Kansas (Ruthless Kings MC Atlantic City #2) - K.L. Savage Page 0,17
hair.
The heat kicks on and warm air drifts over me, since the vent is above my head. Pressing my hands against my thighs, I stand. The room is different from Doc’s in Vegas. Where he has a basement full of hospital beds, Boomer designated a part of the motel for medical rooms. He wanted people to have their own space as they healed.
There’s a painting of Atlantic City hanging to the left on the wall and a lamp on the nightstand next to her bed. A recliner is settled in the corner and there is a bathroom attached. Even though it isn’t a hospital, it somehow manages to still smell like one.
Drives me nuts.
I give Springs one last look to make sure she’s alright, and she is sound asleep. I head out the door, keeping it open so I can hear her just in case, and walk down the hall. There are a few pictures up, not many since the club is still growing. Scarlett always carries a polaroid around so she can take pictures whenever she wants. She ends up making a collage and framing them. We have three so far.
And then there’s one of just Wolf and Abigale.
Before she died.
I rub the ache in my chest. She was my friend.
And poor Wolf, he has been fucking devastated. As he should. Abigale was the love of his life. I barely see him. He never comes out of his room, and when he does, it’s to grab another bottle of vodka. He’s drowning his pain, and Prez says to let him do it to heal, but I don’t know if Wolf is healing.
I think he might be dying.
I press a kiss to my fingers and tap Abigale’s picture before pushing an industrial size door open that leads into the main room. No one is in here. It’s quiet. The middle of the night kind of quiet. I can’t hear the waves outside like usual, but I can see the snow building against the window, right around the corners, and the middle is frozen with a sheet of ice.
When I get to the kitchen, which is off to the side of the main room, I flip on the light. Stainless steel appliances shine, and the kitchen island has a bowl of fruit on it along with a few bananas.
I don’t feel like cooking. I’m too damn tired.
“You’re up early.”
I turn to look over my shoulder to see Satyr coming through the front door.
“Me? What the hell are you doing up?” I open the pantry and grab a box of Captain Crunch. My all-time favorite cereal.
“I can’t sleep.” He plops on the couch and snags the remote from the coffee table. “So I heard you had yourself a little sleepover.”
The cereal pops as I pour the milk into the bowl. “It wasn’t like that. She wanted me there because she felt safe.”
“You’re interested.”
I open the farmhouse chic fucking drawers that Scarlett loves so much, grab a spoon, and slam it shut with my hip. I stuff my mouth full, so I don’t have to talk to him.
“Man, you’re in there every day. You wait for her to talk to you. To say something, but nothing is ever said, yet you continue to go in there.”
I lift a shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal about it.
“You like her. Admit it.”
“I don’t even know her name. I don’t know enough about her to like her.” It isn’t wrong, but I can’t say I’m not drawn to her. I am. It’s powerful enough to make me want to get to know her. It’s strong enough for me to push my fears to the side and try to have something that I can consider mine. “I want to get to know her if the opportunity presents itself, but I don’t know if it will. She’s been through so much. Her fucking parents died on that boat. The last thing she needs is me lusting after her.”
“You like her. You want to kiss her. You want to hug her. You want fuck her. You want to hold her.” He snaps his fingers and dances to the song he is singing. “You want to wine her. You want to dine her. You want—”
I shut him up by throwing an orange at him and it hits him right in the head.
“Ow, what was that for?” he rubs his forehead and bends down to pick the fruit up off the floor, then begins to peel it.