Filed to story: Cora and Gunner MC Story Book PDF Free
“Scones, we love you, and the work you put into the kitchen. Never put yourself down. We would be lost without you all these years. You are more than a cook to us,” I said as heartfeltly as I could.
“That’s kind of you to say Now pick up that woman of yours and take her to the bathroom. She’s been sitting here all night, and being fed and watered, it has to be ready to come out.” I looked at Cora, raising an eyebrow, as if asking her if she needed the bathroom.
“Please,” I moved and picked her up. She squealed at my quick movement. I tried to be gentle and careful, but with her tensing up like that, it might have caused some pain. I moved quickly through the back hall to the seldom-used bathroom.
When Cora was done, I took a moment to capture her lips and enjoy having her in my arms. I had to be back on the floor soon. It’s not good for me to be gone too long.
“Are you tired? I can take you back to our room. If you’ve had enough, I have a few more hours to put in yet.”
“Yeah, I am tired, and want some painkillers, if you don’t mind and have the time. I know you are working.” Cora looked at me shyly, her eyes pleading to take her back to her room,
“You bet, sweetheart.” I picked her up and, with less haste, took her up to our room. I needed to get her a key at some point.
“Need anything before I leave? “I asked after depositing Cora on the bed and bringing the crutches closer. “No, thank you. This is fine. I will strip down and get some rest.” I gave her another soft kiss, fighting the urge to make it so much more. Before leaving her on the bed, when I reached the door, I turned around to look at her one more time before getting back to work.
Cora POV
Relief, that’s what I felt, when Gunner suggested going to my room. I was tired, and my ears were ringing from all the loud music and voices shouting to be heard over it. Once Gunner left, I stripped down, put on a dressing gown, turned off the light, left a small bedside light on, enough to see around, and hobbled to the balcony, taking one of the seats out there.
The party was still raging downstairs, but it was not so loud up here on the balcony. It was time for me to address all those messages. It would be detrimental to my healing to ignore them any longer. As Scones said, the sooner I cleared the air, the better I would feel, and it would be a step towards healing.
I scrolled through the messages from my Dad first; it was only one.
“Where the fuk are you? Your brother is worried.” I stopped being someone of importance when he took on a new wife, my stepmother, and I was more or less forgotten. He was never mean, well, not physically, but he always took my stepmother and stepbrother’s side over mine. I had given up a while ago, no longer doing things to make him proud of me, and still seeing me as his daughter.
“I have a new job, no longer your burden. Don’t worry about me.” I sent before I changed my mind, and overthought it.
Who’s next, my so-called friend, stepbrother, or ex-boyfriend?
It took me a while to decide on a group message for the three of them, and I had to think about what to say three times.
“I have moved on, I am safe, and don’t need any of you to worry about me. Or contact ME again.” I sent a photo of the three of them in bed together, along with the message.
Satisfied I had done what I needed to do, I proceeded to block my ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend’s contact, leaving my stepbrother, as I am positive Dad would be angry if deleted the family contacts. Besides, I want to see what he says when he views the photo. If he gets out of hand, I will send it to his mum and my dad so they can see why I moved on. For now, I thought I was being nice, leaving them out of the real reason. Who knows, maybe they already know, and only I was the one being left out.
As I blocked the two exes, I felt calm, and relief came over me. I had done it, I might have done it cowardly, but it was done, and now I have to wait for the backlash. I have yet to share this with Gunner. I am not sure if I am ready to do that yet, or if I would share it. It’s like I had his girlfriend or anything, just a bed buddy, and I am fine with that, in no hurry to open myself up for more hurt. Although I have to admit, for a big hunk of a bad boy image, he’s been kind and gentle with me.
Sitting back in the chair, my phone on the small table, looking out at the sky, the twinkling stars, and the full moon, I feel contentment, a kind of freedom from the shackles of home, like they can’t get at me here. I am safe. If they found me, they might be hard-pressed to get through the gates. It’s a good feeling, one I never thought I would find. For now, I am going to let Gunner look after me. I put it down to the guilt of my being shot, protecting him, that he’s so attentive, but I will accept it, for what it is, and enjoy it till I can get to working at the hospital.
The night was getting cooler, so I moved back inside, climbed into bed, and took some pain relief. It was bearable at the moment, but given time, it would wake me, and then I’d be searching for the pills in the night, waking Gunner. Best to take them now, before it becomes a problem.
Sleep found me not long after I hit the pillow.
I roused a little when the door opened, and listened to the movement, clothes hitting the floor, and the bed dipping. The smell of smoke and Gunner’s unique scent hit my nose, and I relaxed, knowing it was him. I became a light sleeper. Not long after my Mum died and before I gained a stepfamily, Dad had entered my room at night, drunk, and slapped me around. It was the one and only time he hit me like that. I got the occasional slap from dear stepmum, but Dad was so shocked the next day, when he saw my swollen face, that he never came near me again. That was also about the time he stopped showing he cared. Stopped talking to me, and stopped acknowledging birthdays or Christmas. Once he got remarried, it was all hers and her son, the boy Dad always wanted.
I miss my mum; life went to pot after she died. I am repeating myself now. Hurt and pain can do that to you, put you on repeat.
My mind at last shut off, and I enjoyed the sound of Gunner’s deep breathing. It was calming in a weird kind of way and lulled me back to sleep. His arms had snaked their way around my body and pulled me closer to him. Right before he dropped off to slumber land, it was ever so slow and gentle. Between the warmth of his body, the warm breath on my neck and the slow breathing, combined, had become my favourite sleep tonic.
My bladder woke me at the same time, and Gunner’s phone rang, making me jump in surprise.
“Easy there, love. Only the phone.” Gunner moved to answer his phone, one arm keeping me securely to his chest.
“Yeah.” He grunted annoyingly into the phone.
“Yeah, we’re awake, give me fifteen.” He hung up and sighed, running his hand over his face.
“Time to rise, that shooter needs our attention,” Gunner said, throwing back the blanket and sliding his feet to the floor. Before I could process it, Gunner had moved in front of me, looped his arms under my legs, the other on my back, and carried me bridal style to the bathroom. Lowered my feet to the ground and held them till I had my feet firmly planted on the floor. He used the toilet first while I washed my face. Then we swapped sides, and I used it, then washed my hands, never once feeling self-conscious. Being a nurse, I have learned that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Some patients make you turn around or ask you to leave the room because they can’t pee while you are in the room, even though they’re in a shared room with three other blocks. Go figure. I guess they would be the type of men who use a cubicle instead of the urinal, out in public, maybe a tiny appendage, and don’t want you to see it.
I quickly got dressed in slacks and a shirt, not ready for jeans on my thigh, which was still tender to the touch
“Come on.” Gunner handed me the crutches to hold onto, and then lifted me and the crutches up. At the door, he stopped.
“Can you check the door, make sure it’s locked, don’t want anyone unwanted to walk in?” I did what he asked, reaching down to try the handle, He nodded his satisfaction and turned down the hallway.
We didn’t stop for breakfast; we just walked down a hall, into a room at the end, and to a door in that room where a man stood guard. Soon we were on our way down a set of stone steps to another floor below. Another man opened the door for us, and we entered another passageway. On the walls were sconces, providing just enough light to see where we were going; they were set opposite a closed door. Further down the hall, two men were standing outside an open door, and groans of pain could be heard; my nursing instinct kicked in, and I started to surmise what the patient’s condition was before I even entered the room.
Gunner lowered me to the ground and turned to the door, leaving me to enter on my own. I placed the crutches under my armpits and moved forward.
