Melancholy Read online

  He takes a moment to respond. Alec knows about Maddox, about my past, and even though he agrees that Maddox was a good man for saving me, he doesn’t like him. He’s never met him, of course; I just don’t think he likes the idea that Maddox is the President of a massive MC club.

  A – Dinner Saturday?

  S – That sounds perfect. I need a break. Where shall we meet?

  A – I think it’s about time I came and picked you up, don’t you?

  I sigh, but he’s right. I can’t hide him from Maddox forever.

  S – I think you’re right.

  A – I’ll be at your house around 6.30.

  S – See you then.

  A – Goodnight, sweetheart.

  I smile, and tuck my phone away. I think about how Maddox will react to Alec showing up. I can only pray he’s at the clubhouse, so I don’t have to put up with his wrath. Because there will be wrath. Maddox is protective of me in a way that comes across as obsessive to some. I’m used to it now.

  I rub my eyes and decide to text Maddox, too.

  S – Hey . . .

  M – Really? Hey?

  I sigh. God, I wish I could say all the things I want to say to Maddox. But I can’t. I just can’t. We’re a time bomb, slowly ticking together.

  S – I just wanted to see how you were.

  M – I’m fine. Goin’ to be there in ten.

  S – You’re coming to see me?

  M – Don’t act like that shocks you. Mack said you wanted to shower.

  S – You might not be allowed in. It’s getting late.

  M – I’ll get in.

  I sigh, and put the phone on the table beside the bed. He’ll get in, all right. I lie back against the pillows and close my eyes, waiting. I must drift off, because I feel a hand against my cheek what seems like only seconds later. I open my eyes, and Maddox is staring down at me.

  “Just droppin’ your clothes off.”

  “I . . . ah . . . thanks.”

  He tilts his head to the side. God, he’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I hate that any man would look this good. His long, dark hair falls down over his shoulders, so thick and beautiful. He’s built like a statue. His muscles are big and hard. His chest, which I’ve had the pleasure of seeing many times, is defined, and runs perfectly down to his eight-pack.

  Yeah, the man has the full eight-pack of love bumps. Then there’s that V . . . oh boy. He’s got a chest full of tattoos, even some running down his belly. The one I hate is across his back. I hate it because it’s my name, Santana in big, black, angry letters.

  “Maddox,” I whisper.

  He leans in closer. “Mmmm.”

  “I’m safe . . . right?”

  He nods. “Never let anything happen to you, Tana. You know that.”

  “So, I can . . . go out once I get home?”

  He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “You can go out, with the protection of the guys or me.”

  I close my eyes. “Maddox-” I begin, but he cuts me off.

  “Ain’t givin’ you a choice. I can’t keep you housebound, but I sure as shit ain’t lettin’ you out alone. You can argue, but it’ll do you no fuckin’ good.”

  “Fine,” I mutter. “Fine.”

  “You wanna tell me why you’re askin’ that question?”

  “I, ah, I want to go out with a friend Saturday night. That’s all.”

  “You’re a bad fuckin’ liar. Now tell me the damn truth.”

  I sigh and turn to him, our eyes meeting. “I’m . . . I’m seeing someone, Maddox.”

  I’ve never seen a man change from relaxed to stiff so quickly in my life. His entire body jerks, and his shoulders straighten. His face hardens, and I watch in shock as his mouth forms a hard line. Oh shit.

  “It’s nothing serious,” I say quickly. I don’t know why I need to justify my actions, but his look . . . it’s hurting me. “I just wanted you to know, considering all that’s happened.”

  He proceeds to hurt me more when he turns without another word and disappears out of the room. I call out for him, but he doesn’t come back in. I wait. I wait, and I wait. But I know he’s gone.

  Well shit.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  2008 – Santana

  I stroke my sister’s hair, singing softly to her as she falls into a deep slumber. I stare down at her, knowing all of this is for her. There is no other reason I fight the way I do. When her breathing evens out, I push to my feet and walk out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.

  My feet feel heavy as I walk down the halls, knowing what I’m walking into, knowing how it’s going to feel. The pain won’t hold me back, though. Nothing will. Instead, the pain will be what drives me to let him hurt me. He knows I need him now. He knows he’s all I’ve got, and if I’m honest, he’s all I want.

  There is no beautiful reason for the attachment I feel towards Kennedy. The reason I want him is because he gives me what I want, what I need. He knows how to take the pain away, to let me pretend for just a moment that I’m anywhere but here.

  “Come here, Tanie,” he murmurs, stroking his knee.

  Kennedy isn’t a cruel man; he doesn’t hit me or hurt me. When I came to him six months ago, desperate and cold from the streets, he took Pippa and I in. One night only four months ago, four short months, he gave me something to help me feel better.

  From that day on, he gives me what I need, when I need it.

  I walk over to him, wishing I had the willpower to turn away. I’ve tried it, but nothing can make me turn from what he’s offering. What he gives me makes me feel good inside, and I figure if I’ve got control over it, what can it hurt?

  Oh, how stupid I am.

  I slide onto his knee and his arm snakes around my waist. He smiles at me, showing me a dimple in his cheek as he ties a little yellow tube around my arm. I close my eyes, leaning into him, relishing in the feeling of the needle breaking my skin and the warm rush of liquid that fills my body as he injects me with pure heaven.

  Everything leaves. Nothing hurts.

  A smile plays lazily around my lips as I lean into him. He drops his ear to my lips, murmuring words I know I’ll forget tomorrow. “I have big plans for you, Tanie. Big plans. This will help.”

  His words don’t sink into the parts of my brain that they should. Instead, I’m drifting off into a happy place I’ve grown so accustomed to. A place where there is no pain, no heartache, and no lies. It’s all beautiful, and amazing, and free.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing my temple. “My good, sweet little girl.”

  Hmmmm, being his good, sweet little girl feels good.

  So good I never want to leave.

  ~*~*~*~

  “Tana, wake up.”

  My mind is a foggy mess as I hear the voice, distant, in my mind. I groan, shoving the cold, clammy hand on my face away. I want to sleep. I’m tired. My body is tired. I’m cold.

  “Tana, please.”

  Whimpering.

  I blink my eyes open, but all I see is a blurred figure in front of me. I blink some more. My head is pounding, and my entire body hurts. Why do all things that feel good have to hurt so much after?

  “Pippa?” I croak.

  “I’m sick, Tana. I’m sick.”

  Sick.

  I feel sick right now, too.

  I push up onto my elbows, staring over at my little sister. She’s pale, really pale, and she’s got chunks of vomit covering her shirt. My eyes widen and I stand quickly, too quickly. My head spins, and I reach out to steady myself, using the wall as my strong hold.

  “What . . . Why are you sick? Did you eat something bad?” I groan.

  God, my head is pounding.

  “I just feel sick, and then I started throwing up. I tried to wake you so many times.”

  Her voice hitches, and my entire body shakes with emotion as I realize I’ve let her down.

  “I’m sorry, Pippi,” I
whisper. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  I lead her out of the room and down the halls. I reach the bathroom and gasp. There’s vomit everywhere. “Oh, Pippi.”

  “I tried to keep it in the toilet, but I just . . . it was coming so hard, Tana.”

  “It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’ll get it.”

  I slowly walk out and gather up a bucket and sponge. Then I head back in. Pippa is looking a little less pale, but she’s still clutching her stomach. I lower my aching body to my hands and knees, and start to clean up the mess. My stomach turns violently, and before I know it, my own vomit rises and joins hers on the floor.

  It’s at that exact moment I know I’ve let my life spiral out of control.

  I know because my sister is sick, and instead of taking care of her, I’m suffering in my own self-inflicted world of pain.

  I’ve failed her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  2014 – Santana

  I get out of the hospital early the next morning. Maddox is there to collect me, and he doesn’t say a word as I hobble out with my bag. He’s angry at me—I know he is. He doesn’t like the idea of Alec, and I don’t like the idea that it hurts him. But he’s not yet once told me he regrets being with Ash, or even that he wants anything from me. I can’t play games.

  “Get on my bike, throw your bag to Mack,” he grunts.

  “Maddox,” I begin, but his hand shoots up in front of my face.

  “Don’t.”

  “You’re angry at me, and I don’t understand why. You were with Ash and Krypt, at the same damned time, and now you’re angry because I’m going on a date?”

  “I said, fuckin’ don’t,” he warns, his voice a low, lethal hiss.

  “Jesus,” I snap. “Fine. You broody, arrogant—”

  He cuts me off with a look so deadly, my mouth snaps closed. I say nothing more; I just get on his bike, tossing my pack at Mack who is watching the two of us argue. He catches it with one hand, throwing it in his side pannier.

  I get on the back of Maddox’s bike; my leg stretches and pulls, burning slightly. Maddox gets on in front of me, starting the bike without another word.

  I hesitate, not wanting to put my arms around him. With a grunt, he reaches back and jerks my hands forward until they’re curled around him. I grit my teeth as he pulls out onto the road, waving for the guys to follow. There are ten or so bikers with us, for protection purposes, no doubt. They surround him as he rides, ensuring that if shots are fired, they have to go through them first.

  We arrive at his house, and another four bikers are already outside, watching to make sure no one came past while Maddox was gone. They’ll trail me wherever I go now, and that’s the sucky part of being protected by a club. When shit goes down, you can’t get rid of them.

  I get off Maddox’s bike, but his hand lashes out, curling around my wrist and holding me still. He turns to Tyke and Rhyder, and barks, “The house good?”

  “Good Prez, checked every inch, and there ain’t no one come past.”

  Maddox gives a sharp nod and lets me go. I throw the pack Mack hands me over my shoulder, ignoring his smirk. I trudge past the bikers—well, I hobble past, and head inside. The house is clean, surprisingly. My guess is Ash and possibly some of the Old Ladies have come around and cleaned it.

  Ignoring the voices below, I got straight to my room. I drop my bag onto the bed and sit down. I shove my jeans down over my hips and flick them off. I need a decent shower – I feel...stale. Staring down at the bandage on my calf, I frown. I already know it’s going to leave a good scar, and God it hurts.

  I stretch it out a little, and then finish undressing. I disappear into my bathroom, closing the door softly. The moment I step in and the warm water hits my skin, is like heaven. I’ve missed it. I wash my hair twice, exfoliate my skin, and then get out. I dry my hair, and pull a towel around myself.

  When I step out, I see Maddox right away. He’s at the door, staring at me. His big arms are across his chest. He narrows his eyes when he sees I’ve showered, and mutters, “Are you supposed to get that wet?” He nods his head in the direction of my leg.

  I shrug. “It’s fine, the dressing is waterproof.”

  He nods and lifts a package. “Pain killers.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  He stares at me, shaking his head as if not understanding.

  “I’ve had an addiction, a severe one. I don’t want them.”

  “You’re goin’ to be fuckin’ sore.”

  “So be it.”

  He tucks them into his jeans, and then he lifts his eyes to mine. I can see how tight his jaw is, and I know he’s pissed off because I’m going out with Alec.

  “Are you going to make me suffer all night?” I ask, pulling my towel tighter around myself.

  “Nah.”

  “Is there a problem with me dating?”

  “Nah.”

  “Fuck, Maddox. Come on.”

  He growls, and runs his fingers through his long hair. “Shit is goin’ down, and all you’re thinkin’ about is seein’ some pansy fuckin’ boy.”

  I glare at him, my fingers growing tight on my towel. “Firstly, I care about the shit that’s going down, and secondly, he is not a boy.”

  Maddox grunts and uncrosses his arms. “He’s a God damned boy, but you wouldn’t know, because you ain’t ever had a fuckin’ man.”

  Then he turns and walks towards the door.

  “Seriously? That’s it?”

  He grunts.

  “Maddox!”

  Another grunt.

  “Asshole,” I mutter.

  “Brat,” he retorts, and then closes the door behind me.

  Men.

  ~*~*~*~

  2014 Santana

  I wake up sobbing. The pain in my leg is intense—it burns and itches, and my head is pounding from lack of decent sleep. I move and it’s clear the bruising has started to shine through, because it feels as if someone has hit me with a sledgehammer. I try to throw my legs out of the bed, but a ragged cry leaves my throat.

  God, it hurts.

  My door flies open, and I look up to see a sleep-ruffled Maddox, half naked, staring over at me. He runs his hand through his messy hair, his muscles flexing and pulling as he does. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Nothing.”

  He mutters a few choice words, and then growls, “What’s fuckin’ goin’ on?”

  “I’m in pain,” I snap. “Can you leave?”

  He walks over, dropping onto the bed beside me. “Got some good pain killers there.”

  “I can’t take them,” I mutter, crossing my arms.

  “You can.”

  “No,” I say, turning to him. “I have a problem with addiction.”

  “Santana . . .you had some in the hospital...”

  “I know, but I can’t take anymore. The more I take, the harder it’ll get. Don’t make me take those,” I whisper, exhausted. “Please.”

  He sighs. “You’re askin’ me to sit here and watch you suffer in pain.”

  “I’ll be okay, I swear. It’ll ease.”

  “Let me get somethin’ for the swelling then.”

  He stands and walks out. He returns five minutes later with a bag of peas wrapped in a towel. He sits back on the bed, and points to the pillows. “Lie down.”

  I do as he asks, crying out with each movement. He takes my leg, gently, and places the pack over it. Then he stuffs some pillows under it, raising it slightly. “This should help.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stares over at me, and a sing-song voice calls out from his room. “Maddox?”

  Our eyes hold. I’m used to Maddox having women around, and I’m not in a position to argue—how can I? I am seeing someone else on the weekend, and I am asking him to be okay with that. He’s challenging me, though. Staring at me, daring me to throw a fit.

  I won’t.

  “You better go,” I say, my voice weaker than I’d like.

  He rub
s his hand over his muscled belly. “Yeah.”

  He gets up and walks towards the door, looks back at me before leaving, but says nothing.

  What is there to say? Really?

  ~*~*~*~

  I stare at myself in the mirror, eyeing my short dress. It’s one Ash gave me, and I’m not sure it’s appropriate. It’s hot, sure, but I think it’s a little too hot. I frown and turn, checking out the back again. Well, the back it doesn’t have. I sigh and spin around, instead focusing on fluffing up my hair.

  Alec will be here in an hour, and I’m still not sure I look right. Is he expecting a pretty dress? A sexy dress? Something casual? Will this be too much for where we’re going? I shake my head, and decide that it’s just too hard to make a choice; I’m going with it. I apply some extra lipstick and turn, walking out of my room and down the stairs.

  I skid to a halt when I see Maddox in the living area. He’s not meant to be here. I know he has club business, so there’s only one reason he’s stuck around–to make sure Alec knows he’s in my life, and isn’t leaving. I glare at him as I hit the bottom step, but he’s not noticing, instead, he’s staring at my dress.

  “Came home to meet this man,” he practically spits the word at me, “and you come down in that.”

  “That,” I growl, “is none of your business.”

  “There ain’t no way in fuckin’ hell I’m lettin’ you out in that.”

  My mouth drops open, and my hands fly to my hips. “You don’t get a choice.”

  His eyes meet mine, piercing and angry. “I do fuckin’ get a choice. Go and change it, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder, dump you on the bed and do it myself. You want your boyfriend to come in with me between your legs, baby?”

  “Fuck you, Maddox.”

  He grins, the fucker. “Anytime, honey.”

  “I’m not changing, and you’re not my father, so you can’t fucking make me.”

  His grin widens. “Can’t I?”

  I take a step back. “This is sick—you know that, right? The control you think you have over me. I’m a grown woman, and I can do what I like.”

  “You want this man to respect you?”