Soothing Suffering (Black Shamrocks MC) Page 3

  “Hey, you don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  With sightless eyes, I stare at her with my mouth open. Shaking myself, I answer. “I’m not upset.”

  My eyes follow her gaze down to my lap where she looks pointedly at my white-knuckled grip on my phone. My hand is shaking, the plastic case around my mobile groaning from my sustained abuse. I let it drop into my lap and shake my hand to get the blood flowing again.

  “I’m here because I cut myself.”

  The way she throws it out there as if it’s not a big deal shocks me. “Why?”

  “Control. Duh,” she shrugs as she answers me. “When the screaming in my head gets too loud, I like to slice my leg with a razor blade. It’s a release, you know. All of my issues can flow free and the voice that keeps taunting me gives me a rest for a while.”

  I must look like a moron, but I can’t help it. I’m stunned. What she says sounds familiar. More than familiar. “How does that work? I’m lost.”

  Licking her lips, the girl looks around us, then drops her head closer to mine. “What screwed with you? My dad likes to fuck me now my mother’s gone. Cutting’s the only thing between me and the street. It gives me a way to put up with him and keep a roof over my head.”

  She leans closer. “Not that I’ve told Dr. Louise the whole story. She still thinks it’s because I get bullied at school.”

  When the girl rolls her eyes at Dr. Louise believing the wrong thing, I realise that I’ve met my kindred spirit. The girl understands me. No-one understands me.

  Crossing myself, because I’m certain that our meeting today is God’s way of providing me with the knowledge I need to survive what happened to me, I whisper the words I haven’t put into sound since the day I broke down and told Mik the truth in the hospital. “My boyfriend beat and raped me when I tried to leave him. He blackmailed me into staying with him afterward by threatening my twin brother, then he tried to kill me when he worked out that I was leaving anyway.”

  The girl fluffs her hair and leans back in her chair. She nods as if impressed with me. “I took you for a bit of a snob when you walked in her, but you’re hardcore. Far out.”

  “Anastacia.” Dr. Louise walks into the waiting area with a clipboard in her hand. She looks down at it and then at the girl sitting next to me. “It’s your turn.”

  The girl nudges me with her shoulder before standing. “Hey, nice meeting you. Good luck with it. You should look into it; sounds like it’s exactly what you need.”

  With an exaggerated wink, she leaves me; following Dr. Louise out of the room.

  I don’t watch them leave. I’m too busy searching Google for every piece of information I can find about cutting.

  Normally when Lainey comes home from therapy, she’s quiet and fighting back tears. Today, she’s wired. Actually, she’s more than that, she’s fucking amped, and practically pushing me outta the house when it’s time for me to head to Church at the Compound. I don’t know whether to be worried or not.

  “What’s the rush, Angel? You know Beast never runs on time.” If I wasn’t watching her face, I would have missed the shifty way her gaze moved from me to the door and then to her handbag sitting on the dining table. I make a move for it, grinning when I beat her to the oversized leather satchel that she tries to pass off as a normal bag. Holding it over my head, I taunt her. “Is there something in here that you don’t want me to see? I knew you were up to something when you wouldn’t let me into the shop with you.”

  “Mik.” Lainey squeals my name. Standing on her tip-toes, she tries to swipe it out of my grip. Huffing when she can’t reach it, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouts. “Give it back.”

  “No.”

  I’m only joking. The giant shit-eating grin on my face should alert her to that. Except, it doesn’t. Lainey goes nuclear; lifting her foot and kicking me in the fucking knee cap before jamming her fingertips into the hollow of my throat. I let go of the bag and take hold of the crazy woman who’s trying to climb me like a fucking monkey. Wrapping my arms around her, I pin hers to her side. I back up against the closest wall and then slide to the ground.

  “What the fuck are you doing? Calm down.”

  Lainey falls still, apart from the heaving of her chest. My knee is throbbing and I’m pretty damn sure she broke the skin when she stabbed me with her fingernails. Add that to the scratches she left on my back and shoulders this morning, the gouges she made down one side of my face, and the bleeding lip she gave me, and you’d be forgiven for thinking I’d had my ass kicked.

  I guess I have—by the least likely source. My woman.

  “Lainey,” I lift her face toward mine with a finger under her chin as I speak. “What’s in your handbag?”

  “Nothing.”

  “A massive fucking overreaction for nothing.”

  Pushing my arms away, Lainey climbs back to her feet. Glaring down at me, she snarls with unexpected anger. “I’ve got my period. I didn’t want you to know that I brought stuff for it.”

  “Okay. Okay.” I hold my hands up as if surrendering. “Fuck. All you had to do was say. Not try to kill me.”

  Redness crawls up her neck and settles on her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

  Considering that Lainey sounds anything but, I snort. “Sounds like it.”

  Twisting her lips into a grimace, my woman leans down and scoops her bag up from the floor. Without another word, she stalks out of the kitchen. Our bedroom door slams shut, the noise bouncing around the room like an encore to her temper tantrum.

  Shaking my head at the unpredictable firecracker I share my home with, I get to my feet. My knee is not cooperating after the abuse it just suffered, so I straighten it, then bend it back and forth. Every movement makes me grit my teeth. Mentally, I weigh up my options. Should I barge into our room and tell Lainey that she needs to pull her head out of her ass? Or, will heading to Church without saying another word to her get my fucking frustration with her behaviour across better?

  If you hadn’t let Benji get under your skin, you wouldn’t be having this discussion with yourself. Your woman wouldn’t be an angry mess of emotions—she’d be her normal self. The bastard voice that’s taken up residence in my head likes to remind me just who’s fault all of this is. Mine.

  Walking through the kitchen and then down the hallway, I pause near our door. Leaning my forehead against it, I look down at my shaking hands. Closing my fingers into a fist, I debate giving up the fight and walking away from this. From her. I haven’t even finished the thought before my hand has uncurled and I’m rapping my fingers on the hard wood of our bedroom door.

  Cutting off my own arm would be easier than walking away from Lainey.

  “Angel. I’m going now.”

  The door swings inward, making me stumble. Lainey slides her hands around my waist and lays her cheek on my shoulder. Her warm breath runs over my neck when she speaks, reminding me that she’s a living and breathing creature who needs me. The version I’ve kept on a pedestal for years doesn’t do the real woman in my embrace justice. “I am sorry.”

  Lacing my fingers together at the small of her back, I kiss the top of her head. “I know. So am I. Wasn’t good timing on my behalf.”

  “My head is a mess. I—” My mobile phone begins to vibrate in my back pocket. Lainey closes her mouth and puts space between us. “I’ll let you go.

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  Also by Kylie Hillman

  Black Shamrocks MC

  Seizing Control

  Making Choices

  Seeking Redemption

  Tempting Fate

  Finding Nirvana (Coming Soon)

  Conquering Circumstances

 
Soothing Suffering (Coming Soon)

  Standalone

  Brawl