Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 227

Cloe POV

The doctor had just been, and I can leave the hospital. Dotty lives on the property where Storms lives, and apparently, I am sharing his bedroom. I am unsure about that, like I know he saved my life and everything, but isn’t hopping into bed with him a bit fast, and what about my stumps, if he rolls over and kicks them, I am worried, this sounded so out of my control, just like my whole life had been. Do this, do that, no choices, just do, and hope for a reward, like getting to eat today.

Fixer was here, sorting out my belongings, packing them up, while Storm did the same with his. Men came and went, taking the mountain of flowers and balloons away. Fixer had asked if I wanted them all in my room or if I wanted to give some away to patients on this floor. I was more than happy for them to share the flowers and the balloon. They would keep a few for home, but the majority would be shared. copied from j:o:bn;ib>c;omA wheelchair arrived, and Dotty gave Tank last-minute instructions to follow until she started her time as my nurse when she finishes her shift here. He had a full schedule in his hand. Medications in a bag, and all I could do was sit and wait to be told what to do next. It was my life, waiting to be ordered about, as if I were a nobody with no control over my life. I feel like I am thinking the same thing over and over again. Fixer had helped change me out of my PJs and into a shirt and tracksuit pants, hiding my stumps; I was not ready for the world to see them. Once in the wheelchair, Storm carefully laid a blanket over my lap, covering what I was missing, tucking the edges in, and making it look normal. Which helped to hide my loss, and it made me feel a little better.

Several staff came to see me leave, wishing me well. A row of staff clapped as I was wheeled down the hall, making me emotional, and gave a heart shape with my hands as a thank-you for their care. At the hospital exit, a photographer was waiting and took my photo as Storm wheeled me out. Guards came out of nowhere and blocked me from the man, but he got what he wanted: a picture of me, leaving the hospital. I must have been the morbid talk of the town.

“Sorry, boss, didn’t think they were here for Cloe, will do better.” A man spoke quietly to Tank and Fixer. I looked up at Storm, and his face was fixed on searching the car park, guessing that more would pop out and take pictures. For someone who was used to being invisible, having my picture taken like a celebrity was a little surprising. I couldn’t get my hand up fast enough to stop the picture and the questions he shouted out as the guards moved him along.

Tank stopped and talked to the man, showing him the pictures on his camera. Not sure what they planned. I was moving fast and out of sight, and I didn’t see what happened after that.

A large vehicle arrived, and Storm lifted me out of the wheelchair, placed me on the back seat, leaned in, snapped the seat belt in place, and covered my stumps with a soft blanket. It was grey, with swirls of color through it. The wheelchair was gone by the time Storm had finished. He climbed in the other side and looked at me, a large smile on his face.

“Ready?” He asked, searching my face for something. I nodded. What else could I say? No? What would that gain me? Story of my life, go with the flow, and hope it works out in the end.

The trip didn’t take long; we seemed to be heading away from the main part of town, then turned into a small entry, and Tank put his hand on a sensor pad, and the gate opened. We drove up the drive, the garden pristine, the house, wow, that’s not a house, that’s a mansion, it was huge, I have never been to a house so big before. We ended up at the back and stopped at a pathway. Storm climbed out and came around, unbuckling me and gathering me in his arms. I felt like a child in his large frame; he didn’t even grunt as he picked me up. Did losing legs remove that much weight? Nope, not getting on scales, the nurse at school always said I was undernourished and should eat more, but in my house, that was easier said than done.

School? I just finished my first year of college, online, in secret. Dad would never let me progress to college or university; that was for my sister, but she was too dumb to pass high school, and so Dad hid it behind her beauty and the cars. I need access to a computer before I start to fall behind.

We entered the house and, down a small entryway, the place opened into a bright, large room. Storm started moving from one room to another as he explained each, giving me the grand tour, so to speak. He did the walking, and I did the looking around, craning my neck to see everything, but moving too fast to see all the pictures on the walls and other points of interest.

“This is the lounge room, where most of us end up in the evening.” He walked through a passageway.

“The kitchen.” I was huge, like mega-huge, two massive fridges, a breakfast bar, and every appliance you could think of.

He turned and went into a room attached to the kitchen.

“I will hold you up, and you pull your pants down.” As embarrassing as that was, I couldn’t see him leaving me here to struggle, so I did as asked, pulled them down, and he lowered me onto the seat. Here I got to see a close-up of my stumps, black and blue, and swollen. The bandage hid the end, but the thighs and knees were badly bruised, and I’m told it will take a while for that swelling to disappear from my stumps. That would be when they can start measuring my legs.

I did the best I could. I understand it will take a while. I keep looking down, expecting to see my legs still there.

“Storm?” He turned back to me, having turned to face the door and given me privacy once I was seated, and he felt I was safe there. You don’t realise how much you use your legs for balance. This wasn’t as easy to do as it sounded. He lifted me and let me work on getting my pants back up.

“Um, I think I am going to need your help. I can’t do it.” I had my pants up, but stuck, think I got them twisted, and couldn’t see to work out what I had done. He carried me to the bed, laid me down, and fixed my track pants and panties. I was sure I was bright red as he concentrated on his task. He pulled up the coverings, kissed me on the cheek, and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Before I could think much about today and all I had been told, sleep claimed me.