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“Hey, you said it.”
I only threatened it to get a reaction out of him, but I don’t want to tell him that. I don’t want him to know the game I’m playing. “Maybe I will spit in your food then. And I’ll smile while you eat it.”
“Go for it, kitten.”
Frustrated, I huff out a breath and go back to cooking. I wish I could remember what happened last night. It seems like in my memory he was speaking to me, but no matter how hard I try, I’m struggling to recall any of the words. I don’t normally have to fight for memories. I’m normally fighting them off, battling them back down so they won’t bother me during the day.
But this one, something I want to relive, I can’t even drum up enough to know if it was actually real.
Skids
I’m not purposefully being an ass to Phoebe, but she’s trying to push my buttons and I’m already too close to the edge to let her do that. Thoughts are swirling through my head and driving me nuts. I need to get myself under control. Falling asleep next to Phoebe and waking up wrapped around her like that is unacceptable and strange. If she had caught me like that, who knows how she would have felt about it.
“Breakfast is ready!”
Thank god. I’m starving. “Did you spit in it?” The thought of her doing that amuses me so much I could barely hold back laughter when she mentioned it.
“Yes, sir. Just for you,” she says, giving me a mischievous grin and batting her eyelashes at me.
I’m about to react when a beeping sound halts me. I jump forward as Phoebe shrinks back. My main monitor has gone white with an alert, and I click to open the camera feed that will show me what the motion sensor is warning me about.
There’s a motorcycle coming up the street and coming fast. “Fuck, Pres is coming.” He’s the only one that would show up unannounced.
Phoebe hasn’t moved and I let out a groan, knowing that I’m going to have to calm her back down once he leaves. “Why?” she whispers, tucking herself back into a corner in the kitchen.
“He’s probably coming to check on you.” I keep my voice even despite the frustration in hopes that she won’t panic. He’s going to be pissed and if he starts something it’s going to freak her out. I’ll keep the gate closed. Keeping him on the other side of the fence might help keep things from devolving into a total mess.
She should feel comfortable around him. She has to retain some ability to participate in conversations and social activities. Once Kitten Rehab is completed, she’s going to need to have those skills to be able to assimilate back into society. She’ll need to trust her boss and be able to work with the public, so my job right now is to keep this unexpected visit from becoming another traumatic memory for Phoebe.
“Why?” she asks again, not moving from her chosen hideaway.
“I’ve been ignoring his texts.” I also haven’t been dialing in for Church when he calls for it, so he’s probably going to be a little pissed about that as well. “Come on. We’ll meet him outside.”
Respect and loyalty are big deals in the club, and I appreciate all that, but I’m not a high school girl running to tell Dad about everything that happens. I can handle Phoebe by myself, and not only do I not need him to hold my hand and walk me through it, I don’t want him to. Any input he may have on the situation at this point is not necessary.
Phoebe accepts my offered hand, letting me hug her to my side. I can feel her anxiety threading through the air, so I tighten my grip as we walk out. I can’t reach her hand from the right angle this way, but if she panics I’ll have to try drawing circles against her shoulder or her side to bring her back to the present.
Pres has already dismounted his bike and is standing at the gate when we get outside. He looks just as angry as I expected and Phoebe stiffens against my side, nervous.
“What’s up, Pres?” I call out while we approach the fence, until Phoebe tightens the hand in my shirt and I pull us to a stop.
This is exactly why. Phoebe doesn’t feel safe outside the house anymore, even around Pres who she’s known far longer than she’s known me. This is why she needs to do this even more, so that she doesn’t forget that people and things exist outside my compound.
Pres’s face doesn’t hide any of his disbelief. “Good to see you’re both alive. How are you doing, Phoebe?”
“I’m good,” she says, tucking herself just a little further behind me.
Pres turns to me and his nostrils flare. “What’s going on here, Skids? What have you been doing with that girl?”
I know how it probably looks to him, but she’s clearly hiding behind me and not running to him to save her. Is he not seeing that? “You trusted me enough to send her off with me but you don’t trust me to take care of her now?”
“That’s not what I said,” Pres says, tilting his head to the side as he deflects the words I’m laying out before him. “I’ll admit, I’m a little concerned.”
“Why? Do you act like this with the other guys and the girls they rescued? Knuckles, Tree, and Zed all got the same treatment?”
Pres’s jaw clenches and I can tell he wants me to let him inside the gate, but fuck that. “I saw Maya and Nell every day when they moved in.” Pres is keeping his voice calm, tempering his aggression for me. He’s fucking handling me like a psycho and I hate it. “Zed fucked off on a road trip through the states before I got a chance to do anything. But this isn’t about them. This is about you-”
“Because I’mdifferent,” I grit out. He wouldn’t talk to the other guys like this. He’s doing this to me because he thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am, but he’s on the wrong side of the fence to be able to do anything about it.
