Fallon by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

Fallon

 

 

 

 

I'd been raised around a lot of strong women.

And it was always utterly shocking when you saw one of them crack. Because you'd see them withstand so much, endure the weight of the world on their shoulders without slowing their stride, without missing a step. It became easy to think they were indestructible, that nothing could break them.

Something had broken Danny, that was for sure.

I'd seen the wild sort of panic in her eyes as I'd opened the door.

And then she'd cracked. Right down the center. Making her curl forward to try to hold herself together.

But there was no use.

I knew from watching it my whole life that once a strong woman cracked, she had to let herself completely fall apart for a while before putting herself back together. And all you could do was be there for her.

So that was what I did for Danny.

I pulled her through the house and into my bedroom where the blinds were drawn, so Dezi and Crow who were pulling guard shift wouldn't see her if they walked around the house to make sure everything was as it should be.

Her tears soaked through my shirt as I pulled her with me into the recliner one of the guys had given me as a housewarming present that hadn't fit in the living room thanks to the sectional just barely fitting.

Settling her on my lap, my hands sifted through her hair, down her back, just waiting for her to run through all the tears.

It seemed like it took hours. Which probably made a lot of sense since I doubted the life she'd led ever allowed her to feel vulnerable enough to cry. She had a lifetime of pain stored away. Once she gave it a way to escape, it did so in floods.

"Any better?" I asked when she finally stopped sniffling.

"No," she grumbled. "And now my head hurts," she griped, and it was such a pathetic sound that I almost laughed, but I knew she'd probably rip my balls off if I dared.

"I have some aspirin in the bathroom if you'll let me up. No?" I asked when she shook her head, settling more securely onto my lap without outright wrapping her arms around me. "What happened, babe?"

"They kicked me out."

"Wait... what? Who kicked you out?"

"My club."

It was right then that I realized she wasn't wearing her cut. Every single time I'd seen her, she'd had it on. Over her tanks and tees, over her sweatshirts. She was never without proof of the position she'd clearly worked hard for.

"What? What do you mean they kicked you out? Who? Why?"

"Chewy. My vice president," she clarified. "He kicked me out with the help of most of those traitorous bastards."

"Why?"

"You," she said, taking a breath so deep that it shook her whole body.

"Me?"

"More specifically, the conclusions they came to about you and me. Not entirely inaccurate conclusions, I might add. But still."

"Did they give you a chance to explain that we've been working together?"

"Not really. I did try to explain, but there was no use. Chewy has been working on this for a while. He had it planned out perfectly. He even made sure the men who were most loyal to me were nowhere around while he riled up the others, and got them to rally against me. They made me leave my fucking bike," she admitted, voice turning bitter. "My bike, my cut, my belongings, my fucking club. My club. I was the one busting my fucking ass since I was twelve years old to prove I had what it took to run with the guys, to get them to respect me. I was the one who endured a fucking lifetime of hate and vitriol and every single person I ever met doubting my abilities, no matter how hard I worked, no matter how many of them I showed up."

"I can't imagine your own fucking vice president staging a fucking coup," I admitted.

Sure, true, most clubs weren't like the Henchmen. They didn't become, for all intents and purposes, a family. A brotherhood, sure, but not a family. So it was hard to compare the kind of loyalty me and mine felt to a club that didn't have the same mindset, but still. It was beyond fucked up.

"I didn't pick him," Danny said, her fingers toying with a loose thread on the hem of my sleeve. "My father always liked him, so he insisted I take him on as my second-in-command when he finally gave me the club. In retrospect, he'd done so to have Chewy keep an eye, spy on me, and report back to him."

"Does your father know about the coup?"

"By now, probably. I'm sure Chewy was all-too-happy to get him on the phone after he all but shoved me out of the door."

"And your father would be okay with what he did?"

"After hearing I've been fucking you? Yeah, probably. Which is bullshit, because if I was a guy and I fucked the female president of a rival club, they'd probably call me a fucking hero."

"Don't know about that," I said, wondering what the men in my club might say about the whole situation. Especially if they found out in such a confrontational way like Chewy had stepped to Danny. "What about the men you'd say are most loyal to? The ones who weren't there?"

"There's only five of them. Three were nowhere to be seen. Grandpa, Pops, and Junior. They are family, hence the names. Then Munch was off..."

"Munching on muff," I supplied, lips twitching at the phrase.

"Yeah. And Dutch, my Sergeant at Arms, he was so fucking shit-faced that he had to crawl to the toilet to puke. I've never seen him like that before. I'm starting to think someone slipped him something."

"But once he sobers up?"

"He would try to say something. They all would. But they're outnumbered. And unless they want to risk losing what they have also worked their whole lives for, they would have to just fall in line."

"This is so fucked up, babe," I said, giving her a squeeze.

"I know," she agreed, voice small again. "I shouldn't have blubbered all over you," she added, body starting to tense now that she realized how vulnerable she'd been with me. And, I figured, in her life, vulnerability was never okay. Someone in her life would have used it against her.

"Don't," I demanded, voice soft and firm at the same time.

"Don't what?"

"Don't shut down. I don't care that you blubbered on me. You went through some shit tonight, Danny. Anyone would be upset. Doesn't matter that you cried."

"I never cry."

"Clearly," I said, snorting. "That's why you had so much of it in you. You don't need to feel weird about it with me. I was raised by a shitton of strong women, remember? I'm not like those assholes you've always known. I don't think you're weak because you had a bad night."

"It's going to be a lot more than a bad night," she said, taking a deep breath, then sighing it out. "That was all I had. All I was. I have nothing now."

"Listen, doom-spiraling isn't going to help," I cut her off. "And I call bullshit on it being all you are. Yeah, you were a president. But that is just a position. Not who you are. Who you are is someone who was badass enough to get that position because she is a hard worker, because she's stubborn, because she refuses to quit, because she was ambitious and determined. That is who you are. And you are still all those things even without the club. And because you are all those things, you'll figure out something else to be too. Once you have some time to think about it."

She was silent for a long time after that. Hopefully, taking in my words, letting herself start to believe them.

"I don't know what to do, where to go," she said, thinking out loud.

"Well, what you're going to do is take a shower. Or bath. Place came with this sweet tub. Not my thing, but it's there. Then, from there, you're going to go into the bed," I told her, watching as her head tipped back to look up at me, brows drawn together like my words weren't making sense.

"What?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Bath, bed," I repeated. "You can steal a tee," I added. "And I am going to attempt to cook a freezer pizza without burning the fucking place down. Then we'll eat that pizza. And you will get some sleep."

"No."

"No to which part? Freezer pizza might not be the top choice, but it's what I got. Might have some dinosaur nuggets," I added.

"Like a normal grown-up," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"When I moved in, my Ma did a fridge and freezer fill-up. She went with all the shit I used to eat as a teen. Pizza, nuggets, corn dogs, Hot Pockets, those queso dips in glass to dip chips in, and those mac and cheeses you throw in the microwave for like three minutes."

"I miss those," she admitted.

"I can whip those together. In fact, I can be a good host and make you two packets."

"Two whole packets? How'd I get so lucky?" she shot back, and this time, the smile was more than a hint.

"Alright, up," I urged, nudging her. "Into the bath. I will work on the food."

With that, she climbed off my lap and let me lead her to the master bathroom. I was just in the doorway to the rest of the house when she spoke again.

"Hey, Fallon?"

"Yeah, babe?" I asked, turning back.

"I wouldn't, you know, turn down some dinosaur nuggets," she said, giving me what I could only call a shy smile. Shy. Danny. Who'd have fucking thunk it?

"I can make that happen," I agreed, shooting her a wink, then moving into the hall, and closing the door behind me.

As I moved into the kitchen to make the food, listening to the water running in the bathroom, I had a strange thought cross my mind.

I liked this.

I liked having someone in my house, someone in my room, in my bath, someone to make shitty food for, to eat it with.

I could get used to it.

Maybe I even wanted to.

If I was careful about my approach, I might even be able to get Danny to agree to it too.