Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 229

Cloe POV

Storm wasn’t here when I woke up. The room was in semi-darkness because the curtains were closed, and I got the feeling it was early evening. I have slept well; the lack of noise was a bonus. Better than in the hospital.

I managed to sit up and look around. This room is nice, not at all like my brother’s was, no posters on the wall, no dark-colored curtains or coverings. I liked it, a few things I would add, to make it more homely, it’s good for a boy’s or, should I say, a man’s room.

Shimmied over to reach the water, so grateful he thought of that, Storm’s a kind person, thoughtful, caring. Drank a whole glass, and was in the process of drinking a second, when Storm entered the room pushing a wheelchair, loaded with food and drinks.

I tried, I really did, but once I had my pants down, no matter what I did, I could spread my legs enough to move over to the seat, and had no choice but to become humble and ask for help. As frustrating as that sounds, Storm was a gentleman, helping me across and then helping me get dressed again. He didn’t make me feel ashamed or dirty for asking for help; if anything, he made it feel like he was pleased that I asked, that he wanted to do it.

Storm walked beside me as I wheeled the chair to the stairs. It was not as difficult as I had expected. The carpet I thought would slow me down, but my arm muscles had no trouble pushing the wheels, keeping it moving. When we reached the stairs, I was concerned, like, how do I wheel it down there? That’s a lot of stairs to manage.

“Dad’s putting in a chair lift on this wall so that you can go up and down with ease. You leave your chair here, push a button, and it takes you down, and another chair will be waiting downstairs.” He picked me up and carried me downstairs, where another chair was waiting. I had expected him to lower me down into it; instead, he walked past the chair and down the hallway into the dining room, which was full of people, young and old.

Storm walked to a chair and sat down, keeping me on his lap. When I looked around the table, Fixer was on Tank’s lap, and the other ladies were sitting on men’s laps, as if this were common here.

“Hey, let’s give you introductions, shall we?” They went around the table, each woman giving me her name and the name of the man whose lap she was sitting on, and those who weren’t paired up, like Penny, were sons, daughters, or family. Like the eldest in the room, Uncle Simon, who prefers to be called that, or plain Simon if calling him uncle feels wrong. I have never seen so many people at one table, and I found out that most are either related or live here, and that two were guards. Apparently, they get to take turns on which guard gets to grace the table, something that Fixer started many years ago, and the guards have a roster set up, so they all get a turn to be at the boss’s table. I haven’t a clue who the boss was; I assumed it was Uncle Simon, but I can’t be sure.

The meal was simple: some spaghetti, and according to Storm, Uncle Simon’s famous homemade tomato

sauce, homemade garlic bread, and assorted salads, most of the vegetables grown in the vegetable patch at the back of the house. One of the ladies was proud of her vegetable and herb garden and had a greenhouse for more exotic vegetables and fruits. She gloated about expanding soon, but Fixer gave her this look that said it was the first she had heard of it and that she would talk later. I know that look; I got it often from my Dad when I did something he wasn’t keen on.

“That was fantastic, thank you, better than a restaurant.” Thanked the table, since I wasn’t sure who to thank; it sounded like a group achievement.

“We do have a cook, but she wanted a week off, so we are fending for ourselves. Do you like to cook?” Screech asked, looking at me with hope in her eyes.

“I don’t know if I would call it like, I cook because it was a chore I had to do,” I replied as honestly as I could. I got the impression that lying in this house would not go down well, and carefully chosen words to evade an out-and-out lie were better.

“You rinse the dishes, and I can load the dishwasher,” I replied, wheeling myself to the machine in question and pulling it open. It will take a bit to learn how to do this, but I won’t let the machine beat me. Storm handed me a dish, and I leaned into the far back and put it in, finding the armrest in the way. I fiddled with it until it lowered, as Storm showed me, and filling the dishwasher without the arm in the way was easier. We worked well as a team. At one point, Fixer and Tank came to the door, watched us, then left. Did they think I couldn’t do it? Yeah, I just got out of the hospital, but if I were at home, Dad would expect me to do this. I am not in pain, not like times at home, so why not help out? I’ve got to learn sooner or later.

“It’s full,” I called out, and Storm came over, checked it, shut the door, started it up, then pulled open a

second dishwasher. My mouth dropped open. I don’t know of any other house that has two dishwashers. We continued until he ran out of dishes, and then he started that machine; he didn’t have pots to do, as the person cooking cleaned the pots straight away. But he did have some large serving trays and other items that don’t go into the dishwasher to finish off. He handed me a cloth to dry the items, and told me to put them on the counter; he would put them away. Believe it or not, I enjoyed working in the kitchen with Storm; at home, I did all this on my own. I felt satisfied that I could still be useful, even in the kitchen.

“Done, come on, let’s see what’s going on in the lounge room, hopefully not some chick flick, I remember whose turn it is to choose today’s movie. Just not mine.” He pushed me to the lounge room, where everyone was already seated. Storm picked me up, left the chair by the door, out of anyone’s way, and carried me to a chair, where he carefully sat down, and let me get settled on his lap, before placing a blanket over our lap.

“Cloe, time for your medication.” Fixer came to me with a small cup with four pills in it and a glass of water. I took them, with no hesitation. I knew I had to have antibiotics.

The movie didn’t interest me, it was background, noise, more interested in watching the interplay in the room, they got on so well, there were no nasty comments, no nasty looks or vicious threats, everything said in fun, and taken in the jest it was given. I have never seen so many people in one room all enjoying each other’s company as these people did. This was what a real family should look like. I thought. I will enjoy what time I have with them, for as long as they let me stay. I vowed to myself.