Shattered (Koa #5)

Asher

W hen my leg was injured in that motorcycle accident, I was so panicked, afraid that nothing would be the same. I let that fear consume me, and it ended up being my downfall. My life was fueled with anger and fear.

Now, everything’s changed.

Almost losing Lila eclipsed any other fear or anger I was holding on to. It changed everything. But the after? It’s what glued us both back together.

We became a unit. She was my legs, and I was her backbone. Every bit of anger and malice we had for each other before was written over with support and understanding.

We got through it. Together.

I’m washing Lila’s hair in the salad bowl. While her body is fully healed, including her chest, and she’s come far enough to be able to take showers from the neck down, water on her head is still a huge trigger for her. So every time she needs her hair washed, I fill a big salad bowl with cool water, and we do it together. I talk to her the whole time to keep her grounded, and she says it helps.

I actually enjoy doing her hair. At first, when Macy taught me how to braid her hair, it was out of necessity. Her body was so spent that for her to try to hold her arms up long enough to do anything with her hair was just not feasible, not to mention her shattered mental state. It’s turned into a routine of me washing, blow drying, and doing her hair, and now, minus the hair washing, she loves it. She says it makes her feel cared for.

And she is. She always is.

I’ve mastered several different hairstyles on her, but today, she wanted a crown braid, the one I’m best at. Once it’s done, she heads upstairs to get dressed.

I follow her up shortly after, using my cane to get me to the stair lift we had installed a couple of months ago. It’s a chair on a track along the wall that folds down. I can sit down on it, hit a button, and it carries me up the stairs, removing my biggest headache of getting around in this house.

With the right attitude, a bum leg isn’t a life sentence; it’s just a different way to live. Once I got past my stubborn ego, everything became easier.

I’m wearing the same suit I borrowed from Gareth. Walking into the bedroom, I find my beautiful girl adorned in a sweet yellow dress. It’s floor length and has no straps other than the thin loop that holds it up around her neck, covering her entire chest. She’s been wearing lots of clothing that make it hard to ogle her tiny tits, and while I completely understand she wants to hide her mangled chest, I can’t wait to redo her tattoo so she won’t feel like she has to hide anymore. It’s not going to be perfect, and it may not even be possible, but she wants to try once her skin is fully healed, and I completely understand why. She loved that tiger, and she wants to take back whatever she can that the brothers stole from her.

“Yellow? Seriously?” It’s taken some time, but much of our original banter has returned. A fly on the wall would think we hate each other, but it’s the farthest thing from the truth. We just love pushing each other’s buttons.

She grins. “Anything to piss you off.”

It’s easier to get dressed now. I have a chair I sit in, and I get my legs into my pants and boxers. From there, I’ll get my shirt on, and when I use my cane to stand up, I lean on my good side and put everything into place. I still don’t know how to tie a tie, and I feel pretty fucking stupid about it. So, instead of spending twenty minutes fighting it, I put the rest of my suit on and drape it over my shoulders before walking over to Lila with a pleading expression.

“Don’t look at me. I’ve never worn a tie,” she laughs.

We arrive at Turner’s and pull in just behind Edgar and Nash. I open the door before they can rush inside, hollering for help.

“Ed, Nash, help!”

They turn just as Lila and I step out of the car. Nash chuckles, approaching me with amusement. He has my tie done up before I have time to blink.

“Nash, show him how,” Edgar says with an amused smirk.

“How many times did we show him when we helped him with his date? He’s hopeless. ”

I know they’re having a laugh. These guys don’t have a mean bone between the two of them.

“Teach me; it’ll save you all time,” Lila laughs.

“That works,” I say. “I’ll do your hair, and you tie my ties. Though it doesn’t seem like a fair trade.”

The house is filled with activity. Coolers of food are stacked by the back door for the reception, which will be held in the courtyard. The moment Turner lays eyes on me, he smiles. This is my first time in his house since I inquired about his club. Now, so much has changed.

“Lila, can I borrow for a moment? The women are getting ready in the guest rooms,” he says.

“As long as you return him in the same condition he’s in now,” she says.

It’s been a running joke that everyone here wants to beat the crap out of me like they used to. While the other men head out to the yard where everyone gathers, I’m left alone in the kitchen with Turner.

“I have something to show you,” Turner says.

While I don’t question him too much, when he heads for the door to the club, Koa, I stiffen in place.

“No stairs, man, I’m not taking any chances.”

“Just get your stubborn ass over here.”

This guy really knows how to piss people off. But once he opens the door with a little silver key and I get a glimpse of what’s behind it, all the anger washes away.

“Well?”

I’m at a loss for words. It’s a stair lift, just like the one we put in at home. And the thing wasn’t fucking cheap, either.

“You’re serious?” is all I can say .

He nods. When he pulls the key out of the lock and relocks it, he offers it to me. “Welcome in.”

I take the key from him, lost for words.

“There’s a room down there with your name on it for you and Lila.”

“Thank you, Turner. For everything. Why do I feel like I’ve been adopted into this weird family?”

“Because you have. We’re a disaster, but we’re a family.”

He’s right. This is so much more of a family than the one I was born into. I have a mom and dad out there somewhere, but they feel irrelevant. They didn’t want me.

Here, at Koa, I’m not only wanted but almost feel needed. I feel like one of them.

“I saw your new sign at the shop,” Turner says.

“You like?”

“I think it’s perfect.”

It is. And Lila’s come a long way in the last few months. She’s almost ready to start on client skin, and she’s done a few more on me, as well as one on almost every single one of her friends. She may be filling his chair, but she’ll never replace him. She’ll bring new life into the shop.

The shop we decided to rename “Bane’s Tattoo.”