Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 232

Storm POV

The night was great as I cuddled Cloe, and when she moved, I thought she was rolling over, so I let her go, thinking she was getting into another position, as she had done on and off through the night. I had no clue she was going to try to climb out of bed. I have never been so scared in all my life, as she hit the floor and gave out a blood-curdling scream, worse than the one that had woken me up last night, and the thud as she hit the floor, I was by her side in an instant, pulled her to my lap, and reached up, for my phone from the bedside table.

Dotty, I needed Dotty. I thought as I looked at her stumps. Blood, so much blood, seeping out of her bandages. I rocked her back and forth, guilt flowing through me for not thinking when she threw the blankets off. I shouldn’t have let her go.

Dotty was here quickly, still in her pajamas. We must have woken her up again; it was still early, too early for our house to be waking. Not that six was too early; some had work and plans, where I didn’t and had planned to sleep beside Cloe for at least another hour. Dotty unravelled Cloe’s bandages, revealing the extent of her injuries. Bad! It was very bad; her stitches burst, and her wound was gaping.

Emotions threatened to burst out of me at the sight of the damage. I should have held onto her, not let her move, and the last thing Cloe needed was me emotional; she was crying, shaking, this had rattled her.

The doctor arrived and slowly pieced her back together again. He did neat stitching, better than the doctor in the theater, and whatever he gave her stopped her tears. Now it was just the two of us, and I felt lost, not sure what to say or do, how to tread lightly over what just happened. My bladder said it needed attention, and that made me think Cloe would need the bathroom too; it might have been where she had intended to walk. I placed her on the bed, carefully, concerned I would cause her more pain, and moved to get the wheelchair.

But Cloe didn’t want the wheelchair; she wanted me to be her legs, and I would be only too happy to carry Cloe around all day, if it eased my guilt. I helped as much as I could, then moved her back to the bedroom and left her in the wheelchair, thinking she would get dressed while I was in the bathroom. Yet when I returned, she hadn’t moved at all.

‘Babe?” I moved to her and squatted down.

“I am too shaky, can you help me?” My poor love was in shock.

“Of course, let me get dressed, and I will help you.” I quickly changed and moved to Cloe.

“What would you like to wear today?” I pushed her into the walk-in robe as I asked the question.

“Track pants and a t-shirt.” I pulled out different-colored ones to show her, until she chose a brown one. I dressed her slowly, not wanting to make any sudden moves.

When done, I helped brush her hair and put it in a ponytail. Before pushing her down the hall and to the stairs, where I collected her in my arms, and noted that she was still shaking. We entered the dining room, which was already busy, family members grabbing a quick bite before rushing out the door for work or school. Razor, Penny, and little Simon were all still at school. We have guards that drive them to school, but Mum has never allowed us to catch the bus. It’s usually full of children from the club. When I got my bike licence, I rode to school myself.

“Morning, didn’t expect to see you up so early,” Penny called out as we entered.

“Was hoping to see if Fixer had time to show me some bikes and a possible training session,” Cloe answered,” Guess working on the assignment won’t be happening today.

“Mum would love that, she always said the painting side was a hobby, yet more often than not, she would be found in the painting booth.” Razor joked, and it appeared they didn’t know about this morning’s events, and I could tell Cloe was happier, although still shaking.

Cloe ate, but not as much as I had hoped, since I was starving. Cleaning a plate twice of bacon and eggs, before Dotty came walking in. She handed a cup with tablets in it, and Cloe downed them quickly, washing them down with a glass of water.

“Dotty, Cloe wants to do some painting. Is it safe to take her in there?” Mum looked between Dotty and Cloe, waiting to hear the answer.

“Your paint booth is fine, keep her clean. No sitting her on that floor. I will be out for a bit to restock supplies; I will be back by lunchtime. Anything you need from town?” Dotty informed us that, as she was making a plate of food, Grandpa Savage soon entered and joined the breakfast table; it was not uncommon to have them both at the table.

“No, we have been shopping, the kitchen staff will be back tomorrow, so who’s cooking tonight?” Tank called out before anyone else left.

“I can cook something.” Cloe lifted her hand like she was at school, as if needing permission or something.

“Great, none of us are fussy eaters, whatever you cook will be fine.” Somehow, I think I just gained kitchen duties again.

The kids disappeared fast, and the rest soon after, leaving us and Dotty, Mum, Dad, and Savage.

“Dotty tells me you had a fall today. Is there anything we can do to make it safer for you?” Savage looked earnestly at Cloe, his offer honest.

“No, Tank took measurements for a rail to go on the side of the bed. I forgot I didn’t have legs, and attempted to climb out, a rail will make me think, at least until the stumps heal.” Cloe was still shaking; she never stopped all through the meal.

“When was your birthday?”

“The Sunday of the show and shine.”

“Oh, belated birthday. Did you get some cake and have a party?” Cloe’s eyes lit up as we spoke. The shaking hadn’t eased, but she sounded a lot better. The distraction might have been the better move than lying down.

“Sure did, party was next door at the clubhouse, will give you a tour of that place, when you are up for it.” I happily pushed her to the garage, stopped in front of my bike, and let her look it over and touch it, with a huge smile on my face.

“I love the way that smoke blends in, and the wolf sort of looks like it’s breaking through.

Fixer’s work?”

“Yep.”

“She’s very talented.”

“Thank you.” Mum’s voice came from behind us.

“Want to see the paint booth and the area where I create these murals?”

“Please.” I pushed Cloe, while Mum walked beside her, explaining what we walked past, and as she spoke, I looked around. I had taken so much for granted, as it was always here, and if we wanted something, my parents made it happen. They are very generous like that. Not just money, but their time, and a helping hand, in all sorts of ventures. I have had a lucky life, some might say a silver spoon life, but Mum and Dad made sure we did chores to earn our keep, a lesson, Dad said, we all need to learn, the value of money, being given everything you ask for without doing something to earn, won’t help you when you grow up. He didn’t want any of us spoiled rotten by money; he wanted us spoiled rotten with love, patience, and togetherness.