My Hero, page 4
And as I stood by her side, watching over her slumber, I made a silent promise to myself. No matter what the future held, I would be there for her, every step of the way. For in her, I had found something worth fighting for, something worth protecting with every fiber of my being.
Poppy
The darkness enveloped me as I stirred from sleep, the unfamiliar surroundings momentarily disorienting. Panic gripped me for a fleeting moment before the realization dawned upon me—I was in Yarder’s room at the clubhouse.
A low, rumbling snore echoed from the nearby couch, drawing my attention. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to where Yarder lay, his form illuminated by the dim light filtering through the window. Asleep, he seemed almost vulnerable, the blanket draped haphazardly over his half-clad form.
Shirtless, only in black sweatpants, Yarder appeared far less intimidating in slumber. In this moment, he seemed almost approachable, a stark contrast to the rough and tumble exterior he presented to the world. And yet, despite his gruff exterior, Yarder had taken it upon himself to become my personal savior.
I had always dreamed of a hero, someone who would swoop in during my darkest moments and whisk me away to safety. But life had taught me early on that such fantasies were nothing more than childish illusions. Until Yarder entered my life.
He owed me nothing, and yet he had taken it upon himself to protect me, to shield me from the dangers that lurked in the shadows. And what had I done in return? Gotten myself tangled up with dangerous men, unwittingly leading them straight to the doorstep of the man who had become my unlikely guardian.
Real smooth, Poppy, I chided myself inwardly, a pang of guilt gnawing at my conscience.
But as my bladder protested its urgent need, practical matters took precedence. I slipped away to the bathroom, taking care not to disturb Yarder’s slumber.
Upon my return, my eyes fell to a sight that stirred both hunger and gratitude—a plate of pizza and an unopened can of root beer sat atop the dresser, a silent offering from Yarder, no doubt. My stomach rumbled in response, reminding me of its emptiness.
Without hesitation, I devoured two slices of pizza as if I hadn’t eaten in days, relishing in the familiar flavors that offered a brief respite from the chaos that had consumed my life. The fizzy sweetness of the root beer provided a refreshing contrast to the savory indulgence of the pizza, and I found myself halfway through the can before I even realized it.
A surprising belch escaped my lips, and I quickly stifled it with a hand, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement washing over me. Thankfully, Yarder remained undisturbed, his slumber uninterrupted by my less-than-ladylike manners.
With the last slice of pizza in hand, I slipped back under the covers of the bed, the warmth enveloping me like a comforting embrace. As I settled in, my mind drifted to the unlikely turn of events that had brought me here, to safety and sanctuary, with Yarder sleeping just a few feet away.
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined finding myself in such a situation. And yet, here I was, surrounded by uncertainty yet strangely at peace.
Was this the calm before the storm? I wondered, the weight of the unknown pressing upon me. Only time would tell what lay ahead, whether the worst was yet to come or if we had already weathered the storm.
But for now, in this moment of quiet solitude, I allowed myself to savor the fleeting sense of safety and security that Yarder’s presence provided, knowing that whatever the future held, I was not alone.
Chapter Seven
Poppy
Two days had slipped by in a blur since I arrived at the clubhouse, enveloped by a haze of exhaustion that seemed to cling to me. Time lost its meaning as I drifted in and out of sleep, seeking refuge from the chaos that had become my life.
It was the middle of the day, sunlight filtering weakly through the curtains of the one window, casting a muted glow across the room. I sat on the edge of the bed, silently attempting to muster the courage to venture out to the kitchen. Yarder had been kind enough to bring me food the past two days, but the thought of being waited on anymore filled me with a sense of discomfort. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his gestures; it was just something I wasn’t accustomed to.
Yarder had mentioned that he only used the room for sleep, and I had found solace in the moments when he was present, even if only briefly. Now, fully rested and feeling somewhat restored, I needed to stop acting like an invalid.
With a resigned sigh, I finally opened the door. But as the door swung open, I was met with a sight that left me utterly bewildered.
Standing before me was a boy, no more than twelve years old, clad in jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt. His hair, slightly tousled, fell across his forehead in a mess, giving him a mischievous air. He was undeniably cute, but the sight of him in the Iron Fiends clubhouse was odd.
“Oh my god,” I gasped, my heart racing in my chest as I struggled to make sense of the situation.
“Hi!” the boy greeted cheerfully, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Uh, hi?” I replied, my confusion clear in my voice as I took a cautious step back.
“We’ve all been taking bets on when you would finally wake up,” the boy explained, his excitement palpable. “I had between ten and one today.” Pumping his fist in the air triumphantly, he exclaimed, “I won!”
I blinked, trying to process his words. Bets? Waking up? What on earth was going on?
Before I could formulate a coherent response, the boy continued, seemingly oblivious to my confusion. “I’m Rocky,” he introduced himself, extending a hand in greeting.
“Poppy,” I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper as I tentatively shook his hand.
Rocky’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Nice to meet you, Poppy, but I already knew your name. Welcome to the clubhouse!”
I offered a weak smile in return, still reeling from the unexpected encounter. “Thanks, Rocky. Uh, is your mom around?”
As if on cue, the door at the end of the hallway swung open, revealing Yarder, his expression a curious blend of amusement and exasperation. “Rocky, what are you doing bothering Poppy?” Yarder chided gently, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately.
Rocky shrugged. “I’m just welcoming her to the clubhouse, Mr. Yarder. You said I could say hi when she was awake, so I came to say hi!”
Yarder sighed, shooting me an apologetic glance. “Rocky tends to get a bit overzealous sometimes.”
“It’s okay,” I replied, offering a reassuring smile. Despite the unexpected interruption, there was something endearing about Rocky’s enthusiasm. I could only imagine what fun it would be to be his age, and get to grow up in the clubhouse of an MC. It was probably an adventure for him every day.
Yarder nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before turning back to Rocky. “Alright, buddy, why don’t you go find the others and see if they need any help with anything?”
“Okay!” Rocky exclaimed, darting off down the hallway with a boundless energy that seemed to define him.
I couldn’t help but let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The clubhouse was certainly full of surprises, and it seemed that I still had much to learn about the people who inhabited this world.
“Where are you off to?” Yarder asked.
“Uh, I thought I would see what I could find for a snack.”
“You up to it? I can make you a plate if you want to stay in bed.”
I shook my head and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I think I’ve slept enough. I need to stretch my legs and let everyone know I’m not some sorry sack that sleeps all day.”
“No one is judging you for sleeping, babe. You went through a lot.”
I had, but I needed to get out of my room and back to reality. Well, whatever reality this clubhouse had for me. “I did, but I’m good now. I think I caught up on my lack of sleep from the past five years. I’m more than capable of making my own food now.”
He nodded and motioned down the hallway. “Well, just holler if you need anything. We were in the middle of a meeting, but I heard Rocky talking out here.”
“Did I disturb your meeting?” I asked. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I’m sure whatever they were discussing was important. At least more important than what Rocky and I had been talking about.
Yarder shook his head. “It’s all good, Poppy.”
“Well, you go back to your meeting, and I’m going to find some crackers or something.”
He nodded and turned back to church.
I took a few steps before I halted and looked over my shoulder. “Yarder,” I called.
“Yeah?”
“What was your bet on when I was going to leave the room?”
He smirked at me over his shoulder. “Rocky tell you about that?” he asked.
I nodded. “It was the second thing out of his mouth.”
“Damn kid,” he laughed.
“Well?” I asked. “What was your bet?”
“I had you leaving that room tomorrow morning. I thought for sure you had at least another day of sleep in you.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s amazing I slept as long as I did. What did Rocky win?” I asked.
“Bragging rights,” Yarder laughed. “Olive didn’t let us bet anything more since Rocky was involved.”
“Bummer for him,” I giggled.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he gets something.” He winked and headed toward church.
“Thank you, again,” I called softly.
He shook his head, his response curt and final, but he didn’t bother to turn back to me. “Stop thanking me, Poppy,” Yarder growled before opening the door and disappearing inside, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.
I sighed, watching as the door closed behind him, before turning to head in the direction of the kitchen. It had been a brief interaction, but it was refreshing to see Yarder outside of the confines of the bedroom, his presence no longer obscured by the veil of sleep.
When I entered the kitchen, I was surprised to find it empty, devoid of the bustling activity I had expected to encounter. I knew the guys must have been in church with Yarder, but I thought for sure Rocky and the other girls would be out here.
I set about making myself a plate of cheese and crackers, the simple fare offering a comforting familiarity among the clubhouse’s unfamiliar surroundings.
Most nights, for dinner, I only had cheese and crackers to eat. I eyed the name-brand crackers, except I did not have these fancy crackers. The store brand was the norm for me.
With plate in hand, I wandered into the common room, taking in the sights that surrounded me. A pool table occupied one corner, its surface worn with age and use, while a pinball machine stood nearby, its flashing lights and electronic sounds adding to the ambiance of the room.
In the center of the space, three couches were arranged in a square formation around a large television, inviting relaxation and camaraderie. Along one wall, a bar stretched the length of the room, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of the overhead lights. Barstools lined the counter.
I set my plate on the bar and perched myself on one of the stools, taking a moment to savor the simple pleasure of my snack. As I nibbled on a piece of cheese, a soft chuckle escaped my lips; the absurdity of the situation not lost on me.
Here I was, in the heart of an MC clubhouse, where bikers and roughnecks thrived, yet I was contentedly munching on cheese and crackers as if I belonged there. It was a surreal realization, one that brought a sense of amusement along with the uncertainty that still lingered.
I couldn’t help but acknowledge the irony of my current circumstances. I had spent much of my life searching for a place to belong, a sense of belonging that had always seemed just out of reach. With a father who was never around, a mother who had passed away when I was young, and no siblings to speak of, I had grown up feeling perpetually adrift, a lone soul in search of a home.
And yet, who would have thought that it would take an explosion, of all things, to lead me to the doorstep of the Iron Fiends clubhouse? It was a twist of fate that I never could have predicted, one that had brought me into the orbit of a group of individuals who, despite their rough exterior, had seemingly welcomed me with open arms.
I could tell that this was home to all of them.
It was their home, but it wasn’t mine. I was just a visitor.
Did Yarder and his club truly want me here? Probably not.
This was just for now, and I would be out back in the world alone in the blink of an eye.
Yarder
Compass and I sat alone in church, the echoes of the rest of the club’s departure still reverberated in the silence. The weight of recent events hung heavy in the air, and the urgency of our task pressed upon us like a suffocating blanket.
“How the hell can I not find this guy?” he grunted, his voice tight with agitation over not being able to pin down Anthony.
I shrugged, leaning back in my chair, exhaustion etched into every line of my face. “He’ll mess up soon enough, and then we’ll get him.”
“The fuckwad might not even be in the fucking state anymore,” Compass spat, slamming his hand down on the table in frustration. “For all we know, he’s got Faye with him.”
I shook my head. Thoughts of Faye weighed heavily on my mind for the past two days. She had left of her own accord, despite Olive’s insistence otherwise. Faye had been struggling, and I was sure leaving everything behind seemed like her only option. We all knew she was wrong, but convincing her of that obviously hadn’t worked.
“Faye left on her own,” I stated firmly. “Her ex would have to be the dumbest fuckwad in the world if he took her. He knew we were after him for blowing up the gym, and he had to know we’d wreck him even more if he hurt Faye.”
Compass sighed, a heavy exhale of frustration. “I hope you’re right, man.”
I was. Once the dust settled, I planned on tracking Faye down just to prove that I was right. “I am,” I reassured him. “Just focus on finding the ex.”
“And you’ll focus on Boone and Gibbs?” Compass chuckled.
“That, among other things,” I replied, my mind already racing with the multitude of tasks ahead. “Need to talk to the insurance company, too. Need to get the garage back up and running.” I rapped my knuckles on the table. “Oh, and I need to distract a camera crew from the freaking chaos that is headed straight for us. Why don’t you take care of all of that, and I’ll just worry about Faye’s ex?” I added sarcastically.
“Hard pass,” Compass chuckled. “At least you’ve got a pretty roommate for the time being.”
I shot him a glare, my annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. “You looking to get your lights knocked out?”
Compass raised his hands in surrender. “Easy, Bossman. I didn’t know Poppy was a sensitive subject.”
It wasn’t that Poppy was a sensitive subject. It was more that I didn’t want her reduced to just another girl in the eyes of the club. To them, she was just some random chick, but to me, she was different. The desire to protect her hadn’t diminished in the slightest; if anything, it had only grown stronger.
Each night, I found myself watching over her as she slept, unable to tear my gaze away until exhaustion finally claimed me on the couch.
“Just work on finding Anthony. The sooner we find the fuckwad, the sooner I can get you back to figuring out what the hell we think Boone and Gibbs are going to do next,” I instructed firmly.
Compass nodded, rising from his seat. “I’m gonna call my cousin up in Oklahoma, see if he’s heard anything.”
“Good idea,” I acknowledged. “Hopefully, he’ll have some leads.” Though Compass had been talking to him all along, and he hadn’t found anything that helped us.
Compass walked out, leaving me alone in church once again. I glanced around the room and sighed heavily as the weight of my responsibilities pressed down upon me.
Being the President of the Iron Fiends had been my dream, but at this moment, it felt more like a burden than anything else.
Chapter Eight
Poppy
I set my plate down in the sink, letting the warm water cascade over it as I scrubbed away the remnants of my meal.
But peace was short-lived, especially with the guys filtering out of church, their voices carrying into the kitchen. Throttle’s question pierced through the air, drawing my attention away from the task at hand.
“Where are the girls and Rocky?” he asked, his voice filled with a hint of concern.
I paused and wiped my hands on a dishcloth before turning to face him. “Uh, I’ve been out here for twenty minutes or so, and I haven’t seen them,” I replied, moving back to the stool I had been sitting on.
As if they were called, the front door swung open, and Rocky rushed in, followed closely by Olive, Sloane, and Dove. The energy shifted with their entrance, filling the room with laughter and chatter.
“Where the heck were you?” Cue Ball demanded, his tone teasing but concerned.
Olive rolled her eyes, a playful smirk gracing her lips as she walked into Cue Ball’s arms. “Rocky wanted to practice his pitching, so we were in the back,” she explained.
“Spoiler alert,” Sloane laughed, joining in on the banter. “Rocky is really good at pitching, and I am not really good at batting.”
Dove nudged Sloane playfully. “He struck you out every time,” she added with a grin.
Sloane rolled her eyes but seemed content. “I’m just a little rusty,” she defended, mimicking a batting stance. “Next time I’m going to smash one out of the park.”
“Backyard,” Aero scoffed, moving to scoop Sloane up into his arms. “You think I can be your coach? Teach you a few things?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Sloane squealed and giggled as Aero tickled her. “There’s no tickling in baseball,” she laughed. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I’m playing to win, baby,” he purred into her ear.
