Final Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 9) (21 page)

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask in disbelief.

“His kidneys are shutting down. Says it’s complications with his diabetes. He’s been sneaking to dialysis for months.”

“Okay, so why is he speaking up now?” I ask, my hands trembling.

Kate blows out a shaky breath, “He only told us today because he is running out of options. Treatments aren’t working as well as the doctor had hoped. He’s dying, Rach.”

“No,” I gasp into the phone. “This isn’t real. This can’t be happening.” My chest tightens at the thought of losing my father.

“He’s refusing to go on the transplant list. Stubborn, old man told us it’s too late anyway. That he’s made his bed, now it’s time to lie in it.”

“That’s bullshit. There has to be other options. A second opinion?” I say, my mind spinning.

“We can’t let this happen,” she sobs into the phone.

“I’m coming home,” I reply without hesitation.

“You are?” she hiccups. Taking a deep breath, I can hear her softly counting to ten to calm herself down.

“Yes,” I reply. “I’ll see you soon.”

Hanging up, I force myself to hold it together. My number one priority is getting Alyssa and me home to St. Louis. I need to be with my family. Besides, there is nothing holding me here in North Carolina anymore. Going to the hall closet, I grab our suitcases. Once I quietly pack the baby’s things, I sneak into the bedroom to begin sorting my own.

Tim is wrapped in the comforter long ways across the bed. My heart aches knowing that we don’t have the relationship that I so desperately want. The exact thing my Mom will be giving up if my Dad dies. They are a poster board model of what it looks like to be incredibly in love. Always touching, laughing, and kissing. After nearly thirty years together, they have never lost that playful infatuation with each other. What I have with Tim is nothing like that; why the hell have I been fighting so hard for it?

The thought of walking away seems like the only option now. It’s crystal clear that even if Dad wasn’t sick, I can’t stay here anymore. It is what is best for Alyssa and me. It is time for Tim to know that I have found my backbone and that I refuse to live this way any longer.

After placing our bags by the door, I dress in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. It may be March, but in North Carolina weather is unpredictable. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I take a breath and nudge Tim.

Groaning he rolls over, “What?”

“We need to talk and this can’t wait,” I blurt out, knowing that he is pissed that I have woken him up.

Yanking the cover from his face, he glares at me. “You’re waking me up to talk? Oh, this better be fucking important, woman. That’s all I know.”

I take a deep breath, determined not to let him get to me again. This time I will find my voice. “My sister called.”

“What did that bitch want?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

“Dad’s sick. They need me so I’m going home,” I say pushing back the emotions those words bring to the surface. Part of me wishes he would comfort me, to give me one ounce of the love and support I have given him, but Tim won’t do that. I have learned not to expect it anymore.

His eyes harden, his lips pressing into a hard line. “As usual, you’re giving me no notice. You make plans and I’m what, supposed to just roll with it? You damn well know I can’t take time off with such short notice.”

“I know. I also didn’t ask you.” I nod, attempting to hide the sarcasm in my voice. “Everything the baby and I need is packed, just throw out the rest, I guess.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” he snaps. Leaning up in bed, he glares at me angrily.

This is where I would usually buckle. That all too familiar feeling creeps over me, making me want to recoil and hide.

Lie down, little doormat. Run from the confrontation because you’re too weak to fight back.

I don’t want all the yelling, or the tears. But, the look on his face tells me it is far too late for that now. Taking a deep breath, I cling to every ounce of strength I have and do the one thing I should have done a long time ago.

I let him have it.

“Just facing the truth. You should be thanking me. Hell, I think it’s about time we lay it all out. You don’t want me, don’t need me. Hell, I don’t even think you fuckin’ like me. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time it felt like we were an actual couple. So, I’m giving you a clean break. No awkwardness. No mess. Alyssa and I will be out of your hair.”

He laughs at my outburst. Sitting up in bed, he stares at me in wonder. The comforter slumps around his waist and there was a time when I would ache for him when he looked like this. Not today. The anger has officially bubbled over the surface to a point where I can’t push it back into the bottle and seal it again. I realize that what we had was never love. This is not the same man I started dating three years ago. The Tim that I fell in love with no longer exists. Now all I feel for him is resentment and sadness for wasted time.

“Wow. I thought you were done pouting,” he chuckles. “I thought before took care of that.”

That’s what it always comes back to with Tim. We fight; he calls me a baby, among other things, and then threatens to throw us out. Not even an hour later, he is all about having sex as if nothing ever happened. Nothing ever resolves or gets discussed further. No emotions and there will definitely be no apologies.

He was livid when I found out I was pregnant. Instantly, he started barking orders. In true doormat fashion, I heeled like a damn puppy. I quit my job, moved in with him and became the ‘little woman’ without the wedding ring that he wanted so badly. Well, that is over and done.

It’s time for Rachel’s last stand

Shaking my head, I square my shoulders and continue. “Tim, I don’t know what changed and when, specifically; but I do know I’m fed up with it. I don’t like what I’ve become, what we have become. You’ve belittled me into this doormat. I won’t live like this anymore,” I say gesturing between us.

His face unchanged, he sighs. “You know how I feel. Go on if that’s what you want. Really not that much of a loss,” he grounds out, rolling over in the bed and clutching a pillow. “I’m going to bed. Lock up on your way out, will ya?”

“I can’t say that I’m surprised that you have no intention of going to say goodbye to your own daughter,” I mutter, rolling my eyes in frustration. “You really are a cold-hearted bastard sometimes.”

“Like she would know either way.” His comment should make me angry, but I feel pity for him. He can’t even see what he is missing out on.

“She may not, but you do. Your loss,” I bite out, storming through the doorway. “Pleasant dreams.”

Once I have loaded my car with our bags, I strap the baby into her carrier. Taking one last look at the place, I blow out a breath, square my shoulders, and walk out with my head held high.

I refuse to be weak another damn day in my life.

To Be Continued.

About the Author:

Cat Mason is a thirty-two year old mom to three crazy kids. Born and raised near St. Louis, Missouri, Cat prefers the slower pace of the country and currently lives on the Virginia/Tennesee border. When she isn’t spending time with her kiddos, or chasing around their various fur babies, Cat is reading, writing crazy stories filled with humor and steam, or spending time with friends and enjoying the great parts of life.