Madeline Sheehan - Unattainable

“Okay,” I said to Mick once the greetings had begun to lull. “I’m ready to go see Deuce.”

He still loved me.

He still loved me.

I repeated the words over and over again in my head like a mantra as I paced the length of the clubhouse kitchen.

Hooked up to a heart monitor, oxygen tubes up his nostrils, an IV in his arm, Ivy curled around his left leg, fast asleep, Deuce had told me as much. He’d also told me Cage was in a bad way, using hard drugs, sleeping around again, and shirking all his club duties. That he’d bought himself a one-way ticket to the land where few return from.

He’d also told me to “reel it in” when I started to cry. Then he told me to “go get my man.”

Now I was back at the clubhouse and yet I couldn’t bring myself to make the short trip down the back hall to Cage’s room. Not only was I terrified of what I was going to find inside, I was terrified Deuce was wrong. That Cage wasn’t in a bad way because of me, that his bad way had nothing at all to do with me and everything to do with what had happened to him.

Because of me.

That love was the last thing on his mind and instead it was hate fueling him.

What if…

“Fuck it,” I muttered and quickly crossed the kitchen. Slamming my hands into the double swinging doors, I headed right, then left, and down the back hall where I came to a halt in front of Cage’s door.

After smoothing out my dress and making sure my glasses were straight, before I could think twice about it, I knocked lightly on the door.

“What?” came the booming yell from inside.

The raw anger in Cage’s voice made me cringe. Well, now what? Did I knock again or go inside? Maybe I should just walk away?

I poised my fist, ready to knock again, then decided against it. He already knew someone was out here, he’d heard my knock and responded. All I would succeed in doing by knocking again was pissing him off.

Blowing out a deep, anxious breath, I gripped the doorknob and slowly pushed open the door.

His room was filthy. Dirty clothes and boots covered the floor, empty beer and liquor bottles lined his dresser and nightstand, and ashtrays everywhere were overflowing with cigarette butts. And the smell…

Deuce had prepared me, so I’d expected as much.

But what I wasn’t prepared for, not because Deuce hadn’t prepared me, he had and I’d cried like a fool because of it, but nothing could have prepared me for coming face-to-face with the naked brunette lying on Cage’s bed, Cage leaning over her body and snorting cocaine off her stomach.

It fucking gutted me.

My heart broke into a million fucking pieces, each shard ripping open my veins as they sliced through my bloodstream. I felt as if my body were failing, breaking down.

In my haste to get as far away as fast as I could, I tripped over a boot near the door and went flying face first into the hallway.

Cursing, I scrambled quickly to my feet and just as I was about to take off down the hallway, a large hand wrapped around my forearm and yanked me backward.

Cage swung me roughly around to face him and I blanched seeing him up close. He looked horrible, like he’d aged years since I’d seen him last. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed in puffy bags and dark circles, his hair was longer—past his shoulders—greasy and stringy, and he was the thinnest I’d ever seen him. Which wasn’t that thin at all but for a man Cage’s size, it looked wrong.

For a moment he just stared at me, looking me up and down, before his eyes landed back on my face.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” he demanded.

“Let go of me,” I said just as fiercely.

“Not a chance in hell,” he spat and yanked me forward, pulling me inside his room.

“Get out,” he told the brunette.

Slowly, she slid off the bed and scooped up her clothing. As she passed by me, she gave me a lazy smile. “Don’t know how much good he’s gonna be to you,” she said, smirking. “Coke dick is a bitch and I already drained that shit dry twice today.”

I didn’t think, just reacted and lunged for her, but Cage still had my arm and yanked me immediately backward. “You stupid whore!” I screamed, struggling against Cage.

Startled, the girl jumped backward and froze. God, she looked so young. Young and motherfucking slutty. I lost it.

“I will fucking kill you!” I screamed at her, thrashing against Cage.

He lost his grip on me and I tried again to attack the little bitch, only to find myself encased in Cage’s arms. As he dragged me backward, the girl, still naked and holding her clothing, ran for the door and disappeared into the hallway.

“I will find you!” I screamed after her. “I will find you and you will fucking die!”

“Calm the fuck down!” Cage yelled.

“Fuck you!” I shrieked, twisting wildly in his arms.

“Fuck me? Fuck me! Bitch, you left me bleedin’ out in a fuckin’ hospital and you’re screaming ‘fuck me’? No, Tegen, FUCK YOU!”

“I didn’t want to!” I cried. “Your dad made me leave! He told me I couldn’t ever see you again and that I couldn’t ever come back here! He told me he was going to kill me if you died!”

Cage released me so abruptly that I, still flailing, fell forward and face first into a pile of clothing. The very second I managed to get to my knees, Cage was on me again, roughly turning me to face him and pinning me down.

“You’re lyin’,” he spat. “You fuckin’ left me again. You keep leavin’, Tegen, it’s what you’re fuckin’ best at.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Yeah,” he hissed. “You motherfuckin’ are!”

I stared up at him, into his angry eyes and his beautiful face. He looked exhausted, broken down, and high as a fucking kite.

My gaze traveled lower, to the scars all over his chest, and my eyes began to fill.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” I whispered. “You shouldn’t even be smoking, let alone doing drugs. I’ve read so much about it, Cage. Once a lung collapses it’s vulnerable to all sorts of things. It could collapse again or you could get an infection—”

“Shut up,” he bit out.

I stopped talking and let my tears fall instead.

“I woke up,” he said. “And you weren’t there and I thought you were dead. I thought that motherfucker had taken you out too.”

My tears fell faster.

“And I was tryin’ to get out of bed,” he continued, staring down at me. “But I was in too much pain and then they were restrainin’ me but I was fightin’ them off, yellin’ for you.”

I couldn’t breathe now; I was crying too hard.

“And then my old man is there and he’s tellin’ me you were just fuckin’ fine and you weren’t comin’ to see me.”

He paused for a moment and I blinked furiously, trying to clear my eyes.

“You tellin’ me he lied to me? You tellin’ me you were there, that you wanted to be there and he wouldn’t let you?”

A sob erupted past my throat. “Yes,” I choked out.

For a long time we just stared at each other.

“You tellin’ me anything else?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” I sobbed. “I’m telling you I love you. That I’ve loved you since I was eight years old and I’m telling you that I never stopped. Not once.”

Cage’s eyes closed and he shuddered through his next breath. Then his face dropped into the crook of my neck and his body went limp, falling heavily over top of me.

“Don’t leave me again,” he whispered.

I didn’t even have to think about it.

“I won’t,” I whispered back.

“This shit between us ain’t ever gonna be perfect,” he said hoarsely. “People ain’t fuckin’ perfect, meanin’ love ain’t perfect. But fuck, bitch…”

He lifted his head and looked into my eyes.

“I love you,” he said. “I don’t want nobody else. And that should be enough.”

“It is,” I whispered tearfully. “It really fucking is.”

And it was. It was enough because he was enough. It was enough because I was enough for him. My faults, his faults, and all. We were enough.

Suddenly, I felt ready for whatever life was going to throw my way. I wanted to meet it head on and beat the holy fuck out of it, because this man was mine, he’d always been mine. I’d known it the day I met him and nobody, nothing, was going to keep me from him any longer.

• • •

Cage was praying to what-the-fuck-ever was up there that this wasn’t a drug-induced hallucination. That she was really here, telling him she fucking loved him, looking like…

Looking like Tegen. She looked like his Tegen, his Teacup. Her red hair was cut short, not nearly as frizzy as it used to be; it was wavy and he liked it. She was wearing her glasses again, thin black rectangular frames, a smaller version of the pair she used to wear.

She had on a simple black dress, not quite formfitting but tight enough that he could see the outline of her curves. They were small, but they were there, and she was fucking beautiful.

Gone were the lip and nose piercings; gone were the hemp necklaces. All that remained were the ear plugs and the tattoos, which he loved.

He’d loved all of it, actually—the Tegen he’d grown up with, the Tegen who’d come home from San Francisco all grown up, and the woman she was now, a sexy, yet quirky combination of both.

For the first time in a year, Cage wished he wasn’t high but at the same time if he wasn’t all fucked-up, he might actually break down and cry like a little girl. And he really didn’t want to do that.

So, in order to avoid all that bullshit, he bent his head and tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away. Panic raced through his overheated system.