CRISTY
I can't.
I can't tell him.
I told Helena I would explain everything, but I can't.
What if he changes his mind?
What if he decides he doesn't want me?
The thoughts circle like vultures, picking at my resolve until there's nothing left but fear.
"Cristy?"
John notices my reluctance. He sits next to me on the bed, waiting for me to speak. Patient. Calm. Everything I'm not right now.
"I don't know if I can do this. I don't want you to hate me."
I quietly murmur, but he still catches it, putting his arm around me and pulling me into his chest. His body is warm, solid, safe. Everything the world outside this room is not.
"I could never hate you. Just tell me what it is. I know something's going on, I noticed how protective Helena was. Are you in trouble? I can help, I can keep you safe, but you need to tell me what it is."
He looks worried. I don't want to worry him. He has enough on his shoulders with the club and all. The Iron Brotherhood demands everything from its President, leaves little room for complications like me.
I breathe a deep sigh before speaking. The air feels heavy in my lungs, like I'm drowning.
"My real name is Michelle Lans. I had to change it for safety purposes."
I'm cut off before I can continue.
"You are in trouble, aren't you? What is it?"
John completely ignores the fact that I just told him I'm not who he thought I was. Most people would be angry about the lie, but not him. He just wants to understand.
"I was sent here to live with my uncle and cousin to hide from the people after me."
I glance at him only to see him looking at me with imploring eyes, urging me to continue.
"I witnessed my dad's murder. The people who killed him are after me. I've been hiding for over a year, moving from one place to another, until it was decided that I would live with my uncle, who was the chief of the local police, but then he moved out, so I'm alone."
I'm pulled onto John's lap before I can take another breath. He cradles me against his chest as he caresses my hair and back, just quietly holding me as I cry. I hate showing him how weak I am, but just thinking about what I saw brings me to tears. The blood, the screaming, the sound of my father choking on his own breath.
John seems to be deep in thought about what he just heard, then asks quietly, "Helena knows, doesn't she?"
I nod against his chest.
"She does. That's why she suggested I stay at her house over the summer. She said she doesn't want me to stay alone."
I wipe at my face, angry at the tears that won't stop.
"She's been really protective ever since she heard about it. I know she talked to the bikers in San Francisco about keeping an eye on me. They're a part of your club, aren't they?"
I question curiously, wiping the tears off my cheeks. John gently pushes my hand away, instead using his own to brush the moisture off my skin. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, worry etched into his gorgeous face.
"Yeah, they are. The SF chapter is solid. Good men."
His voice is rough with emotion.
I take a shaky breath and continue. He deserves to know everything.
"They will not give up. I saw their faces and they saw mine. The detectives in charge of the case said that it's safer to change my name and stay hidden until they catch them. That's why I went to school here under a fake name. I told Helena about all this when she was still at the hospital. And after she learned that my uncle and cousin moved out, she decided to bring me here with her. Helena and Scooter are the only ones who know about this, well, apart from you."
I look up to see John's expression, suddenly feeling shy under the intensity of his gaze.
"Don't worry, my treasure. As long as you're with me, no one will hurt you."
There is pure conviction in his voice. A promise written in steel.
Before I can say anything, there's a knock on the door. I look at John questioningly, but he just grins and calls out for the person to come in.
A guy I met earlier, the one with the 'prospect' patch comes in, carrying a tray filled with food and drinks. His eyes widen slightly at the position John and I are in, me curled in the President's lap like I belong there. He quickly sets the tray on the small coffee table in the room.
John ignores the prospect, who hurriedly leaves once he's done, then picks me up and walks to the couch in the corner. His arms are strong, sure, carrying me like I weigh nothing.
"Put me down, I'm too heavy to be carried!"
I exclaim, embarrassed. He will feel all the weight on my body.
"Stop talking garbage, you're not heavy."
He chastises as he sits down on the couch, with me still in his lap.
"And I will carry you whenever I want. You're mine now and I want people to know that."
He leaves a kiss on my hair then feeds me, despite my protests. But it feels nice to have someone take care of me. It's been so long since someone paid so much attention to me. And it's especially nice that the one doing that is someone I'm in love with.
Yes, I can confidently say that I'm in love with John. He's so mature, understanding and caring it's hard not to fall for him. It's a shock to me that he would choose someone like me, a girl with so many insecurities and troubles, when he could have any woman he wants. I've noticed the looks he gets from the women in the club. They always eye him like he's a piece of candy they want to unwrap.
"I want to ask you something, but if you don't want to answer, it's fine."
John says after we're done eating. His voice is careful, gentle.
"It's okay. What is it?"
"What happened with your dad? And what about your mom? I noticed you haven't mentioned her."
I can tell he doesn't feel comfortable asking this, but I don't mind telling him everything now. He's earned the right to know.
"My mom died when I was twelve. She was fighting cancer for two years until her body finally failed."
The words come easier than I expected. Maybe because I've said them so many times they've lost their sharp edges.
"My dad had been working really hard to raise me and after a while he got a better job, where he was paid better and could work from home, so he had more time to spend with me. We moved to a different town few months later, so he would be closer to work."
I pause, gathering strength for what comes next.
"Over two years ago, there was a burglary. Both I and my dad were home. He told me to hide in the cabinet and call the cops, so I did."
My voice sounds distant even to my own ears, like I'm telling someone else's story.
"Three guys in masks entered the room we were in. They were surprised to see my dad there. They took out their knives and charged at him. Dad managed to fight them off for a while and took off their masks. I saw them clearly."
John's arms tighten around me but he doesn't speak. Doesn't interrupt.
"Then one of the guys pulled a gun. He shot my dad in the leg, before all of them took turns stabbing him with their knives."
The memory plays in my head like a horror film I can't turn off. The sound of the blade entering flesh. The wet, terrible sound of it. My father's gasps.
"I cried in the cabinet, waiting for the cops, while they killed my dad. One of them heard me. He found me inside. I jumped out of the cabinet and ran upstairs. Before they could get me, the cops came. But they got away as soon as they heard the sirens."
I feel John's jaw clench against the top of my head. His whole body has gone rigid with barely controlled rage.
"After that, I was put into a witness protection program. I had to change my name, dye my hair, wear contacts, just to be able to walk the street. I've been afraid to stay alone, so I lived with the detective in charge of my case for a while. Then I moved to a different town, where I went to school and lived in a boarding house. But they found me there, so I had to move again. And again. And again."
Each move erasing a little more of who I used to be. Michelle Lans died with her father. All that's left is this ghost wearing her face.
"Until I came here. I enrolled in school under the name Cristy Winston. I lived with my uncle, who was the chief of the police here. I can't go back to my old identity until the threat is dealt with, that's why I was worried about going to college. I couldn't register there with a fake name, so I had to use my real one. It's really risky, but I can't just give up on my life. My dad wouldn't want that."
My voice breaks on the last words.
"After I told Helena about all that, she took it upon herself to protect me. She talked to the guys from the club in San Francisco to keep an eye on me. I was surprised to hear they agreed, but I guess it's because she's the Ghost."
John doesn't interrupt me as I talk, just keeps me in his lap, leaning against the headboard of his bed and stroking my hair. I snuggle closer into his chest, craving the warmth his body provides. He's an anchor in a storm that's been raging for two years.
"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, baby. You shouldn't have to."
John leaves a kiss on the top of my head, tightening his arms around me until I can barely breathe. But it's a good kind of suffocation.
"No wonder Helena was so adamant about getting you home before dark. She's extremely protective of people she cares about."
I smile at that despite the tears still wet on my face.
"She went through a lot herself, so I get why she's like that."
I hesitate before continuing, not sure how John will take this.
"Few weeks ago, those guys found me, again."
I see John's face darken with fury.
"Helena was with me. She beat them up really bad, then told me to come home with her for the summer. If the situation is not dealt with by the end of it, she said she would move in with me back in San Francisco. But I couldn't possibly pressure her like that. I'm not her responsibility."
"But you're mine. I will take care of you from now on."
John declares with pure determination in his voice. I open my mouth to argue, but he shuts me up with a kiss. Heat floods my cheeks when he pulls away. I still can't get used to his kisses, even though we kissed a lot today.
"I love it when you blush."
He softly says, running his knuckles over the red skin.
"It's involuntary."
My voice comes out breathless.
He doesn't respond to that, just presses his lips against my cheek in the gentlest kiss.
"And don't worry about those bastards. If they as much as try to put their hands on you, they're dead men walking. I can promise you that."
He pulls me even closer to his chest, crushing me against his body and I soak in the feeling. Despite him being so hard and muscled, he's really comfortable to snuggle into. I actually feel myself becoming sleepy in his embrace. It's so nice. Safe. The first time in two years I've felt truly safe.
"You can stay the night if you want. It's really late."
He suggests and I sleepily nod at him.
He gives me his shirt and shorts to sleep in, and after a quick shower I go back to his room, suddenly feeling shy about spending the night here. I mean, we only confessed our feelings today. Am I really ready for this step?
His bathroom smells like him. Leather and motor oil and something clean underneath. I pull his shirt over my head and it drowns me, falling to mid-thigh. The fabric is soft from wear, warm from where he's held it.
"I can see the cogs turning in your head."
I snap my gaze to John, who's patiently waiting on his bed, already showered. His hair is still damp, droplets of water catching the dim light.
"There's no need to worry. I won't do anything you're not ready for."
He assures me. And I believe him. Everything about him screams control, protection, patience.
I shyly make my way towards his bed before lying down. The sheets are clean, simple. Navy blue, like everything else in his room. Masculine and spare.
John turns off the lights and immediately pulls me to him, getting into a spooning position. His body curves around mine, protective and warm. He presses a kiss on the back of my head and I fall into sleep with a smile on my face for the first time in two years.
"Dobranoc, mój skarbie."
I hear him murmur right before I fall asleep.
Goodnight, my treasure.
For the first time since the night my father died, I don't have nightmares.