“I sent some boys to get you some things from your place.” He shakes his head at me. “Only, it was trashed, babe. Sass has gone out to buy you some girl shit. She’ll meet us at the clubhouse. You okay to ride, or you want me to call for a car?”

“I can ride,” I whisper.

Numbly, I take the extra helmet from him and climb onto the bike. Once I’m situated behind him, he starts the engine, and the bike comes to life under us.

Placing my hands softly on each side of his hips, I relax as he rolls us forward before taking off.

One thing I have learned in my time with the Hellions is there is nothing more soothing than the freedom of the open road.

The wind hits my face, and I breathe it in.

Do you feel free from whatever you got yourself into, Suzie?

Chapter

5

~Hammer~

Healing. What a crock of epic shit.

I survived. I lived. I’m one lucky son of bitch.

They all remind me how fortunate I am.

Fortunate? What kind of life could I possibly live in this chair?

Confinement. Entrapment. Imprisonment.

Four months have passed since the mission that went FUBAR. I’m tired of looking at this cold, sterile hospital room and smelling antiseptic solution. At least I was asleep for the first two weeks. My body was too worn out to do anything more than eat, sleep, and poop, kind of like a baby. Well, that’s what I fucking felt like.

The last three and a half months, I have spent my waking hours listening to these gossipy-ass nurses talk about their daytime TV shows, which doctors are banging which nurses in the supply rooms, and how they are tired of cleaning up other people’s shit. Literally.

I have no freedoms. Hell, when people look at you and make wiping your own ass a milestone, your life is seriously fucked up. Yes, I can now wipe my own ass; check that one off the list, along with transferring myself from my bed to my chair.

My chair—those two words are a bitter pill to swallow. What some might consider freedom in the form of a rolling seat attached to two wheels, I consider a prison. And the irony is that, for the first time in my life, I’m stuck on two wheels that aren’t my motorcycle.

Yet, all these chipper fucking nurses keep reminding me of the amazing quality of life I can have as I continue to heal.

They don’t get it. They focus on all the little things I can do while my mind swims in what I can’t do.

What I can’t do is work. What I can’t do is walk. What I can’t do is run. What I can’t do is drive. What I can’t do is chase down a motherfucker. What I can’t do is shit!

I can’t even fuck.

Sure, my dick gets hard … science and all that bullshit. The minute I move my hands to the wheels on my chair to move, though, nothing is hard anymore. The reminder of my immobility is more than a buzz kill … It is a life kill.

Everything about my life has changed, and not for the better.

Sure, I may walk again in time. The doctors are hopeful. Prognosis is good. Oh, how everyone loves to tell me that one.

Running, working—those are still questionable.

Traveling—that is one cruel joke now. A metal screw holds me together. Yeah, those airport security people will love me. Wheelchair or no wheelchair, if I see one airport security guy pull on a latex glove while looking at me, I’m going to jail for a whole lot of different reasons than setting off some damn alarms.

The therapist spouts off about the healing process emotionally. Seriously, if my dick would stay hard, I would tell the fucker to suck it and shove all these emotions up his ass. However, my dick won’t work right, and since I’m apparently growing a pussy, I will tell him my emotions.

Hatred.

Anger.

Disgust.

There ya go, doc. Choke on those.

Part of me is glad I’m stuck here at this rehabilitation center and not at home. I don’t want my brothers to see me like this. They still come to visit me, but they aren’t here long enough to see me struggle just to go to the bathroom or when I need help to bathe myself. Even if I do get my legs back, I will never want another woman in the shower with me again. Being helpless enough to have broads help wash me has cured me of that particular sexual enjoyment.

What I wouldn’t do for a beer and my recliner right now. Instead, I’m living in this sterile room for the time being without the comforts of home. The one time Ice tried to sneak in a couple of beers, the nurse sniffed that shit out as soon as I popped the tab on the can.

Tags: Chelsea Camaron Regulators MC Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net