Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 270

Storm POV

After lunch, as a family we headed into town, family meaning Mum, Dad, Penny, Razor, lil Simon and me, the rest were out for the day doing what they chose to do today, not interested in window shopping, we were surprised when Mum agreed with Penny to go, Mum hates window shopping, she would rather sweep out the large shed, or mow the lawns than shop.

We went window shopping, talking about changes we were making around the house, to improve it for Cloe, it was not till now, that mum started to think of making the house more disable friendly, we all had time where we had been stuck in a wheelchair, but it was temporary, and didn’t see the need to make any great changes. Unlike Gramps home, which was already catered for

wheelchairs, having had an aunt years ago, wheelchair bound for her last ten years of life. That led the family to make big changes in the home.

“Mum, can we go to the movies? There’s that movie I want to watch now.” That was how we ended up, in the cinema watching some anime movie that Penny was hooked on. It was followed by a second one, and we stayed for both. It wasn’t till we left the cinema that we noticed how late it was, the sun had set, and it was past dinner time.

Cloe would be home alone.

That scared me the most, that Cloe would have come home to an empty house. What would she do? Would she worry about us and where we were? I looked at my phone as we piled into the vehicles. Cloe hadn’t texted or called me. That worried me even more. Was she okay? Had Cloe come back? Maybe she would stay the night at Gramps.

“What’s wrong, Storm?” Dad asked, glancing over at me.

“Cloe would be home alone.” I didn’t need to say any more; that was enough.

The house felt empty.

The staff didn’t know where she was, but she had returned home.

I searched each room downstairs, taking long, swift strides, eating up the ground, as I hunted down the rooms I knew she frequented, then raced upstairs, three at a time, and pushed the bedroom door wide open, with so much force that hit the wall, with a loud crack; and there, slumped, and wrapped in a wet towel, looking sad, lost and defeated, was Cloe. My heart was thumping faster as I took her in.

What I hadn’t expected was the tears.

Did something happen with Grams?

Did they have a fight?

Cloe stiffened in my arms when I lifted her to the bed, which she rarely does, her tears flowing down her cheeks. I waited for them to abate. I placed her on the bed and took a step back, worried I had hurt her in some way. After some questions, I worked out that she had fallen, and it hurt her pride. I had wondered when this would happen. Cloe had been too accepting of all that had happened. I was warned that sooner or later, she would have a meltdown, and taking a bath and slipping on climbing out broke the dam that had been building.

At last, we were downstairs, joining the family plus some, in the dining room. It was not unusual to have extras. Mum loves to have staff join in the meals, never the same one in a row, except Dirk, who was more family now than any of the staff. Meal time was always busy, food a plenty, and the conversation was light, mum doesn’t like work discussed till after dessert, if we need to talk, and after the staff have finished and left the table.

“How was Grams today?” Dad asked, and was instantly sorry he asked.

“What the? Cloe, was that from the bathroom?” I asked, rushing over to get a better look at her. back.

“Yes, it’s okay.” I ran my fingers over the bruise, probing for any internal damage, then pulled out the first-aid kit and rubbed in some cream to bring the bruising to the surface and help it heal more quickly.

“It’s not okay, let me help. Please.” I pleaded; it was like fighting back the sun from rising. When Cloe puts her foot down, it’s hard to move her, and yes, I know she has no feet; it’s a saying I couldn’t think of a better word for. Cloe can be as stubborn as a mule, if not more so.

“It was just a bath. If you fix a handrail or something so I can climb out when slippery, it wouldn’t happen.” Somehow I knew she was throwing it back at me, her need to be independent, and prove to herself she was strong and could manage on her own, was strong.

“Babe, please, let me help. Yes, I can get that bathroom fitted with handrails, but I feel the need to help you as much as you want to do it all yourself. Can we find a compromise?” It felt like a rejection. I know that was wrong; it shouldn’t feel that way, but it does.

“Guess so, like you already carry me around, is that hot enough?” Cloe huffed and tugged on a nightshirt.

“No, I want to do more, especially in the bathroom, where even able-footed people slip and fall,” I argued, and the look on her face showed me she was at least thinking about it.

I climbed in behind Cloe, who had turned her back to me. I guess she was still holding back; I had thought we had moved forward, but now we had gone two steps back. I gently snaked my arms around her body and pulled her to me. I wasn’t going to let this night finish on a negative note. Dad’s advice to me, when I took Cloe to my room at the very beginning, was to never go to sleep angry with your woman, or her in tears, or it will fester and be twice as bad in the morning.

“Cloe, forgive me. I am trying.” I whispered, hoping to get a positive reply, but I got a huff and a grunt before sleep claimed her. I guess that’s the best I am going to get tonight.