Bad Boys of Romance:a Biker Anthology(6)

By: Kasey Millstead

She’s five years older than me, but acts about ten years younger. I married her three years ago after she fell pregnant with my baby.

Two days after the wedding, she lost the baby and she’s been ‘drowning her sorrows’ ever since. Least, that’s what she says. Problem is, she was always a big drinker, so her reasoning doesn’t stick with me. Not only that, but it hurt me too when she lost the baby, but you don’t see me downing vodka like it’s water every single night until I obliterate myself so badly I piss and shit all over myself.

If I call her out on it, though, she cries and begs me not to be angry at her, and up until now, I usually let her get away with it. But, now? Now, something inside me is shifting and I’m just so fucking sick and tired of this shit.

I sigh and scrub my hands over my face. An image of Jenn appears behind my closed eyelids and I smile.

She’s really something.

My eyes open and I scowl. There’s a trail of vomit through the living room, into the kitchen, up the cupboards and into the sink.

Fucking Christ!

For about the millionth time in the last three years, I wonder how my life turned into this.

Why have I put up with it for three fucking long-ass years?

Why did I even marry her in the first place? I never loved her, that’s for sure. I guess I felt a sense of responsibility to my child and I wanted a stable family environment for it to grow up in. Amber railroaded me; told me we should get married straight away. She didn’t want to be fat in the wedding pictures and she couldn’t wait until the baby was born because she didn’t want to spend her wedding night caring for a newborn.

To shut her up, more than anything, I agreed. We got married in a short service at the courthouse. I can’t even remember what she wore.

I clean up the vomit and get Amber out of the shower before dressing her and putting her back to bed.

“I’m goin’ to the club.”

“Please, don’t leave me,” she begs, climbing to her knees, her body swaying, her words still slurring.

I sigh, wearily. “I’ve got to go. You need to get yourself sorted out. I ain’t livin’ with this shit forever, Amber,” I reply harshly.

She blinks. I’ve never once spoken those words to her and they shock her. To be honest, I had resigned myself to living like this for the rest of my life, but ever since meeting Jenn this week, something inside of me has changed. All of a sudden I don’t want to live with an alcoholic for a wife for the rest of my life. I don’t want to live in a loveless marriage.

I want something better. I want a woman who I want to come home to.

I take a good look at her. Her mouth is open in shock and she’s staring at me with sad eyes. Her blonde hair un-brushed, ratty and wet. Her skin a ghostly pale color, her cheeks sunken, her bony arms barely supporting her malnourished frame.

She needs help.

I’ll get her help. Then, I’ll leave. Start afresh. And, maybe, for once in my life, I’ll have something better.

I don’t go to the club.

After picking up a pizza and a six-pack of beer, I find myself pulling into Jenn’s drive. Her car is there, so I stop behind it and cut the engine.

Balancing the beer and the pizza in one hand, I knock using the other and wait for her to answer.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take her long.

“Switch?” She says upon opening her door. “What are doing here?” She looks over my shoulder, as if she’s expecting someone to be with me.

“You gonna let me in, bright eyes? This pizza’s fucking hot and it’s burning a hole through my arm.”

“Oh,” she gasps, her good manners taking over. She moves out of the way and lets me in. I set the pizza on the counter, grab a slice and pop the top of a beer before holding them both out to her.

“W-what’s going on?” She stammers, looking fucking adorable in her confused state.

“You’ve gotta eat, right?” I shrug, still holding my hands out to her.

Warily, she takes the beer and sets it on the counter before taking the pizza and reaching over into a cupboard to get some plates.

I toss a few slices onto the plate she hands me, and load hers up with some more as well. “Grab the beer, will you?” I take the plates and walk over to her couch.

Also By Kasey Millstead

Last Updated

Hot Read


Top Books