Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 269

Cloe POV

Today was worrying, especially when I first arrived at Grams. The memories of my last visit, or more specifically, the shooting, the warm welcome, and staying indoors for the day, eased the tension I had been building. We played games, I painted her nails, brushed her hair, anything she wanted, keeping her content and happy. Her mind today was scattered, moments of clarity, but mainly Grams was back in her youth, talking about dances, and meeting her husband for the first time. Giggling like a schoolgirl’s crush, having forgotten she was actually married to the man.

“Jan? Can we have tea now?” I apparently looked like her old school friend, so while here, I was more often than not called Jan. It was easy to play along and give Grams what she needed.

By the time Gramps was back, Grams had gone for an afternoon nap, which so far lasted an hour. In that time, I read a family history book she left for me. It was interesting reading, and sometimes I wondered how accurate the family history was.

“How was she today, sweetie?” Gramps asked as we headed to the chopper. It was later than expected, but I was good with that. Made the day go fast.

“Living in the past, I am Jan, her best friend, and you were courting her.”

“That was a good time to be living in, we were both young, and the family responsibilty was still a distance away. Thank you for this. The doctors say her progression means it won’t be long now.” Gramps didn’t need to go into details; I knew exactly what he was saying.

“What about you, Gramps? Are you ready to say goodbye?”

“I won’t lie, I will miss her, but the woman I married, hot who she had become over the years,

Grams moving on, will be a relief in a lot of ways, and there are plenty here that will ensure I do not slump into too deep a grief. I have been talking to Fixer, and might move over to be with all of you for a while. Fixer doesn’t need to live in both homes and discussions on this one has been raised a few times. Could you live here? I know you had a scare, but it’s relatively safe; that’s the first breach of security we have ever had.”

“Don’t know about that, Gramps, where I end up hasn’t entered my mind, still need to work on my legs.”

“We have all you need here, too.”

“Let me think about it.” I was shocked he would want me to live here permanently. Like this place. was like a house from magazines, so many expensive things, here. I would be afraid to break stuff. Maybe he needs company, for when Grams passes on,

Back home, the place was quiet. I had no idea where everyone was. Taking the opportunity of an empty house, we are not really empty; staff are floating about. I moved upstairs to the bathroom, which had a large bath, and I was going to try to soak in it.

An hour later, my body pruned, I pulled the plug, and climbed out, slipping onto the floor, with a groan. The bath was so slippery, and there was nothing to grab hold of, when climbing out, the inevitable was bound to happen. Might ask Storm if there’s anything they can do to this bathroom to make it safer for me. I hadn’t realised how much used those handrails, till now. I managed to drag myself to the chair and climb on with some effort. It was frustrating, an hour of relaxing, lost in one stupid more to get out.

I want to scream and shout, how unfair it all was, but that won’t help anyone. It’s moments like this that make me depressed as I look at my stumps, the swelling still too bold, and it looks ugly. I thump my thighs in frustration, which does nothing more than make me sadder, and now my thighs hurt. I didn’t bother trying to reach my discarded clothes from off the floor; they seemed too far away for me to reach. The effort just felt too much. Dressed in only my towel, I wheeled myself back to my room, feeling disappointed with what I had done. It was stupid of me to try it.

I felt like I would never be able to do anything for myself again.

That was when the pity tears came.

“What happened? Did you fall?” Storm started checking for bruises, and I am sure there are some, but not where he was looking.

“A bit slippery, ended up on the floor, getting all dirty after a nice soak in the bath, ruining it.”

‘Humm.” Storm lifted me up, turned and laid me on the bed. I felt like a baby, being handled too easily, and the way I was pitying myself right now, that was the wrong thing to do, as it made me angrier, not at Storm but at me, and how I was feeling. How messed up was that?

Storm must have felt my mood swing because he backed up, hands raised in surrender, and sat in the chair, staring, waiting, or whatever. His face was sad. That made me feel even worse for making him upset.

“How did it go with Grandparents?” He started changing the subject away from why I was in the bath in the first place.

“Think Grams is in her last days, won’t be long, she was not eating well, having trouble swallowing, so liquids were her main source of nourishment, and even then she would dribble a lot of it out. Grams thought I was a girl named Jan back in her twenties. I found it hard to believe how fast she had declined since my last visit two weeks ago. It’s a waiting game now.” I was grateful for the change, taking me away from me and my pity moment, to one that will be very emotional sooner than many realise.

“Gramps will be out of misery soon, too, then. He has coped with this for years, admitted that the woman he fell in love with had been gone for a long time now, and only gets glimpses occasionally. Gramps once said he was hardening up his heart, for when she passes, although he lost her years ago, the physical side was still there, and he loves to see her getting all dressed up, and moving around the house.” I understood that. It was that way when mum died, and dad became what he became. I still had comfort knowing Dad was there, even though he was no longer there for me. It’s crazy, really, but that’s how the mind works; it remembers and, depending on the person, holds on to the good things rather than the bad, or, like a girl at school, holds on to all the bad things and forgets the good. Does that depict the type of person you are? I like to think I am optimistic, and not a pessimist.

What do they say, a half-full glass, or a half-empty glass, type of person?

“Will you let me help you get dressed? Dinner is ready downstairs.” Storm asked as he moved towards the closet to get me some fresh clothes.