Savior Ch. 20

I was standing at the sink in Patrick's house, peeling potatoes for dinner. It had been a little over two weeks since the confrontation in the restaurant, and despite the efforts of the police and the BRMC, there'd been no sign of the Orcas.

It had gotten ugly in the diner when the police arrived. Though the Riders had good relations with the local law enforcement, the hostility of the scene had nearly resulted in the arrest of us all. I didn't know if my bawling over the loss of Garrett help anything, but I'd spent a tearful five minutes explaining how the BRMC was there simply to help me get my kidnapped son back. A quick check by one of the police officers confirmed that my son was in fact missing, and that had lowered the tension in the room considerably. The BRMC was also aided by the customers, those that had remained anyway, and the restaurant staff, who had corroborated my story, stating definitively the Orcas were the only ones to have pulled weapons, other than Vince once the thugs left to prevent them from returning, and the only aggressive move the Riders made was Rand trying to get Garrett and coming to my aid after Carl hit me.

I'd been a mess after that. I couldn't stop crying, and I'd been horrible to Rand. To have come so close only to have Garrett snatched away again was almost more than I could bear. I knew we'd done the right thing, but that hadn't made the loss any less bitter. I knew without doubt Carl would have carried out his threat. He didn't care about me, or Garrett, or anyone other than himself, and Garrett was nothing but a pawn in his game. He used Garrett to hurt me for leaving him, and then he'd used him again as cover for his escape. He might profess loving Garrett, and maybe he did in his own twisted way, but that didn't mean he was above using him to get what he wanted.

It had ripped my heart out, hearing Garrett screaming in terror, calling for me, begging to go home, his little arms held out beseechingly as Carl and his thugs backed out of the restaurant, Garrett held tightly by the bitch that he was undoubtable fucking.

I sniffed and wiped at my eye with the back of my hand, smearing the tear that was threatening to fall. Rand and I were still sleeping together, but the passions he'd ignited in me had vanished. He'd tried to draw me out, and though we'd fucked a couple of times, it had become, for the lack of a better term, unsatisfying. I wanted to reconnect with him, wanted desperately to feel something other than the bile of fear and disappointment, but despite his almost loving touch, he couldn't break through the shell I'd built around myself. I'd let him use me, as I'd let Carl use me, but unlike Carl, Rand knew it, and after a few sessions, he'd stopped trying.

I tried not take my bitterness out on him. It wasn't his fault. The police hadn't picked up Carl's trail, and my own frantic phone call to Leeda had turned up nothing, so why did I think he could do better? I knew Rand and the BRMC were doing everything they could, and the club had galvanized around me. None of the Riders there had liked Carl hitting me, and they especially hadn't liked him threatening Garrett. I'd received several offers from member's wives and girlfriends of a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen, but I hadn't taken them up on their offers.

I was pushing them away, as I was pushing Rand away... and I didn't know why. The first couple of times I'd gotten bitchy with him, he'd taken it, but this morning when I was snarling at him about their search for Garrett going nowhere, he'd reminded me he wasn't forcing me to stay and I was free to leave if I thought I could do better on my own. He hadn't raged at me, as he had every right to, his statement calm and matter of fact before he turned on his toe and walked out of the trailer. That was a splash of cold water and afterwards I'd gone to him and begged his forgiveness.

Rather than punish me for being a bitch, he'd taken me into arms and held me. I'd wept in his tight embrace, Rand softly shushing me and stroking my hair as we slowly rocked, the motion somehow comforting. The Riders were doing all they could for me, more than I had any right to expect. They were following up every lead they received and were doing what they could to keep the public active and engaged. There'd been a lot sightings and suggestions at first, but the encounter with the Orcas was slowly fading from the community's memory and the tips were dwindling.

I looked at the potato in my hand. I'd been peeling this same potato, or more accurately, not peeling it, for the last five minutes. It seemed my entire world was falling apart. I was driving a wedge between myself and Rand and I was giving the cold shoulder to all offers of comfort. Maybe I didn't deserve help. Maybe I was getting exactly what I deserved. Having Rand remind me I was free to leave told me he was getting tired of my attitude. I was getting tired of it too, but I couldn't figure out how to drag myself out of the depression I was in.

"Do you need help peeling?" Patrick asked from behind me, causing me to jump.

"What?" I asked as I turned to face him.

"I asked if you needed help peeling. You've been standing there, staring at that potato for at least fifteen minutes."

"I have not!" I said with a small smile. Patrick's kind and gentle humor always lifted me a little.

"Okay, maybe not fifteen, but at least two or three."

"Sorry," I murmured as I began scraping at it with the peeler again. "Daydreaming."

"Daydreams or nightmares?"

I finished the potato, rinsed it, and then sat it aside as I pulled another out of the bag. "Nightmares, I guess."

He stepped up beside me, took the spud from my hand, and put it down. "Don't give up on him," he said softly.

"Who? Garrett?"

"And Rand."

"I'm not." When his eyebrow cocked up, I sighed. "I know he's doing everything possible. He's doing more than I have any right to ask from him, but it's so damned hard to sit here and do nothing."

"Hanna, you have it all wrong. You're so used to having to do everything yourself, I guess you don't realize the entire club, and most of the town, are looking for your son."

"I know."

"Do you? Then why did you say you're sitting here, doing nothing? You're doing the hardest thing imaginable. Waiting. You're waiting for those bastards to stick their heads up again so we can cut them off."

"What if they don't come back? What if I should be looking somewhere else?"

"Fair enough. Where would you look, if not here?"

"I don't know."

"So waiting for news here is the same as waiting somewhere else."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Except there's one difference."

"What's that?"

"Rand, and the rest of the BRMC are here. Here you have people who care about you to help."

"Who? Rand?"

"And me."

I looked at him a moment. "I have such a hard time wrapping my mind around why any of you care."

He smiled. "To be honest, I suspect most of the Riders don't care, not really. They'll help you if they can because they didn't like your ex hitting you and threatening your son, but they're mostly interested in protecting the club and the town. It just so happens that you both want the same thing, to find Carl Ellerbe and the Orcas. So long as your interests and theirs align, I think you can depend on them."

"And you?" I asked softly.

"Rand, I think he cares more than you realize," he said, ignoring my question. "I know Carl putting the knife to Garrett is gnawing at him. He hasn't been able to let that go, and I wouldn't want to be Carl if Rand ever catches him alone. I can't speak for him, but I think that dredged up some feeling that would have been best left buried. I think he'll move heaven and earth to get Garrett away from Carl now."

"And you?" I asked again.

"Then there's you," he said.

"What about me?"

"I've known Rand a long time, most of his life as you know, and you're the first girl I've seen him really get sweet on."

"You're crazy!"

He chuckled. "Trust an old man on this. I can tell by the way he looks at you."

"Sure he is," I grunted. "He almost kicked my ass out this morning."

"But he didn't, did he?" He paused, holding my gaze, as if thinking. "I'm sorry to have to say this, but you haven't been treating him fairly."

That stung and I looked at my shoes, unable to meet his gaze. "I know," I said softly. "I apologized to him this morning."

"Good. You should have. He's been patient with you, but I think you needed the wakeup call."

"I did, but why do you think he's sweet on me, especially these last couple of weeks? I've been nothing a but a harpy."

"Despite opinion to the contrary, women aren't the only ones with intuition. He may not even know it himself, but when he looks at you, when he talks about you, there's a softness there I've never seen before. I may be wrong, but I don't think I am."

"He's never said anything to me."

Patrick shrugged with a grin. "We've known you for less than a month, Hanna. I'm not saying he's ready to confess his undying love for you, I'm just saying that he talks about you differently than any of his other..." he wiggled his fingers in the air to make rabbit ears, "girlfriends." His small smile spread slightly. "Besides, he's still a man. I'm too old now to worry about such crap anymore, but men aren't supposed to show their feelings and all that." He paused, his smile kind. "If I'm right, give him time. He's a smart guy. He'll figure it out."

"And if you're wrong?" I asked softly, my gaze falling to the floor.

He shrugged. "Then I'm wrong. You're no worse off than you were before, are you?"

"No," I murmured slowly. "I suppose not." I forced my eyes up again.

"Why would he care about me?"

"I can't speak for him."

"But you have an idea?"

I watched the debate going on inside his head playing out on his face. "I have a guess."

"What?"

He pulled at the skin on his neck. "I think you make him feel needed, and maybe even wanted."

I swallowed hard. "Are you saying he feels sorry for me?"

He nodded slowly. "Maybe some." He must have seen the disappointment on my face. "Don't take that the wrong way. I feel sorry for you, and I suspect most of the Riders do too. The amount of shit you've had to deal with is more than anyone should have to handle alone. Don't mistake concern and empathy for pity, but he wants to help you, just like I do."

"But why?"

"Because, Hanna, he's a good man, and the only person that wants to get Garrett back to you more than him is you. I think he needs this more than you know. Like I said, I can't speak for him, but I think if he can rescue your son, he may be rescuing a little piece of himself as well."

I swallowed hard. "So, if I—"

"When," he said firmly.

"When I get Garrett back... do you think that...?"

"He'll stop caring about you?" I nodded slowly. "I think that's entirely up to you. Do you want him only because he's helping you find Garrett?"

I couldn't hold his gaze again. "I don't know."

"Then maybe you need to figure that out before you worry about Rand."

"Yeah," I whispered. "What about you? Why do you care? You've dodged the question both times."

He grinned. "Me? I'm easy. I want to keep you around so I can look at you."

A smile touched my lips, the heavy mood lightening. "Is that so?"

His smile softened. "Actually... I always wanted a little girl, but after Kyle was born Susan developed Adenomyosis and had to have a hysterectomy." He paused, but he hadn't answered the question, so I waited him out. "If we had a daughter, I'd like to think she'd have been a lot like you."

My face twisted as I whimpered and struggled not to cry. "Thank you, Patrick."

He shrugged, took my head gently into his hands, and kissed me on the forehead. "You asked. So, now answer my question."

"What question is that?"

"Do you need help with them taters or not?"

I picked up the potato he'd set and aside. "No, I've got it. Go do some manly stuff."

His face twisted as he hiked up one hip and let loose with a raucous fart. "How's that? Or was I supposed to do that on the couch?"

My mouth gaped in surprise, but after the heavy conversation it struck me as funny. Not just funny, but hilarious. I began to giggle, couldn't stop, and within moments, I was propped over the sink, potato in one hand, peeler in the other, laughing until I cried.

I didn't want to be alone. Rand was gone, pulling his shift on the BRMC protection detail, and I was suffering from aching guilt. My conversation with Patrick earlier had opened my eyes. Not only was Rand trying to help me get Garrett back, but he was also working with Patrick in the yard, plus he pulling a security detail. Despite all of that, he'd still been supportive of me, even as I bitched and complained at him.

I knocked softly on Patrick's door. It didn't open, so I knocked a little harder. My lips thinning in disappointment, I was stepping off the small porch when the door opened. "Hanna?" Patrick said. "I'm sorry, but my hands were dirty. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt."

He smiled. "I was just turning valves for the Jag engine. I can do that any time. What do you need?"

"Can you... I'd... Care to share a beer?" I finally managed to get out.

He grinned. "Sure! Come on in."

"You sure you don't mind? I don't want to interrupt if you're busy."

"Hmm..." he rumbled. "Have the most beautiful woman I've ever met offer to buy me a beer... or machine a valve for a model engine?" He tapped his chin as if thinking. "Tough choice... but I think I'll take the beer," he said stepping onto the porch and holding the door wide.

"Thank you. I was hoping for some company."

"Then you've come to the right place," he said as he pulled two beers from the refrigerator, handing one me.

We settled into the chairs in his living room. I took a pull from my bottle. "I... need some advice."

"Sure. It's worth exactly what you pay for it, but I can always listen."

I swallowed hard and took another swig from the bottle to gather my courage. "I don't know how to make up for how I've been treating Rand," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You said you apologized to him?" I nodded slowly. "Then I suspect you've done all you need to."

"But I was such a bitch to him."

"Yes you were, but I think he'll understand. I know you're under a lot of stress, and that rarely brings out the best in people." He smiled at me. "Are you going to keep being a bitch?"

"No. I hope not. I'll try not to be."

"Did you mean it when you apologized?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "Then I think you've done all you can."

I nodded again. "Do you think it's enough?"

He shrugged. "Only Rand can answer that, but I suspect it will be."

I sipped my bottle, staring into space. "I know he's doing everything he can, and yet I treated him like I did." I paused for a long moment before my eyes came back to his. "I don't like myself very much right now."

"Here's another piece of advice. If Rand can forgive you, then you need to forgive yourself."

"I'll try." I huffed. "I finally find a guy that actually seems to care, and I treat him like shit. Maybe someone like Carl is all I deserve, someone who treats me like shit too."

He spluttered. "That asshole? He doesn't deserve you."

"How can you be sure?" I asked, unable to meet his gaze.

"Because I've seen enough of you to know this isn't who you really are. You know what your biggest problem is?"

"What?" I whispered.

"You don't trust anyone. Maybe for good reason, but I think it's true."

"I trust you, and Rand, and I guess the Riders."

"Do you?" he asked softly. "If so, why are you pushing everyone away?"

"I don't know," I murmured.

I'd hoped talking to Patrick would make me feel better, as it had this afternoon, but his words, kind as his voice was, were making me feel worse. I was a truly shitty person.

"I think I do."

"Why?" I asked softly, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

"Because you've never been able to before. The one person, above all others, that should have been there for you wasn't. Not only was he not, he abused you. No wonder you have a hard time opening up and trusting people."

"Carl." I murmured, and he pointed at me. "But my parents..."

"I'm sure they love you, but you're an adult now, and I think their priority should be to each other... just as yours should have been to Garrett and Carl."

"Yeah, I said softly.

"Carl destroyed that in you, and now you have to build it back. It takes time. I know that... and I suspect Rand knows it too. So here's my advice in a nutshell. You apologized to him, and you said you meant it. Now show him you meant it. Start treating him like you want to be treated. If it works out, great, but if it doesn't, at least you can say you gave it your best shot... and that's all any of us can do."

I held his gaze. "You think it's as easy as that?" I asked, my voice soft.

His smile was gentle. "Yes, I do. Rand, when he started living with me, was much like you are now. He kept himself all bottled up, so I gave him his space, but I was always there for him, and little by little, he started trusting me to be there when he needed me." He took a hard, deep breath, his face twisting with such love, and misery, it almost broke my heart. "And now," he said, his eyes filling with tears, "he's like a son to me." He sniffed, took a hard pull from his bottle, and wiped his eyes brusquely as he cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said before tipping up his bottle again.

As Patrick began to lose control, tears started streaming down my cheeks, not for myself, but for him. He may have saved Rand, but I could tell Rand had saved him in return. Despite the tragedies in their lives, they'd managed to heal themselves, and each other.

"I will," I whispered.

He nodded and cleared his throat again. "That's all any of us can do. If it's not enough, nothing ever will be."

I thought of how hard I'd tried with Carl, but nothing I did or said was ever good enough, yet, less than eight hours ago, I'd asked Rand to forgive me, and he held me, rocking me until my tears had stopped, seemingly willing to hold me for as long as I needed it. I whimpered. Because of my stupidity, I was potentially destroying what may be the best thing to happen to me.

"Thank you," I whimpered.

"Like I said, the advice is worth exactly what you paid for it... but thanks for the beer anyway."

I was losing it... again. "I have to go," I gasped as I bounded to my feet.

"And Hanna," he said softly, as I reached the door that led to the kitchen. I stopped and turned. "Rand won't hurt you... not intentionally. If you didn't hear anything else I said tonight, hear that."

I nodded as chewed my bottom lip, fighting desperately against my impending tears. I'd just yanked the door from the kitchen open when my control failed. I stumbled to Rand's trailer as I sobbed.

I'd had a good cry on Rand's bed, and I was feeling better, almost as if my tears had purged me, like they had the first night in the motel. On the rock, I'd decided I was going to trust Rand to help me get Garrett back, and he, and the BRMC, hadn't let me down. Despite our failure, they'd done all they could.

Doug said I was their ace in the hole to fuck the Orcas, but he'd tipped their hand that I was helping them to try to live up to their agreement. When the situation started going to hell, the BRMC could have gone all bad-ass motorcycle club, tried to force the issue, and fuck the consequences. I was certain that's what the Orcas would've done had the situation been reversed, not caring who got hurt so long as they got their pound of flesh, but the BRMC had backed off. They'd allowed the Orcas to walk away unscathed... to save my son.