Big Timber (Royal Bastards MC: Flagstaff Chapter #7)

Chapter 9

Talia

“She’s going to be fine.”

After all the whispering around me, I’m beyond relieved to make out an actual sentence. Even if it sounds distorted, like how you hear things when your head is underwater.

I can’t remember going swimming anytime recently.

That’s my first thought.

Then I sense Tarak, but even with him nuzzling my neck, it doesn’t make sense. This isn’t my bed. It’s not even my bed at the fire hall.

I want to tell him that he’s not talking loud enough. Except, I’m worried about talking if I’m underwater. That’s not safe at all.

Then I laugh, knowing that I can’t be underwater if I’m in a bed.

“Did she just laugh?” The somewhat distorted voice comes again.

“She did! I heard her,” my mom’s voice rings out clearer than the others.

“Talia, I need you to wake up,” Tarak’s voice is right in my ear, his breath against my skin gives me the chills.

“You don’t swim, so I can’t be underwater.” I don’t know why it’s so hard to open my eyes, but I keep trying.

“I’m going to get the doctor.” Now I know, the voice coming from the foot of my bed is my dad.

Finally, I manage to get my eyes open the tiniest bit and that’s when I hear my mom start to cry.

“I love you,” Tarak continues to fervently whisper into my ear, and I wish I could turn my head to look at him, but it isn’t budging. “I’ve loved you from the first moment you told me I couldn’t do something. I loved it when you kidnapped me because you were worried about your silly regulations. I could have gone to another friend’s place, but I wanted to be with you. I love your big, crazy family and your Sundays together. I love you, Talia Workman, even though I don’t know your birthday.”

First, my hearing was a bit wonky.

I still can’t get my eyes open all the way.

Now, there’s something lodged in my throat, and I can’t speak. I think it might be my heart.

“It’s December fifth,” my mom replies after a moment, and it sounds like there’s something wrong with her voice as well.

*

“Take it easy,” my mom says, as the nurse wheels my chair down to where Tarak and Dad are waiting for us with the SUV.

I swear I will scream bloody murder if I ever hear those words again.

Instead, I coach myself to stay calm.

The reason I could not open my eyes when I woke up, the evening after the blast, was because they were bruised and swollen. My neck is still in a brace due to the whiplash from being thrown against a wall and then there were the broken ribs I sustained.

All-in-all, I’m the lucky one.

Donny was killed instantly.

Greyson will have a long road to recovery, mentally and physically. I’ve heard the term survivor’s remorse before, but I never saw how it affects someone firsthand, until Tarak wheeled me down the hall to see him.

If I could strangle the person who told Greyson that Donny’s body helped shield him from the worst of things, I would.

As it is, being on the opposite side of the ancient machinery from the blast is what saved me.

Others from a different engine company fared much worse than ours, and my guilt comes from relief in knowing that no other members of my family were hurt.

Tarak gently cradles me, helping me into the back of my dad’s SUV and kisses me on my temple before reaching for the seat belt.

“No,” I say, holding a hand up to stop him. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

“My little rule breaker,” he says with a chuckle as he gently slides a finger down my cheek.

The look we exchange is heavily charged, because now I truly am.

When the police came to take my statement, I didn’t tell them everything the vagrant said that night.

It wasn’t until my third night in the hospital that I even remembered the exchange.

Tarak was there beside me, having sent my parents home for a break. I told him everything, then with my permission, he called Diesel and had me repeat it again, along with a description of the woman.

I studied him for long moments after that call, waiting for him to see what his response would be and when he remained silent, only seeing to my needs, I gave him my decision.

“You think it’s connected, don’t you?” I asked him, and he nodded in response.

“Diesel installed a security system at your house,” he tells me and starts to explain what it entails.

“I won’t tell anyone else what she said,” I silently whisper, interrupting him.

“You can, we’ll be working it also, but I’d never ask you to go against your beliefs.”

“I know, my love. I know.”

Epilogue

Timber

“Sir?” The word sounds foreign to me as I address Talia’s father as he’s exiting the bathroom. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just hard to find a quiet place and I wanted to talk to you.”

The surprise on his face subtly shifts to a more thoughtful expression and he swings his thumb over his shoulder. “Come on, the front porch is probably our best bet.”

Heading out that way, stay standing even after he sits down.

“There are a couple of things I wanted to ask you,” I immediately start, trying to ignore the churning in my gut. Sliding my sweaty palms against my jeans before I continue. “I love your daughter and I want to marry her.”

He remains still, his eyes shifting over my shoulder, and I wonder if I should make my second request or give him a minute.

“You’ve already made her your Ol’ Lady,” he finally breaks the silence between us, his darker green eyes refocusing on me. “My understanding is that is considered married among your—well, among those in a motorcycle club. Why are you asking for my approval now?”

“This whole family thing,” I answer, waving my hand in the direction of the front door to indicate everyone inside. “It isn’t like anything I’ve ever experienced. And if I’m being honest, it takes some getting used to. But you all have included me in it from the moment you saw me in the kitchen that day, and that means a lot to me. More than I can put to words.”

“Talia’s never given us a reason to doubt her judgment,” he says with a shrug. “She may have said she acted impulsively that day, but her mom and I think she’d already knew you were the one for her.”

“Can I have your blessing to marry her?” I ask, more formally this time.

“Yes,” he replies with a smile. “But you said you had a couple of questions for me, so what’s the second one?”

“Yeah, I was also wondering if I could have your last name?”

I almost laugh at his expression and open mouth, but I’m dead serious about it, so I quietly wait for him to process my words, only continuing once he’s closed his jaw.

“My last name was just something I was born with. I don’t feel any connection to it or to anyone else with the name,” I explain my reasoning to him, not bothering to get into the fact that my sister had a different last name than me. “The Workman family, even with those who have taken their husbands’ last names, the name is like a bond between you. I would proudly carry it and never disrespect what it means. And, when we have them, I’d like our children to have it also.”

There’s no missing the tears in Bill’s eyes when he stands up, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I’m a little stiff at first, never having been hugged by a man before, but eventually I reciprocate and awkwardly pat him on the back.

“Welcome to the family, son,” he gasps out the words as he tries to keep his voice level.

“Dad? Tarak?” Talia steps out onto the porch with a puzzled expression on her face and I can see Tiny wringing her hands in the entryway behind her. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bill says, taking a deep breath and turning with an arm out.

Talia immediately steps forward, putting an arm around both of us. “What’s the huddle for?” she asks with a small smile on her face.

“I like him, sweetheart,” he tells her, tilting his head to lean it against hers.

“Well, he’s mine, so you can’t have him,” she sasses back, still looking perplexed about how she found us.

He throws his head back, laughing, and I can see the sparkle in Tiny’s eyes as she comes up behind him.

“I love your daughter,” I tell Tiny, and she smiles knowingly as she cuddles up to us opposite Talia.

“Well, any fool can see that,” she replies, and I can’t wipe the grin off my face at these two contrary women.

“Welcome to the family, son,” Bill says, unashamed of the tears in his eyes as he smiles at me.

Something in me shifted the day I met Talia, a weight that I must have carried my entire life, because I never noticed it was there until it started to crack and chip.

What takes water ions to do to rock, Talia and the Workman family accomplished within months. In fact, a few short months ago, I would have laughed my ass off at anyone who would have told me I’d be on a porch, in a huddle with the love of my life and her parents, close to tears.

Instead of the weight of anger and distrust that I’ve always carried, whatever it is that’s taking up residence in my chest feels a bit like what I’ve always seen shining from Talia’s eyes.

Love, hope, and humor.

*

Stay Tuned: There will be a patch over party!

Dedication

Tina Workman