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That night, Elle didn’t have a night terror, so we slept soundly. I even slept through the next morning and woke around noon to the nurse knocking on the seaside door.
“Come in.” I already felt much better. I sat up, wondering where Elle was.
The nurse, pleased with what she saw under my bandages, gave me more antibiotics for when we hit the road again. She offered to refill my painkillers, but I explained I was only going to finish what I had remaining. Not surprised by my statement, she gave approval and left.
Propped against pillows, my body had a hankering for some tobacco. I smiled when I saw a pack of smokes perfectly placed on the nightstand, a lighter on top. They were both right next to a spotless ashtray.
That woman of mine.
I was lighting a smoke when a knock happened at the seaside door. “Come in.”
It was Brass. “Got a minute?”
“Apparently, I’m not to leave my bed, so I have many.” I held up my pack of cigarettes in offer.
“Thanks.” He came forward and snagged one.
Handing him the lighter, I said, “I really appreciate you taking us in like this. And for helping with Elle the other night. I hope we don’t cause any trouble for your club.”
“The trouble will be for uninvited guests. Not us.”
Spoken like a true Prez, so I grinned. Blowing out smoke, I wondered… “Since you don’t seem to be the ‘chatty’ type, I presume there’s a purpose to your visit.”
Now he grinned. “Am I that easy to read?”
“It’s a lifestyle. Always on guard.”
“Ain’t that the damn truth. Also, it’s why I’m here. Being on guard can… hinder growth when dealing with the gentle ones.”
Since Brass was the only man I knew who could understand what I was going through with Elle, I said, “Any advice would be greatly appreciated.”
He dipped his chin, then got right to it. “Sweets thinks Precious’ drawings can be like her dreams, offers of information.”
Looking at her pile on a chair, I nodded. “Makes sense.” I took a deep inhale of nicotine. “Sweets say anything else?”
“No, this is me talking. Don’t try to control it.”
“It?” I lifted a brow.
“Yeah, it. The process. Her healing.”
To look at Brass, you’d see death and his ability to cause it. With scarred knuckles, tattoos, weapons, and a permanent scowl, this man had been a biker for many years. He was most likely only a little older than me, but we age hard because we live hard.
For him to be speaking of ‘healing,’ I was even more convinced he could relate to my struggles with Elle. He was madly in love, too.
I said, “Keep talkin’.”
“Buckle up and hold on. Her ups and downs are going to be worse than any roller coaster. And ya have to let them all happen.”
I exhaled smoke, but I was truly exhaling control. I got what he was saying now.
He nodded slightly, turning to stare out the window. “Our MC positions are all about control, I know. Men’s lives count on it.” He crossed his arms. “You have to let her hurt, Lynx.”
I thought of the truck ride, Dag and Pops interfering every time I wanted to coddle Elle. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” His arms dropped. “Let her hurt.” He went to the door. “Even when it kills you to watch it.” He left.
Shit.
