Hammer (Regulators MC 2)

My graduation day came at a new school off the military base. I walked, got my diploma, and then went home to stew in thoughts of my dad not seeing me walk across the stage and how my mom was struggling.

Our family wasn’t prepared to lose the sole provider. I thought maybe I could move out, crash on a friend’s couch, and get a job to be less of a financial burden to my mom, but that still left her with my brother. At the time, I had no idea how my mother was going to take care of Evan even if I left. I remember seeing her bank account and the bills. Fact were facts; Mom needed help.

“Just remember, son, actions speak louder than words.” My father’s advice played over and over again that night until I knew what I had to do. I only knew of one place that could give me a guaranteed paycheck and a roof over my head. The following morning, I went to the recruiters.

I didn’t think; I reacted. The facts for me then seemed so simple. Mom needed money, and I felt a need to serve, to be close to my father in the only way I saw possible. Since my dad had supported us all by joining the Army, I would, too. Simple enough. Only, it wasn’t so simple when selection came, and the opportunity to be one of the elite presented itself.

I had been forced to let go of my dreams of college and a football scholarship, so there was no way I was going to give up any new opportunities that came my way.

I made the wash. I earned my green beret. I joined my Special Forces team.

I also left my mother to deal with my brother on her own.

I hang my head in shame now, thinking of how that led to Evan’s addiction.

I forgot about Evan. He lost his dad, too, and then his brother left for the Army. In a lot of ways, his mother left, too. She went from a stay-at-home mom to a sole provider overnight. My brother was getting into trouble, yet it wasn’t anything Mom couldn’t handle. Well, that was what I told myself. As long as I kept sending the checks home, they would be okay. Right?

“Stop it, Ethan,” Evan says. “Don’t go there. You’re not responsible for my actions.”

He can say that all day and night, but I can’t help wondering how different things would be if I hadn’t left them behind. How disappointed my father would be if he knew I failed our family when they needed me the most.

~Desirae~

“Push through it,” I yell out at the badass, tattooed biker in front of me as he grunts and continues to pull himself up on the bar.

I continue my own chin-ups as the sweat rolls down his face. “Drive over it!”

His workout is almost done. Cool down is just around the corner. Three more reps and I will ease up. Until then, charge on.

“They call you Tank! Show me!”

Boom. Boom. Boom. He pumps out his final reps then drops from the bar as he lets out a war cry of success.

“Damn, Des, I thought physical therapy was torture enough,” Frank ‘Tank’ Oleander states as he wipes his face with a hand towel.

I smile over at him as he begins his stretches for cool down. “PT was for healing. Exercise now is for well-being.”

“My being is well, babe. No need to bust my ass.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna bust your ass. I do remember you calling me Drill Sergeant Bust Your Balls, so I wanna bust your balls, buddy.”

We both laugh at the memory as his ol’ lady comes in, carrying ‘Red,’ their son.

“Don’t bust the jewels too much, Des. I might wanna play with them later, girlie.” She winks at her man, and the beast of a biker immediately smiles at her.

I met Tank when he was a patient at the rehabilitation facility I used to work at. After getting shot six times and pulling out of a coma, his road to recovery was a long process. When he was released to come home, the Hellions Motorcycle Club hired me full-time as his personal physical therapist. Now that he is back to one hundred percent, I work as a personal trainer for all the boys who want it.

Life is good for me here with the Haywood’s Landing charter of the Hellions. I never imagined becoming a personal physical therapist turned trainer for a group of broody bikers. However, life has this way of throwing curve balls at you when you least expect it. Not to mention, the perk that I was now paid more with the Hellions as my only clients than at my last few jobs. As Roundman, the Hellions’ president, bluntly informed me in a meeting, “You have to deal with a bunch of knuckleheads, and I’m afraid you’ll quit if the pay isn’t good enough.”