Rocky Road: Sequel Book Three

Chapter 2

Mike

The wound to my side seems to be healing well. No puss, much blood, or inflammation so far, although it has only been a day.

I wince as I wrap the gauze around my torso to keep the new bandage in place. My side is tender and still raw from the fresh stitches. As I glance in the mirror, it appears that I look worse today than I did last night. The cuts from the window smashing against my body left some nice nicks on my face and shoulders. I’m lucky I didn’t get a large size of glass stuck in me somewhere. That would have hurt, maybe more than the bullet.

The bullet. At the edge of the sink sits the split 9mm hollow point with my stained blood on it. I pick it up to examine it; the pointed part is curled back, revealing a silvery inside as opposed to the bronzed outside shell. I’m glad that it only pierced my side and didn’t get any major organs. Although a regular bullet would have been friendlier, Viper wouldn’t have had to dig it out, because there would have been an exit wound.

Setting the bullet back with care on the sink, I run a hand through my hair, and limp over to the cot to sit down. The pain in my leg has gotten worse; I must have fallen on it just right. It’s not broken or twisted, but something must have gotten pulled or bruised.

I glance over to the cabinet and stare at the picture I took from Elijah’s police car. The photo of Elena and her father – she’s younger there, but the happiness they have… my chest tightens. Had. The happiness they had was beautiful. It’s a simple capture of the two of them smiling for a selfie. He’s giving the camera a goofy face while Elena laughs into the lens, letting her smile shine bright.

I envy what they shared, wishing I had it with my own father, wherever he is.

How did Elena take the news that Viper is her real dad? I let out a breath, glad that he finally told her.

Did she stay? Did she run?

My shoulders drop. I miss her. I hope she’s okay.

It’s better this way. She’s safe. Broken hearted, but safe. In reaching for my phone from the side table, I see she called me fifteen times last night, just to hear my voice from the voicemail. It’s why I haven’t destroyed it yet – she did the same thing with her dad’s phone.

When I lean over to remove my boots so I can prop my feet up on the cot to get some shuteye, there’s a knock on the door.

Knowing who it is, I tell him to come in.

“Hey,” Viper says as he steps inside with a small container of something orange in his hand. “How are you feeling?” It’s hard picturing him as a biker, I can tell he used to be with his weathered skin and tattoos. Since he traded leather and holy jeans or leather pants for a nice pair of dress jeans and an ironed pressed button-up short-sleeve white shirt, he doesn’t seem like he ever used to be one…

“Like I jumped out of a two-story window and got shot,” I chuckle and groan as I rest against the wall at the head of the cot.

“Oh, good. Sounds like you’re on the mend.” Viper jests as he hands me the container. “Here’s some dinner for you. Carrot soup.”

I reach for it. “Thank you, Rev.”

“Yeah, of course.”

There’s an awkward silence, before I finally ask, “How did she take the news? Is she staying?”

He gives me a look while leaning against the wall and folding his arms. “You didn’t wait around in the hall to find out?”

Sheepishly, I smile. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.” I peer down at the container to lift the lid. Smells wonderful.

“You could have blown everything up,” he chastises.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I close the lid; I’ll eat this after he leaves. The fact that I can’t stand to be apart from her is eating me up – I had to eavesdrop, I miss her voice. I miss everything about that woman.

Rev sighs then walks over to the cabinet to take a closer look at the picture of Elena and Elijah that I placed against a few books earlier today. “She’s staying.”

My chest warms. “She is?”

He turns to look at me, he doesn’t say anything for a moment. “She’s living in the parcel – the farmhouse next door.” So close! “Her room overlooks the other side of the house, but the kitchen window faces the direction of the church. There’s more than enough distance to where she won’t be able to identify anyone coming or going from here, but I urge you to enter the church from the other side to the backdoor… to limit the chances of her seeing you.”

I nod in agreement.

“And, Michael.” Those blue eyes stare at me. “I know you love her and miss her, but please keep your distance and, for the love of all that is holy, please, please stop eavesdropping on her sessions. That was a close call.”

Not being able to hide a small smile from that little slip, I say, “Understood.” The fast lane and danger zones are what I’m used to. Almost getting caught is one of the best highs in life… until, of course, you get caught.

Before he walks out, I ask, “Do you by any chance have any more sheets?”

“Oh, yeah.” He points to the cot. “They’re under there, in a tote.”

I slide off the mattress to take a knee and look. Fair enough, there’s a tote with linen in it. As I remove the tote and pop the lid to take the sheets out, I ask, “What did you use this room for before I came along?”

The Rev steps over to help with fitting the sheet to the mattress. “This was the room I used to stay in when I was in rehab with the reverend of the church way back when.”

“Really?” I take another sheet out and he takes one corner to line it up to the cot as I mimic with the other. We fold it under the mattress together. “Didn’t know you were ever in rehab. Drugs or alcohol?”

“Drugs. Then, when I became the reverend, this place was for any homeless man that needed a warm place to rest and a hot meal for a few days.” The urge of wanting to ask him about his story is strong, but I get the sense that he doesn’t want to talk about it right now.

Straightening up the linen on the cot, I tell him, “Now I feel bad.”

“Why’s that?”

I take a seat on the freshly made cot and fold my hands together. “I know what it’s like to live on the streets. Now, I’m occupying this room when someone out there could use a warm bed.”

Rev pads into my line of vision from the opposite side of the bed and places a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. You need a place to stay where your secret can be kept safe. There are other places that can take in others that need a place to sleep.”

Giving him a single nod, he reaches for the door. “Try and get some rest, hm?”

He doesn’t give me time to answer; the man slips out the door and closes it with a soft click, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a container of carrot soup.