Undaunted (The Kings of Retribution MC)

“She doesn’t feel beautiful, and she’s not going to ever be the same, on the inside. Until she does, all you can do is wait. Be there for her when she does let you in.” Reid finishes, as he motions to Blake for another beer.

Releasing a breath, I raise my head, looking at my reflection in the mirror that hangs on the wall behind the bar. She doesn’t deserve to see me like this.

I clasp my hand on the back of Reid’s neck. “Thanks, brother. It felt good to talk with someone. I’m gonna head to the kitchen, make some coffee. I don’t want to go home shit-faced.”

“I’ll join you. I’m not feeling the party atmosphere tonight.” He mumbles.

It’s around midnight once I make it home. Reid and I bullshitted for a couple hours. Reliving some good times and sharing memories from our childhoods.

I’m too beat to shower, so I strip out of my clothes and climb into bed. Bella tenses for a moment as I pull her into me. The smell of her vanilla lotion soothes me, the touch of her skin as I wrap my arms around her quiets the noise in my head.

“I love you, Angel.” I quietly whisper in her ear.

“I love you,” she says in a sleepy voice, almost too low to hear.

I’m riding out to the lake today, to try and clear my head. The conversation I had with Reid last night is on a continuous loop and I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything else.

I can’t get my mind to focus on anything but Bella, and the distance she’s putting between us, so I told her that I had club shit to deal with. I shouldn’t lie, but I need some breathing room and space to think.

She’s still having nightmares at least once a week, but refuses to talk to me about them. To top it off, she is still hiding her body from me.

“Fuck,” I yell into the wind while driving down the road.

Riding down the dirt road that leads to the lake my mom and aunt are buried, I notice a blacked-out SUV parked a few yards ahead. I roll to a stop and the driver’s door opens and out steps Victor, my Dad’s driver and right-hand man.

I kill my bike’s engine and put the kickstand down. “Victor. Is my dad in there?” I point to the vehicle.

“No. He is over there,” he says in a thick Russian accent, pointing to his right.

When I scan over in the direction Victor is pointing, I see my father knelt directly in front of my mom’s headstone. His palm splayed over the top, looking more like he’s using it to keep himself upright than anything.

Letting out a ragged breath, I make my way to him. As I get closer I notice the subtle shake of his shoulders, showing he’s having a moment. I hang back, letting the man collect himself.

Taking a deep breath and letting it back out he speaks without turning around. “I heard the rumble of your bike as you pulled up, son. I apologize for my current state, I could no longer stay away. I had to come pay my respects to the only woman I have ever loved.”

Walking up behind him, I place my right hand on his left shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Letting him know that I understand. That I’m here for him. My gesture, though unspoken, is loud and clear. His shoulders slump and he hangs his head.

“Thank you, son.”

Standing a few seconds later, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold coin, placing it on top of the headstone. I’ve heard about customs like this. Where people leave coins on the graves of loved ones. Greek mythology. It’s a toll of some sorts, also a sign of respect.

Turning towards me, my father appraises me. “You look tired, Logan. Is everything okay?” He questions.

Shit. I wasn’t aware I looked how I felt on the inside. I run my hand through my hair and rub the back of my neck, my muscles tight with tension.

“I’m good, Dad. Nothing to worry about.” I try to assure him.

“How is your woman, Bella? I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I didn’t want to overstep my welcome by prying into your personal life. Is she adjusting well at home?”

We start walking towards the waterfront, stopping to take a seat on an old tree log. I contemplate sharing anything. “She could be doing better. The nightmares are getting fewer though,” I divulge.

“And you? How are you doing?”

I let out a long sigh before giving him a clipped, short answer, “Tired.”

“Yes. She is worth it though. Am I right?” My dad asks.

As exhausted as I am mentally over the whole situation, I can honestly say that my woman is worth it. I’m just hoping one day she will see her worth too. I plan on showing her unconditionally every day that she is loved. I won’t give up on her. Even if she wants to give up on herself, “Yes, she’s worth it.”