time. He was so close to losing them both; he’s added a new level of overprotection to his already nuclear-level possessiveness. “We don’t have to stay long. We’ll drop in, say hi, and then grab dinner.”

She nods and stares out the window, and I can’t help but think of Gia. Darren says I need to stop comparing the two girls and just appreciate Emma for the girl she is rather than who I wish she was.

I’m trying. But the truth is I miss Mac.

It didn’t happen overnight, but I realize now that her heart was in the right place. God, the things I accused her of: lying, stalking, and manipulating me to feel something for her so that she could destroy me.

Every night when I lie in bed, waiting for sleep to take me, I remember the feel of her soft body, the tropical smell of her skin that drove me fucking insane with lust, her hands tearing into my hair when we kissed, pulling against my lip ring with so much passion she could hardly control it. But she did. Her white-knuckled grip held her back to keep from touching me, biting down on those full lips to keep from talking—all because I asked her to—ignoring her own desires to accommodate mine.

I rub my cramping chest.

Where is she now?

I went to get my stuff from her place a few weeks after she left my condo. I knew she never showed up at The Blackout, but I’d hoped maybe she was still in town. Trix explained that she took off that night and left her phone behind with most of her things. There was a note for Trix saying she was sorry.

My bag was there, packed and waiting. It wasn’t until I got it home that I realized she left me and my memories behind too. The bear and my writings. I must’ve dug through every pocket in that bag a dozen times looking for a note. Parting words, something, anything. I found nothing.

Not that I blame her.

I kick back the thoughts and the direction they’re taking me when we pull into Jonah’s driveway. It’s lined with cars and Emma visibly tenses.

Gia would never get this nervous around people whether she knew them or not.