Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,82
starting to get too much for me, and a headache is beginning to kick off.
“See you tomorrow,” I call out as I step toward my bike.
“Pip wants to meet at eleven.”
I raise my hand in a half-wave, half-salute. “I’ll be there.”
Turning my hearing aids down with one hand, I switch on the engine with the other, then kick down into first and head out across town. It’s a nice clear summer night, warm and peaceful after the din of the clubhouse. Half of me wants to keep on riding, but the rest of me is tired and sleepy, so I head straight home and turn into my driveway. I point the remote, and the garage door opens. Soon, my bike is parked next to the jeep which I use in winter.
Home is a small single-storey house with just two beds and one-and-a-half baths, just the right size for a single person like me. It’s quite quaint looking with shutters on the windows, and I’d fallen in love immediately after I’d seen it. It’s on the edge of the city with daylight views out across the farmland toward the distant mountains beyond.
While I was in the army, I’d lived mostly in barracks and was used to having people around. When I lost my hearing, I also lost living among others at the time I needed them most. One of the carrots Pip had held out when he wanted me to join the MC had been living in the clubhouse where I wasn’t alone.
From the moment I joined as a prospect, I could relax at night, confident that someone would wake me should there be an intruder or a fire. But I was also aware that I was an adult and needed to learn to cope with what I had lost. Being weak isn’t in my nature, and I was determined not to let fear rule my life, so I pulled up my big girl pants and bought myself a house.
At first, I’d felt uneasy living here on my own, and stayed infrequently. During the daytime it’s no problem, but at night I’d lie awake, worried I was going to be taken unawares, every one of my soldiering instinct telling me I had to be conscious of my surroundings at all times.
The MC stepped in once again. Without asking, Honor and Duty had scoped out some equipment and helped me to install the security system an ant would have difficulty getting in without my tactile alarms waking me. A fire? Again, I’d be jolted awake and lights would also flash to warn me. Should the main electricity fail, I had a backup generator to make sure all my systems continued functioning normally.
Looking around now, a smile comes to my face. I had had to stop Honor’s technical skill being combined with Thor’s mechanical genius to make the ejector bed that I hadn’t been one hundred percent certain they’d been joking about. I wanted to be woken, I’d objected, not shot up into the air. I grin at the memory that enters my head. It had been a joke, surely?
Each time I stay it’s with less trepidation. Having the confidence to live alone is like becoming an adult all over again. My vulnerability no longer defining me. I’m proud at what I’ve achieved, and how I don’t let my PTSD beat me.
I’m safe here. It’s my sanctuary. This is my space, my home. As I enter the living room, I glance around and smile at the photographs I have on display—the ones of my mum and dad in the pub where I grew up. I remember those times so fondly. I really need to take some time off and go visit them. It would be good to see them again, and I know they’d love to see me. I don’t regret making my new life so far away, but at times, I do get homesick. Like any kid, grown or not, I miss my mum’s cooking.
Leaving my keys in the dish on the table by the door that I’ve placed there for that purpose, I grab a bottle of water and take it into my bedroom and place it beside my neatly made bed. Old habits die hard, and I still make it exactly the same way that I had to in the army. In fact, my whole house is clean and tidy. I can’t abide mess.
All my dirty clothes go straight into my laundry basket, and I shower, then find a tank