Kristen Ashley - Own the Wind

“Nat,” I called quietly, “look at me.”

Her eyes slid back to me.

“You have got to pull yourself together,” I whispered, her shoulders went straight and I lifted a hand. “Hear me out.”

She stared at me, her eyes slid to Shy then they came back to me, and she jerked up her chin.

I took her invitation but kept at it gently.

“You’re in free fall, Natalie, and you know it. You have been since high school. Right now, I’m telling you and I want you to listen to me, you need to reach out and catch hold of the hand I’m extending and let me help you pull yourself out.”

“I’m cool,” she returned, and I shook my head.

“You’re coked to the gills. That doesn’t indicate cool to me.”

“It’s recreational,” she spat.

“Recreational?” I asked. “Coked to the gills at ten in the morning?”

“I’ve got it under control,” she retorted.

“Jeez, Nat!” I threw up my hands, suddenly exasperated. “Listen to yourself! They all say that!”

“I live my life the way I wanna live my life and you live your life jumpin’ from man to man ’cause you can’t seem to live your life without clutchin’ on to some dick that makes you feel complete. Your dad ruined you, controlling your every move, so now you can’t exist without findin’ some guy who will do the same.”

“Tabby, I’m losin’ patience,” Shy warned in a low voice, as I suspected he would when she pulled Dad into it. Something, incidentally, I didn’t much like either.

“Nat, that isn’t true and you know it, but I’ll point out you’re turning the focus on me so we won’t focus on you.”

“It’s my life, under my control,” she fired back.

“I’m Chaos,” I reminded her. “We were at that party and you know that I know that those dudes were not good dudes. I had to climb out a freaking window, they flipped me so bad.”

“They’re fun to party with,” she returned.

“Booze, drugs, and stockpiles of firearms right out on display for all to see is not a good combination, and you don’t have to have a college degree to know that’s just the God’s-honest truth,” I shot back.

“Oh—” she leaned back, waving a hand out in front of her in a wide sweep—“now you’re better than me because you got your degree?”

I shook my head and looked to Shy, wanting to find a hint of calm so I could keep dealing with her. From all appearances, I was looking in the wrong direction. Shy looked happy to rip her head off.

No help there.

Crap.

I looked back at Natalie and pulled in a calming breath.

Then I said softly, “I’m with you, thick and thin. I’ve proved it. I’ll keep doing it. You’re a beautiful person, Natalie, you deserve better. But the person who has to believe that is you. No one can give it to you, especially if you won’t let them. Stop doing this to yourself, realize your beauty, quit treating your body like shit, hanging with people that could get you in trouble or worse, and find your better.”

“Maybe I should rub up with Chaos. Get myself invited to a threesome, like Shy here likes so much.” She flicked a hand out to him as my breath caught at the unwelcome, long-ago memory her words brought crashing back. “Maybe I’ll get lucky, perform like a prize pony, get noticed and get myself an old man for a spell. That work for you, Tabby?”

I powered through the painful memory and shot back, “Any of the brothers of Chaos wanted to take your shit on, Natalie, and you didn’t put it out that you’re no more than ass to tap when they got a hankering for empty pussy, then yes. That would work for me great, Natalie.”

She leaned in to hiss, “You’re unbelievable.”

I didn’t hiss, I whispered, “And you’re in denial.”

She glared at me and I took it.

Finally, she spoke. “You can take your thick and thin and fuck yourself with it, Tab. We’re done.”

My heart lurched but my mouth pleaded, “Don’t do that either, Natalie.”

“Too late, bitch, it’s done,” she declared, sent an acid look to Shy, turned on her foot, and stormed to the door. She stopped there, twisted my key off her ring but was smart enough to throw it at the couch and not me when Shy was standing two feet from me.

Then she slammed out.

I stared at the door for about a third of a second before Shy curled his arm around and pulled me close.

I deep-breathed into his chest.

“Babe, your best girl is a fuckin’ bitch.”

I closed my eyes.

Then I mumbled into his chest. “That didn’t go well.”

“Nope,” he agreed.

“That also doesn’t fire me up to tell Dad, Tyra, and the rest.”

“Nope,” he again agreed and my shoulders slumped. “Though, sayin’ that, sugar, none of them are cokeheads with a life complex, so at least we got that going for us.”

I chuckled but it didn’t hold a lot of humor.

Shy’s other arm closed around me tight so I wound mine around him.

“Fuck,” I whispered in his chest.

“She loves you, Tabby. She just doesn’t love herself. She’ll come back.”

God, I hoped he was right.

Then he muttered forebodingly and not helpfully, “Let’s just hope when she makes that call to mend fences, she isn’t in a situation where she’s fucked one way or the other and we gotta save her ass.”

“Maybe you should stop talking,” I suggested, still speaking into his skin.

Shy was silent a moment, his arms tight around me, then he murmured, “I’ll give you that, sugar.”

I sucked in a deep breath and let it go.

Then I tipped my head back, saw him tilt his chin down and caught his eyes.

“I need coffee.”

Shy’s hand slid up my back, my neck, into my hair. He tipped my head down, I felt his lips at the top of my hair, where he whispered, “Then I better get my girl some coffee.”

I liked it like that.

He kissed my hair, his arm gave me a squeeze, I returned the favor, and he let me go.

Then he got me coffee.

And, it must be said, I liked it like that too.

Goin’ Through the Motions

One and a half weeks later…

We were at FlatIron Mall when it happened.

And we were at FlatIron because it was far enough away, it was unlikely we’d run into anyone we knew. Not that bikers went shopping, but their babes did.

We were leaving because Shy had had enough of shopping. I knew this because after I tried on my third pair of high-heeled, kick-ass, sexy-as-all-heck boots, as much as he appreciated the show, he didn’t have a lot of patience with my indecision.

He demonstrated this by turning to the clerk and saying, “The first pair and this one, ring ’em up.” Then to me he said, “We’re done.”

I could really only afford one pair, but since Shy bought them (after a brief verbal tussle at the counter), I got two. Part of letting this go was that I bought Shy all three pairs of his new jeans and two of his four thermals, so I thought that trade-off worked. Anyway, I knew I was pushing my luck just with him agreeing to go shopping, therefore I didn’t push it further.

So just then, we were walking through the mall, Shy with his arm around my shoulders, me with my hand shoved in the back pocket of his jeans.

Things were still great, even after the Natalie debacle. She hadn’t called and she didn’t pick up any of my calls or return any of my messages, but when I expressed my concern to Shy, he just said, “Keep tellin’ you, sugar, she’ll come back to you. Just give her time to burn it out.”

I took his advice, as difficult as this was, and decided to focus on riding the happy wave that was us.

That said, Shy was getting impatient with us keeping our relationship under wraps. He’d informed me of this two days before.

“At the Compound, gotta fake it with you. Bite my tongue when I wanna say something that would expose us. Life’s too short to fake it this long, babe. We both know that shit. We’re solid. We gotta come out.”

He was right. As time wore on, it was beginning to seem less an effort to test the waters of us, which were totally solid, and more a lie. However, considering Natalie’s reaction, I wasn’t all fired up to move on to the next portion of sharing the news and what that might bring. So I’d begged for another week, just one, then I told him I’d start the process by telling Tyra.

He’d relented but he didn’t pretend to like it.

In that time, I’d been rehearsing what I was going to say to Tyra and this was what I was doing, my mind going over my speech, when she came out of a store and we ran right into her.

Literally ran right into her.

Rosalie.

Shy went solid even more than bumping into someone would make you go solid.

She had her eyes aimed the other way, she turned to us, starting, “Oh, sorry—” then she saw who we were and went solid too.

Crap.

The instant her eyes hit Shy, her face paled and my heart clenched, seeing her expression.

She was into him, big-time.

Still.

Shy breaking up with her had marked her. Even over a month later, the pain was close to the surface, right there for anyone to see. She didn’t even have it in her to hide it.

Oh God.

Her eyes moved over his face, hair, shoulders, the kick-ass necklaces he was wearing, and she also didn’t try to hide the longing that infused her gaze during this journey.

I was selective about my country music listening and one of the artists who made the cut was Jana Kramer. I’d never been dumped, but she looked exactly like what Jana’s lyrics to “Why You Wanna?” put out there.