Biker's Claim The Broken Angel is Mine (Cora and Jake) novel Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Cora POV

Watching Gunner leave was harder than I wanted it to be. He had started to become someone I looked forward to seeing, and I was sad when he left. He had planted himself in my life when I was at my lowest, and I have to remind myself that it was a kind of transference, a rebound, and not to get too attached.

Having to finish the day in a hurry, I won’t deny it was disappointing, but what more could I do? The boss rings, you have to go. I get it, I was warned, but it still disappointed me. How do the other ladies cope with

the unknown?

I loved the speed, on the bike, more than I thought I would, like part of me had been craving something, to shake it up, and get out of the safe cocoon I had wrapped myself in. My exes and stepbrother pushed me to make changes, by their actions of lying and cheating behind my back, and tried to make it all my fault, when I had nothing to do with their choices; I just made it too easy for them to make those choices, that didn’t include me, but were still expected to continue as if all was fine in the world.

Today, I discovered something about myself: I love speed and the danger it brings. I know the risks, have dealt with the consequences at the hospital often, but that didn’t stop me from wanting it. I must be insane, but it was time to move on and find out who I really am, and thanks to Gunner, I have had a taste of what life can offer. Moving here was the best decision I have made in a long time. My only regret was how that decision was made. That last image will haunt me for a long time to come, and if I start to cave, thinking all was okay with them doing that, that somehow I was partly to blame too, I can look at the video and remember the betrayal, and ensure I don’t forget/forgive maybe, but never forget.

They are dead to me now.

Just wish the pain of it would go away faster. Memories of how it was when I didn’t know come to my mind unexpectedly, like a song, or a smell, or a sound, or even the sunset, can set off another bout of sad memories, of happier times. Now I feel I am repeating myself, that hurt that still sits at the edge of my heart and mind all the time, that flares up when I least expect it.

No.

I refuse to carry this burden as if it were all my doing.

Get a grip.

Move on.

Yeah, right, keep telling yourself all that, maybe one day you will believe it.

C

Moving inside my home, I felt it was tiny but comfortable. One of the other occupants, a few doors down, had her windows open, and music was floating to me, some old crooner, singer about white Christmas, it’s nowhere near Christmas. I closed my door to block out the music and put on the radio, some rock station, and AD/DC, Thunderstruck filled my home. I moved to the music as I swept the floors and tidied up the

Chapter 35

Claims

bathroom. An hour later, my housework was done, I checked the freezer, and pulled out a very large steak. If Gunner comes over, it will do us both; if he doesn’t, I can freeze it as a quick microwave meal for later. I nuked it to defrost, and then put it in a dish to marinate; it should be ready in a few hours.

Pulled out my laptop, opened a Word document, and started the complaint to the council. I searched the internet for news articles about people complaining or being hurt by fast cyclists, and there were many. I started adding them to my letter, assigned a number to each, and found over fifty. I also copied and pasted photos of some injuries that had occurred. I then logged in to the hospital nurse’s portal, searched for any incident records, and found a few more. I used those pictures, but didn’t put anyone’s name on them. By the time I reached the summary page and suggestions, which included a map of the area in question and proposed improvements, it was over one hundred pages long. I saved the complaint in a new folder on my laptop. Opened my sss, and put in all the sss addresses Gunner remembered to send me, plus the local mayor, the opposition member, the editor of one of the local newspapers, because the paper had run articles about that problem a few times, a lobby group I found regarding the park, and the government minister of the state, I didn’t want this issue to be swept under the carpet. Then, as a last thought, I sent it to Gunner, so he was in the loop. I was glad he included his own sss address.

Satisfied I had done all I could, I pushed send before I changed my mind, and the complaint pages became even longer.

It was past six in the afternoon, or is it called early evening? When does it stop being afternoon and start being called evening? When the sun goes down? Possible, but then winter evenings start early and mornings start later. Another one of my silly thoughts that comes to mind randomly.

My thoughts turned to dinner; my stomach grumbled, reminding me it wanted something. I had been so busy with the letter of complaint that I went to the kitchen, put on the kettle to make a cup of tea, and turned the burner on for the steak and the oven on to preheat. I thought I would cook some potatoes and make a potato bake to go with the steak and a salad. I hummed along to the radio; some Chuck Berry song came on during a golden oldies theme hour as I peeled and sliced the potatoes, lost in my task.

I put the potato bake in the oven and the steaks in the pan before wiping my hands on the apron, tidying the mess I had made.

Dinner was almost cooked when a knock on my door had me looking up.to open the door.

Who stood on the other side had me ready to scream some obscenities, but the best I could do was say. “What in the mother duck, do you want, and how in the diddly doo, did you find me?” Yep, real strong

words.

“It wasn’t easy; the hospital wouldn’t say where you went, but some nurse remembered this job and suggested you might be here, and once here, it wasn’t too hard to find where you were staying. A young nurse mentioned this place, and after knocking on a few doors, here I am. Can I come in?” My ex thought he could show up. I looked behind him to see my ex–girlfriend and step–brother, all of whom looked smug. “No.” I slammed the door shut in his face and locked it.

• Chapter 35-

Claim

“Don’t be like this, sweetheart. Let us explain.” His voice came through the door. I moved a chair to the door and secured it under the doorknob, and turned to the radio and raised the volume, blocking out his

voice.

What do I do?

Gunner.

Would he come?

He might be busy with club duties.

Got to try.

Picking up my phone with shaking hands, I dialled his number, come on, come on, answer please, please, please. I have moved to the bathroom so I could hear over the music.

“Cora?” He answered on the fourth ring.

“They are here at my door, banging it down. I don’t want to see them. Can you come? I need help.”

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