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CHAPTER EIGHT

ALANNA

Cy ended up making me pack nearly every piece of clothing in both mine and Charlotte’s dressers. If I’m not mistaken, he did pack all of my daughter’s things. Cy had taken over packing her bag while I did mine. When I finished, he’d taken a look at the few things I’d put in my bag and told me to get more. When that wasn’t enough, he’d just taken over, shoving things into a duffel.

By the time he was done, there were two bags, though smaller, filled with Charlotte’s things. Then two bigger ones, looking ready to explode with mine. That’s not including the fact he filled another bag with some toys and Charlotte’s favorite stuffies. I had to put our bathroom products in one. While I was doing this, Cy bagged up pretty much all of our shoes.

I asked him why we were taking all of this, only he didn’t answer with words, just shrugged it off.

The insufferable man didn’t even allow me to carry any of the bags to the truck. He’d taken them himself.

When we finally were leaving the house, Cy scooped me into his arms, not letting me walk in the snow. He already had the passenger door open and ready for him to put in. With the height of the truck, I don’t know how he was able to do it, still, he did.

Once he got in behind the wheel, Cy put the truck in gear before taking my hand in his.

I find myself still struggling even while he seems comfortable holding my hand while driving through horrible weather. Neither of us speaks a word. I want him to concentrate on the road.

Plus, I didn’t know what I should say.

My head was still spinning with all that I shared with him. I hadn’t even finished, and yet, with what I did give to Cy, he kissed me. As weird as it sounds, it was my first kiss. It’s the one thing my father never did. Now that honor goes straight to Cy for being my first, even if it’s solely in that one department.

I don’t want to have to think about anything with my family, but with us having had a car following us earlier in the day, I find myself doing just that. Could whoever my dad was going to sell Charlotte to have found us? Could my parents have? Have I been foolish not to move in the past four years?

Then there’s the little fact that somehow the nurse who helped me back then, Jordan, she sent me here because of the club. I hadn’t thought about that before. I hadn’t really thought about her at all other than being grateful for her help in getting away from my family.

“You’re thinking too much over there.” Cy’s words pull me from thoughts.

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

No one person can know what another is thinking. It’s just not possible.

“It’s written all over your face, baby. You got fear in your eyes and uncertainty making that frown of yours.”

“You’re supposed to be driving, not looking at me,” I snap. There’s nothing else I could say since he’s absolutely right in the fact that I’m overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty.

“Short Stuff, I don’t have to look at you to know what look you’ve got on your face.” He chuckles and takes a turn not long after pulling out of the driveway.

“What are you doing?” I know the way to the clubhouse like the back of my hand, this isn’t the way to it.

“Just driving, baby, just driving. You got nothing to worry about. I’m just making sure we’re good and don’t have a tail.”

I let out a breath and nod. I can understand him doing this, and honestly, I appreciate it. I don’t want any trouble following us back to Charlotte.

“Trust me, Alanna, that’s all you gotta do. I’ve got this,” he says, reaching over to take my hand in his yet again after I’d snatched it away during our conversation. He doesn’t just hold my hand, though, he raises it to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.

Again, I nod, but for a whole other reason. My stomach feels like butterflies are fluttering a mile a minute. I don’t get why he’s so intent on being with me. Doesn’t he get that I’m not that special?

Cy takes another turn, then another, before finally getting back on the main road. “We’re gonna make a quick stop before we head to the clubhouse.”

“Where?”

Instead of answering, Cy pulls into the parking lot of a Kroger.

Um, okay. I don’t know what we need to go there for, but I don’t bother asking either. Cy parks the truck, shuts it off, and gets out. I unbuckle while watching him circle the hood, noting the steam from it and melting snow hitting it. I glance around the parking lot, seeing only a handful of vehicles.

Cy opens my door, helps me out of the truck, and sets me on my feet, his arm going around my shoulders. I’m surprised at how little he’s wearing, but still feels warm. Whereas he made sure I put on my thickest coat before leaving my house.

Together, we walk into the store, and he quickly tags a cart.

Only then do I ask, “What exactly are we getting here?”

“Just a couple things to have in my room while you and Charlotte are with me. Club doesn’t keep shit you like on hand. Who the fuck eats seaweed crisps, for fuck’s sake,” Cy grumbles.

I blink. Then, blink again, and finally, I giggle. “We’re here to get me some seaweed crisps?”

“And your damn hot chocolate and tea,” he adds.

“Well . . . thank you, you don’t have to do this.” It was nice, but not necessary. None of this was necessary.

“Short Stuff,” he calls like that’s all he needs to say and nothing else.

I want to ask him why he calls me that hideous nickname. I’ve wanted to know since the first time he used it. I used to find it annoying, but I learned to ignore it. Now I’m just used to it. However, him being around me more this week than he’s ever been, his attention having shifted, I’m finding it strange. Although, if I’m honest with myself, it melts something inside me.

Cy doesn’t play around with going through the grocery store. He makes quick work of it, grabbing things here and there. Grabbing juices that Charlotte drinks. Snatching up her favorite snacks. All things that she didn’t have to have but would enjoy having. I always made sure to keep her favorites on hand at the house.

Once he finishes, he goes to the only register a person was manning.Two other people were in line ahead of us. There were several self-checkouts open, which I would have used, but it seems Cy isn’t one for using them.

“If you want, I can handle everything at one of the self?—”

“I don’t use those things, baby. They take jobs away from people,” he says, interrupting me with his explanation.

This is true, so I can understand his reasoning. Still, when you’re having to stand in a line, sometimes it’s just easier, especially when you have to watch the time.

Moments go by, the line goes down, and finally, we’re up. It doesn’t take long for Cy to unload the cart onto the belt or for the cashier to ring everything up. Cy pays, snags up the bags, takes my hand, and off we go back out into the cold, fridged air.

A shiver courses along my spine. I want to put it down to the chilling weather, but I can’t help but look around, only I don’t see anything. I'm not really able to thanks to the snow. It started coming down harder since we went inside.

In no time, though, Cy has us back in the truck, and we’re on the road heading for the clubhouse yet again. I relax back in my seat and take a breath.

No sooner I do this, I regret taking that breath.

Everything seems to happen all at once.

Cy curses, the truck starts fishtailing, and lights from another vehicle come straight at us. Jerking the wheel, Cy twists the truck to keep us from having a head-on collision with a semi-truck. Unfortunately, for us, someone ends up rear-ending us, sending us straight into a tree.

I don’t know what happens mostly because everything goes black.