Page 9

Nine

Did anyone else’s relationship with their siblings randomly become normal after trying to kill one another while growing up?

— Aella’s secret thoughts

AELLA

My heart was pounding.

My palms were sweaty.

And I fumbled the t-shirt that I intended to put on twice.

It hit the floor, and I hastily bent down to pick it up.

Once I had it solidly in my hands, I yanked it on over my head and pulled it hastily over my bottom to conceal my nakedness.

I reached for a pair of panties next, and I wouldn’t admit to anyone that they were my sexiest pair, before turning around and saying, “Okay.”

Don’t ask me why I wasn’t wearing pants.

I had those in my closet.

I could’ve easily put them on.

But I hadn’t bothered to reach for them.

Nor had I gone with a bra.

Though, I had to admit, I didn’t necessarily need a bra for support.

What I needed the bra for was to conceal my pointy nipples that never seemed to go soft.

Yet, I hadn’t put one on, and I wouldn’t question myself why.

Oh, who was I kidding?

Chevy Clayborne, sexiest doctor at Dallas Medical, biker extraordinaire, was my end goal.

If I could pick one man in the universe to be mine, it would be him.

Granted, everyone and their brother knew that he was way out of my league, but you couldn’t blame a girl for trying, right?

He turned without a word and took me in, showing no outward signs of emotion.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

“I already told you why I was here.” He jerked his chin toward the living room. “I don’t want to sit on your bed with dirty hospital clothes. Let’s go out there.”

I went out to the living room, bypassing the couch to go to the kitchen.

He took a seat at the tiny postage-stamp-sized kitchenette while I went to the fridge and opened it.

I had one beer, ketchup, mustard, and a water bottle.

I took both drinks out and offered him a choice.

He jerked his chin at the beer and said, “But only if you don’t want it.”

I gave him the beer and said, “I don’t drink alcohol. It’s only here because Silver likes it.”

He twisted the top off, and I marveled at the way his muscles, veins, and tendons moved.

“I think that wasn’t a twist-off,” I supplied.

“It was.” He flashed me a small grin, and I felt like the whole entire world had just shifted on its axis.

Chevy Clayborne had just smiled.

At me.

Birds were chirping, and suddenly the moon was brighter.

What. The. Fuck?

I’d never seen him smile, not once.

And if he had somehow performed that miracle, he hadn’t aimed it at me.

Holy wow.

My heart was pounding now, and I shakily twisted the cap off the water and took a hasty sip.

“About why I’m here,” he said. “Where do you want to donate the money?”

I whirled around, then nearly smacked myself on the forehead when I realized that in doing so, my shirt had puffed out and my ass was exposed.

Acting like I didn’t know what I’d done, I went to the counter and searched through multiple late notices—who needs cable TV anyway?—until I found the name of the charity that I’d written down last month.

I tried to volunteer my time when I had it, and I’d heard about One Love, Dallas, through a patient.

“This one,” I said as I turned. “They help veterans around the city find whatever they need. They’re a sister charity to one out of Kilgore that helps vets find jobs, homes, psychiatric help, and anything else a veteran might need in the city.”

He took the piece of paper and smiled. “Aella, honey. This is our charity.”

Aella, honey.

Why did those two words, paired with his voice, make me want to melt?

“Oh.” I smiled. “I was just about to start volunteering.”

His eyes crinkled at the edges.

Was that another smile?

What was happening right now?

“Mercy Spurlock runs the Kilgore, Texas branch. One day while we were visiting, we volunteered our time to help with building a house. We all got to talking, and we liked her mission, so we decided to carry her idea to Dallas. We’ve been running the show, with her in the wings offering input when and where she can, for about ten years now,” he explained.

“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s just, wow.”

“One of our longest standing members, Cakes, runs the show here,” he said. “If you’d like, I can take you to meet him.”

“I’d love that,” she said. “But don’t tell him that I’m the one that donated the money. Because I didn’t.”

“Why?” he asked, looking curious.

“I just don’t like it when people pay attention to me,” I admitted honestly. “It makes me nervous.”

His brows rose. “Is that why you run away every time someone talks to you?”

I snickered. “Kind of.”

He looked like he wanted to know more, but that was one thing I wouldn’t be telling him.

I didn’t want him knowing that my mother brought around all kinds of strangers when I was little, giving me a complex when it came to talking to someone I didn’t know.

He’d just feel sorry for me, and him feeling sorry for me was the last thing that I wanted from him.

He knocked on the table and stood up, invading my personal space.

He ran his fingers through my still-wet hair, then said, “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Aella.”

“O-okay,” I stuttered.

“And Aella?” he asked when he reached the door.

“Yeah?”

“You need to get a better door. This one sucks.”

Heart pounding, I watched him walk out the door and close it without another word.

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.

But unfortunately, I didn’t have the kind of spare cash that I could just throw at a new door.

Let alone a dead bolt that worked.

What he didn’t know about my door wouldn’t hurt him.

I woke up, slick between my thighs, with the knowledge that yet another dream of Chevy had come and gone.

My hands went between my thighs, and I was amazed at just how easy it was to get off thinking about the man that had no clue he starred in my every dream.

Then again, I shouldn’t have been too amazed. He’d been star spank-bank material since I’d met the man a couple of years ago.

The first, and likely only, birthday text of the day came in, and I smiled.

Silver:

Happy birthday, sissy! I love you so much!

I grinned and picked up my phone, immediately texting back.

Me:

Not fair. You know that I just woke up.

Silver:

All’s fair in love and birthdays.

I sent her several birthday balloon emojis and tucked my phone into the waistband of my underwear before heading into the bathroom.

Once there, I set the phone aside and got to work getting ready to go.

I spent an extra amount of time on my appearance today.

In my head, I justified my extra attention to my appearance because it was my birthday, when in reality, I knew that I would be seeing Chevy at work today.

I started my hair, then called myself all kinds of dumb when it would annoy me to high heaven, and getting work done with patients would be all that much harder if my hair was down.

Instead of going with the curls, I went with a slick-back high pony, then added a red ribbon to it to match with my scrubs.

That, at least, was my norm.

Ribbons were my thing.

Being a cheerleader in high school, and desperate to at least fit in somewhat, I’d taken to the ribbons and the bows with glee.

I didn’t do bows so much anymore, but the ribbons were timeless.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

I added wings to my eyes, something I usually only did when I was heading out for the night with Silver, and made sure to make the liner extra smoky.

My lashes were on point, and by the time I was ready to leave, I had a little bounce in my step.

I made it to my car, which was parked nowhere near my complex, in record time.

By the time I got to work, I was actually early.

I pulled to my usual spot on the hill and had just opened the door when I heard a motorcycle pull up somewhere near me.

My heart started to pound, and I looked up, my eyes going everywhere.

I spotted him parked next to the cemetery, which was catty-corner to where I was parked.

I felt my cheeks heat, and it definitely wasn’t because of the insane temperatures at seven in the morning.

Seeing him arrive was an abnormal thing.

Seeing him arrive and leave in the same week? That was damn near impossible.

He was always here balls early because most surgeries were started in the morning if they had a choice.

His eyes caught mine, and I felt my heart nearly leap out of my chest and head straight toward him.

I timidly smiled at him and said, “Good morning.”

I closed my door and went to the back seat to grab my bag.

It wouldn’t do to leave that in the car, or I wouldn’t get to have my birthday lunch of frozen Hot Pockets, a splurge for me.

Usually it was ramen or something equally as cheap and unhealthy.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers when they were living on a part-time salary and going to school full time, even if they did have a few scholarships to pay for it.

I was still absolutely stunned that I’d gotten chosen for the scholarship.

I mean, I didn’t have great grades.

They were passing, sure, but they weren’t great.

I didn’t have a background that would say “hey, she definitely deserves this.”

In fact, my background had almost kept me from getting into the surgical tech program to begin with.

It was the weirdest thing.

One second I was scraping pennies together, selling feet pictures on the internet—don’t judge me, at least I wasn’t selling my underwear—and the next I had the program director calling to let me know I was fully covered for the semester.

I had cried tears of excitement right in the middle of the hospital corridor in the middle of work.

Unless you’re poor, you have no clue how much even the smallest things could help.

Finding a dollar on the floor? That was gas for half the week.

Getting a scholarship to pay for my semester of school? That was life changing.

Which got me to thinking about all that money my mom had in her trunk.

That kind of money would’ve been life changing for me.

Too bad I had a moral compass.

“Hey, sweetness,” he replied, his voice husky and deep.

My knees quivered.

“Sweetness?” I laughed softly. “You’re awfully nice about what you saw last night when I lost my crap.”

“Everyone does that every once in a while,” he stated.

I doubted everyone did it like me.