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But as my bladder protested its urgent need, practical matters took precedence. I slipped away to the bathroom, taking care not to disturb Yarder’s slumber.
Upon my return, my eyes fell to a sight that stirred both hunger and gratitude—a plate of pizza and an unopened can of root beer sat atop the dresser, a silent offering from Yarder, no doubt. My stomach rumbled in response, reminding me of its emptiness.
Without hesitation, I devoured two slices of pizza as if I hadn’t eaten in days, relishing in the familiar flavors that offered a brief respite from the chaos that had consumed my life. The fizzy sweetness of the root beer provided a refreshing contrast to the savory indulgence of the pizza, and I found myself halfway through the can before I even realized it.
A surprising belch escaped my lips, and I quickly stifled it with a hand, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement washing over me. Thankfully, Yarder remained undisturbed, his slumber uninterrupted by my less-than-ladylike manners.
With the last slice of pizza in hand, I slipped back under the covers of the bed, the warmth enveloping me like a comforting embrace. As I settled in, my mind drifted to the unlikely turn of events that had brought me here, to safety and sanctuary, with Yarder sleeping just a few feet away.
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined finding myself in such a situation. And yet, here I was, surrounded by uncertainty yet strangely at peace.
Was this the calm before the storm? I wondered, the weight of the unknown pressing upon me. Only time would tell what lay ahead, whether the worst was yet to come or if we had already weathered the storm.
But for now, in this moment of quiet solitude, I allowed myself to savor the fleeting sense of safety and security that Yarder’s presence provided, knowing that whatever the future held, I was not alone.
Chapter Seven
Poppy
Two days had slipped by in a blur since I arrived at the clubhouse, enveloped by a haze of exhaustion that seemed to cling to me. Time lost its meaning as I drifted in and out of sleep, seeking refuge from the chaos that had become my life.
It was the middle of the day, sunlight filtering weakly through the curtains of the one window, casting a muted glow across the room. I sat on the edge of the bed, silently attempting to muster the courage to venture out to the kitchen. Yarder had been kind enough to bring me food the past two days, but the thought of being waited on anymore filled me with a sense of discomfort. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his gestures; it was just something I wasn’t accustomed to.
Yarder had mentioned that he only used the room for sleep, and I had found solace in the moments when he was present, even if only briefly. Now, fully rested and feeling somewhat restored, I needed to stop acting like an invalid.
With a resigned sigh, I finally opened the door. But as the door swung open, I was met with a sight that left me utterly bewildered.
Standing before me was a boy, no more than twelve years old, clad in jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt. His hair, slightly tousled, fell across his forehead in a mess, giving him a mischievous air. He was undeniably cute, but the sight of him in the Iron Fiends clubhouse was odd.
“Oh my god,” I gasped, my heart racing in my chest as I struggled to make sense of the situation.
“Hi!” the boy greeted cheerfully, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Uh, hi?” I replied, my confusion clear in my voice as I took a cautious step back.
“We’ve all been taking bets on when you would finally wake up,” the boy explained, his excitement palpable. “I had between ten and one today.” Pumping his fist in the air triumphantly, he exclaimed, “I won!”
I blinked, trying to process his words. Bets? Waking up? What on earth was going on?
Before I could formulate a coherent response, the boy continued, seemingly oblivious to my confusion. “I’m Rocky,” he introduced himself, extending a hand in greeting.
“Poppy,” I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper as I tentatively shook his hand.
Rocky’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Nice to meet you, Poppy, but I already knew your name. Welcome to the clubhouse!”
I offered a weak smile in return, still reeling from the unexpected encounter. “Thanks, Rocky. Uh, is your mom around?”
As if on cue, the door at the end of the hallway swung open, revealing Yarder, his expression a curious blend of amusement and exasperation. “Rocky, what are you doing bothering Poppy?” Yarder chided gently, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately.
Rocky shrugged. “I’m just welcoming her to the clubhouse, Mr. Yarder. You said I could say hi when she was awake, so I came to say hi!”
Yarder sighed, shooting me an apologetic glance. “Rocky tends to get a bit overzealous sometimes.”
“It’s okay,” I replied, offering a reassuring smile. Despite the unexpected interruption, there was something endearing about Rocky’s enthusiasm. I could only imagine what fun it would be to be his age, and get to grow up in the clubhouse of an MC. It was probably an adventure for him every day.
Yarder nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before turning back to Rocky. “Alright, buddy, why don’t you go find the others and see if they need any help with anything?”
“Okay!” Rocky exclaimed, darting off down the hallway with a boundless energy that seemed to define him.
