Payback

Within minutes, he is back and we are leaving. The cool wind whips my hair around my face when I stop just outside the hospital doors to breathe in some fresh air. Jett pulls his truck around, opening the door for me. “It's just a short walk over there, you know. You didn't have to bring the truck around,” I say, climbing in carefully.

“Yeah, but I can't have you falling down and getting hurt on my watch,” he says, reaching over me to buckle my seat belt.

“I'm not completely helpless, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I do know that, I was only trying to help,” he says, trying not to laugh at me. I roll my eyes and try to hide the smile threatening to cross my lips.

“No bike today then?” I tease.

“I didn’t think that was appropriate. Also, I got one of those kid’s seats for this thing. Don’t need Ella riding on the back of some bike.” He pauses, thinking. “Ever,” he adds.

Protective already, I like that. In less than thirty minutes we're sitting in front of my new digs. Jett hands me the key and walks me to his door. “Can you stay for a little while?” I ask before I even realize it.

“Sure,” he says, walking in behind me. The room is a bit bigger than my old one and the bright yellow paint covering the walls is cheerful.

“I didn't think you would want to go back to your old place.”

“No. I didn't, but I have no idea how I can repay you for all this,” I whisper.

“Like I said before, don't worry about it.”

I smile, looking up into his green eyes, and kiss his cheek.

“Thank you,” I say, and he backs away from me. “Will you call Aunt Suz and ask if she can bring Ella to me?”

“I will call and see if she can bring Ella to visit. You still have a long way to go before you need to have all that responsibility. But I did start her room.” He leads me down a hallway past the kitchen into a room with paint cans and a dresser. “It’s not much yet, but when you’re healed up, she’ll be here with you in her own room, I promise.”

My heart aches. He made her a room. Ella. Our daughter has her own room in his house. I need to tell him but just as I’m about to, he interrupts my thoughts. “Oh, here's my number.” He hands me a small piece of paper.

“I've got to run a few errands and I'll come back, ok?” I nod, feeling like a gut-wrenching blow has been landed on my heart. “Someone from the club is posted outside, so no one is getting in here, sweetheart, you just rest.”

“One more thing,” he says, getting his helmet off the table. “A big black truck was sitting outside when I came back from getting your clothes, license plate V76LMP. Does that sound familiar?”

A surge of fear rushes through me and I begin to sweat. “Cami? Are you ok?” he asks as I begin to slide down the wall. I sit there, a crumbling mess, as tears begin to fall uncontrollably.

“Is that who did this to you?” he asks me, and all I can do is nod. “Cami, look at me.” He sits next to me. “He won't hurt you again. I’m telling you this now, and I fucking mean it.” He growls. Nodding, I look away, the anger prevalent in his eyes.

“You have my number if you need me. Do not hesitate to call me. I'll be less than ten minutes away.”

He leaves and I lock the door, placing a chair under the knob. Turning on the TV, I grab my phone and program his number onto speed dial. It's almost noon when he comes back and I'm still sitting there, staring at the door, when he knocks.

“It's me, Cami.” Getting up, I move the chair so I can open the door. He holds up a bag of fast food that smells so good.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he says, smiling.

“Yes, please come in.” Moving out of the way so he can come in, I glance out the door at the bike sitting out front.

For the next two weeks, I'm in the cottage, too afraid to venture out. Jett, Wilson, or Aunt Suz is with me always. I haven't gone back to work yet, and I feel so guilty with Jett spending all this time with me. I want… no, I need to get out of this rut and move forward. I feel like I’ve traded one dependency for another and this is not who I want to be. Pulling out my phone, I google apartments for rent near me.

I'm on the phone talking to the owner of a place I've found when Jett gets here. He looks at me funny and sits my lunch on the table. “I'm looking for an apartment,” I whisper. He nods and sits across from me, looking at me strangely. I finish my call and hang up with a sigh. “I think I found one,” I say as I shove several french fries in my mouth.

“Do you not like it here?” he asks, sounding hurt.

“Oh Jett, it’s not that. I just feel like this something I have to do for me, to fully heal. I know that’s unfair to you.” I can be such a jerk, inside my own head all the time. Not thinking about what he would want.

“Well if you’re sure…”

“I am. I’m sorry, though, I should have talked this over with you.”