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When Charlie thought she couldn’t take much more, Hemlock proved to her how much more she could handle. Crawling back over her body he plunged deep into her, taking her over completely.

The burning need to be inside Charlie bordered-on insanity. It wasn’t just her body he wanted to be in, it was her mind, and her heart.

He found his home, between the cries of pleasure that he dragged from her to the sensation of her body gripping his, drawing him ever deeper into her. He loved the feeling of her holding on, not wanting to let him go. As she toppled over the edge along with him, Hemlock heard his name on her lips as his body sagged against hers. His heart pounded in his ears. Right there, in the dark, he pressed his head to Charlie’s chest and whispered what he wanted, his feelings and prayed somehow, she would want him back in the same way he wanted her. “I want you to stay here Charlie. With me. Not only in my home, but in my bed.”

Hemlock had said downstairs she needed to be sure, and she was. One hundred percent certain she wanted to be right there with him. Still, as his words reached her ears, it seemed to mean more now than before. With her emotions caught in her throat, Charlie answered him, “I want to stay here, with you, Hemlock.”

Her whole life she’d wanted a guy to want her. The deep down where it counted want her. It had never happened, and now she knew why. Because none of them were who she was meant to be with. So, right then and there, it meant everything to her.

When he raised his head, his eyes locked on hers, and she knew she’d never want to be with anyone else. In that moment, Charlie understood how other people could fall in love in the matter of days. Weeks. A month. Because she was in love with Hemlock and had been since he carried her to the bed that first night. It took everything in her to not blurt those three little words out, still she managed.

Chapter Eighteen

There in the dark, Hemlock laid next to Charlie as he asked her to be patient while he found his words. His voice grew hoarse as he spoke, his memories dragging him back to a time when the world had seemed innocent, and his mother had been a hero. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, holding nothing back. The feel of Charlie’s fingers toying with his hair making him drowsy, but he was determined to get the tough crap behind him.

“My dad... he was a good man before the pills. A hard worker. He used to smile a lot. He got hurt on a job and that’s when the pain pill addiction started. After the accident, he was different. Angry. Bitter. He started losing weight, his temper got worse. And my mom? She just... one day disappeared. Emotionally at first, then literally.”

He paused, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to push the memories back into some corner of his mind. His chest felt tight, his heart pounding with the effort of trying to keep his words steady. But the dam had already cracked, causing the words to tickle out.

“My mom was working two jobs and taking uppers to keep going and downers to sleep. My dad spent his days and nights in the pool halls taking me with him. He died when I was ten. That’s when mom spiraled out of control, one pill, then another, and then it wasn’t just the pills. It was the nights she wouldn’t come home, the men who’d come in and out, the smell of stale smoke and cheap liquor...” Hemlock cut himself off, shaking his head.

He didn’t always think of her like that. He could remember better times when he was younger. She wasn’t on drugs or whoring herself out to score dope for not only herself but for his father. No, she had beenthatmom, the one you watched on TV or read about in books. She picked him up from school. Took him to the park, played with him all the time. She’d been present.

“When I was twelve, I found her passed out on the couch with a needle in her arm. She overdosed. That’s how I lost her... for good. She never woke up.” There was a long silence after that. Hemlock could feel her fingers stilling in his hair. She didn’t ask him any questions, didn’t rush him. She just waited, like she said she would.

“Social services was on their way to scoop me up when I ran. I had heard horror stories about the boy’s home and wanted no part of it.” When Charlie remained silent, he continued as her fingers caressed his scalp.

“I snuck back into our apartment and managed to stay there for about a week before having to run again. I kept going back every night, taking anything and everything I could from the apartment. Food, my clothes, my books. I even took the cot I slept on,” his voice trailed off, and he finally let himself rest, leaning into her touch.

Hemlock let out a low sigh, his eyes still closed as he let the words come out slowly, like they were being pulled from somewhere deep inside him. He hadn’t realized how much it still hurt, how much it still gnawed at him, until he started speaking.

“Where did you go?”

“I moved into an abandoned building not too far from the clubhouse. I learned fast not to ever let someone see me coming or going from the building. That’s how your shit got stolen by other homeless people.”

“How long did you stay there?”

“I lived there for two years. I found ways to make money so I could eat, I never begged. Not that I was too proud, but I was capable of working. I watched the brothers come and go from the clubhouse, and one day I decided they could help me. I just had to prove I could be of use.

“I started hanging around the clubhouse, looking for work. I knew that was my way out. I knew it was probably the only chance I had to get out of the life I was living.” His eyes opened, staring at the shadows in the room, his thoughts drifting to those early days when he first met the people who would become his family, his brothers.

“I guess I just kept hoping, you know? That maybe if I could prove I was strong enough, tough enough, they’d take me in. They eventually did.” His lips twitched, the smallest of smiles flickering. “But it wasn’t like I thought it would be. Being ‘in’ with them wasn’t a cure for everything that had happened. It was just... another way to keep going.”

“I swept the parking lot, cleaned the kitchen, took out the trash. I had even washed bikes in exchange for a hot meal. It was Truckwho took a liking to me. Started finding things for me to do even when there was nothing for me to do. After a year, he asked if I wanted to move to his place.”

Smiling to himself, Hemlock remembered all too well telling Truck he wasn’t no whore.

“He set me up in the garage apartment and gave me a job with his detailing company. Truck knew how I felt about handouts, so he told me every week he would sit me down and show me what groceries cost, utilities, and on top of that I had to pay fifty dollars a month for rent. I had no idea at the time how cheap that was.”

He exhaled slowly, finally allowing himself to relax a little, as her fingers continued to run through his hair.

“All I knew was that I wasn’t alone anymore,” he added quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “And that was the one thing that kept me going. That, and the fact I knew if I didn’t toughen up, I wouldn’t make it. I wouldn’t have made it, not back then.”

“How long have you been with the club?”

“Fifteen years. I’ve seen the chapter go through some good times and some bad ones.”

He told her he owed his life to Truck and would give his life for the man. Just as he would give it for her. He kept the second half of that in his thoughts not wanting to scare her. “That’s me in a nutshell.”