Page 13

Thirteen

Honestly, I love every single some of you.

— Aella’s secret thoughts

AELLA

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, wondering if I was crazy for what I was about to do.

I shouldn’t be here, dropping this money off, but I’d spent the entire night thinking about it, and I just couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t take this money.

It felt…wrong.

Like I’d taken it and shouldn’t have.

It was why I was walking up to Chevy’s bike seconds later and touching his saddlebags.

No one else would be crazy enough to do what I was about to do.

Everyone who was anyone knew not to touch a Truth Teller’s bike.

The reaction of the men was swift and offensive.

I’d heard of one man that’d thought it would be funny to push one over while he was out drinking at a bar, and when the Truth Teller had found out, he’d ruined the man’s life.

Not that the man hadn’t deserved it.

From what I’d heard, the drunk had been beating his wife up and treating his kids like crap.

But still…

Testing the saddlebags, I found that one hadn’t been clasped all the way.

Thankful that I wouldn’t have to pick the lock—something that I’d learned to do at a young age when my mother had found it easier to lock us in our rooms than provide babysitters—I shoved the money into the saddlebag and locked it into place.

I eyed the Truth Tellers emblem on the side of the bike, running my fingers along the hooded figure with the X for the eyes and a finger held up in front of a smiling mouth.

I loved that emblem.

Every time I saw it on a cut or a bike, or even an event thing, I loved it.

I wanted to tattoo it on my skin, it was so freakin’ pretty.

The one on the side of Chevy’s bike was mostly dark black and gray with neon pink highlights along the eyes, mouth, and nose.

A squeak had me glancing up to see a homeless man coming my way.

He eyed me as he got closer and said, “Better not touch that bike, missy. You know what they’ll do if they find out.”

Even the homeless people knew not to touch it.

“I know,” I admitted. “Have a good one.”

He jerked his head at me and kept walking.

I waited until he wasn’t in sight any longer to head into work.

And I had to admit, my day fucking sucked because I didn’t see Chevy but twice, and both of those times he was pretty far away as he went from one surgery to another.

Heading home that night, I fully expected it to be like any other night.

Silver was still in Broken Bow and I had no plans but eating some pizza and having another piece of cake.

When I got inside my apartment, I didn’t at first find anything wrong.

But when I opened my fridge, I was shocked by the amount of food in my fridge.

Honestly, I’d never expected that my fridge could hold that amount of food, but there I was staring at it all.

Orange juice—which I definitely could never afford to buy because it was so expensive.

Bottled water—that was a delicacy that I didn’t waste my money on. Tap water worked just fine.

Cheese—my god, there was so much cheese. Tillamook! I fuckin’ loved Tillamook! I’d had it once at a party, and it was much better than any cheese I’d ever tasted in my life. Much better than the cheese that you had to unwrap from the plastic package to put on your sandwiches.

I gasped when I saw the industrial sized bottle of ranch.

That’s when I started to tear up.

These were all things that I’d always wanted but never wanted to pay the money for.

Any ranch that I had was from the breakroom when people had extra ranches and they didn’t want them anymore. At the end of the month, I’d take all of the ranches that were leftover—along with any other condiments—and leave them in my apartment fridge in case I ever had the money for something that would taste good with the condiment.

Sure, it didn’t happen too often, but still.

I had them, just in case a cheeseburger or a salad fell into my lap.

I hastily wiped at the tears and sniffled.

Chevy.

That man…

I wouldn’t question how he’d gotten in here.

I also wouldn’t question why I was okay with him buying me a fridge full of groceries, but not okay with the five grand that he’d tried to give to me.

Gently closing the door because the amount of food inside of it was overwhelming me, I turned and froze, spotting a box on the table with a Post-it Note attached to the top.

Walking over to the box, I hesitated just short of reaching it and scanned the note.

It read:

Can’t give these back. I don’t wear the same size as you.

-C

Grinning, I pulled open the box, and the tears that hadn’t fully stopped now came rushing back again.

This time in great, hulking sobs.

I wasn’t a pretty crier.

My mother had told me time and time again that I only got uglier the more that I cried.

This time was likely no different.

I picked up the shoes as if they were made of glass like Cinderella’s and hugged them to my chest.

They were only a pair of On Clouds.

But here’s the thing.

I’d always wanted them.

How had he known?

Sniffling, I walked to my couch and collapsed onto it.

The wood beneath me creaked, and I didn’t even care, whereas normally the sound would make me cringe.

I knew the couch would give way someday, and I always felt like today would be the day.

But I was too absorbed in my crying jag to care.

It took me well over ten minutes to get it under control.

Unable to stop myself, I slipped the new shoes onto my feet and wiggled my toes.

Perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

I stood up and did a little hop.

I felt like I was walking on a cloud.

“Wow,” I breathed.

Wiggling my toes again, I smiled.

Then I came to a decision.

I was going to find the man and tell him just how much this meant to me.

I just had to do a little light stalking first…

My stalking turned up nothing.

So much nothing, in fact, that I would go back up to the clubhouse because I had no other options.

Except, when I got outside, my car was gone.

What.

The.

Fuck.

My mother had gotten out and decided to steal my car!

Anger seethed in my belly, and instead of calling the cops like I probably should have, I stomped back inside, pissed as all hell that I couldn’t go thank Chevy.

And even more pissed because now I had to deal with my mother again tomorrow.

Stupidly, I hadn’t thought that she would stoop that low to steal a car and I hadn’t put anything in the car to be able to find it on the off chance that she stole it.

Meaning, I was boned.

I slept like shit all night as I tried to come up with a plan of action.

Oh, and tried to figure out how in the hell I was going to get to work.

The bus.

That was my only option.

It wasn’t like I could afford a ride share.

In my new shoes and my threadbare scrubs that were castoffs from some other nurse that hated the way they felt, I headed downstairs in my new shoes.

But not even my mother stealing my car would be enough to dampen the feeling that I had running through me at the thought of standing on clouds all day.

I was so lost in thought that I nearly walked right past my car.

I froze at the sight of the faded red paint, then backed up and frowned.

“What in the…” I said as I walked toward it and touched it to make sure that I hadn’t just made the entire damn thing up.

Was it a dream?

I looked down at my shoes and nope, those were still there.

Maybe I’d just been delusional last night when I’d come out, exhausted from a long day at work and a sleepless night before that thinking about Chevy and him bringing me cake and pizza.

Maybe…

I got into the car and started it up, fully expecting it to be dead like it always was.

But…

I frowned at the sound of not only the engine starting up with a soft rumble, but the lack of any other noise.

The car wasn’t making that weird ticking sound that it always made.

Nor had I had to jump the car off by pushing it.

What in the…