Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 291

Tempest POV

The guilt was still there; what I do in my sleep was beyond my control. I loathe waking up and seeing what I had done to Storm. He never complains, but tries to soothe me some more and asks if I want to talk about it. I know Storm means well, but often talking is the last thing I want to do. If the nightmare lingers long enough, yeah, I can sometimes give him snippets of what the dream was about, but often it fades quickly, leaving me drained.

Washed up and stared at my reflection in the mirror of our bathroom. The girl in the mirror looks nothing like the one before the accident. That’s my life at the moment, before or after the accident. I had gained weight, not fat, but meat on my skinny bones; my cheeks had gained some dimples that I hadn’t seen in years, my eyes, although still looked haunted, left over from the nightmare, and were a little bloodshot. But no longer full of sadness and fear of what the day would bring. I was stronger, on the inside, more willing to fight for what was mine, instead of being an invisible maid for my father. My Father, I hope he rots in jail for a long time, and the inmates treat him like he treated me. This might not be a healthy thought, but an honest one. I love to hate him, but deep down, he was still my Dad, and I can still remember the Dad before the accident. I had dreamed of that man returning, but he never did, not even a hint of kindness to me, in a long time.

The guys were great; it was a good idea having them here. It has lifted Storm’s spirits, and together, working on the clubhouse, fresh eyes and ideas were flowing. The place was going to look fantastic once it’s done. More and more club members came forward, willing to help with the repairs. We had a lot of skilled workers right at our fingertips, the reason the place was in such bad condition was the money, the old Prez kept saying they had none. It never made sense to the members, but they could do little to refute it; they stopped doing the repairs and buying material from their own pockets, and many had been talking of leaving. Now, according to Jip, members who hadn’t been to the clubhouse in months are calling him, excited to get involved and put their hands up to help fix the place up quicker.

The therapist arrived with a trainee. When the therapist called to make time to come today, she asked if she could bring the trainee. I had no problems with that; we all got to learn sometimes, and give trainees an opportunity for hands-on experience.

“Tempest, good morning, I am Karen, we spoke on the phone, and this is Tracey. Dotty coming today?” I shook hands with both of them.

“No, something came up, and she couldn’t make it, but you have been updated according to Dotty.” I wheeled myself towards the gym, Karen walking beside me, Tracey behind. We entered the gym, and it was empty, as I expected. This gym was set up just for me, and I had used it when Grams was asleep, which Grams did more and more as her end time neared.

“This place had what we needed. I want to assess your strength today and give you a weekly work plan.”

Karen had me show her all my upper-body strength. I surprised her with what I could do. I might still look a bit on the skinny side and weak, but don’t let that fool you. I am not weak; I was never allowed to be.

“There’s not a lot other than keeping up the training that we need to work on, maybe more lower body strength, you are going to need your glutes and lower back, and thighs strengthened for when you get your prosthetics so that we will target those on our one-on-one, sessions, and you can continue with upper body when on your own.” Karen had her tablet out and was making notes. I moved with Tracey to the bench, where she strapped my thighs into a harness. I would be pulling weights.

“Twenty reps, then stop, count to thirty and go again,” Tracey ordered in a shy, quiet voice.

After that, they sat me on a bike, my knees attached to a harness, and I rode the bike, like I had feet, the machine did the riding, and I didn’t need to put any pressure on, just getting used to the new sensation of riding the bike. It was hard sitting there, my thighs going up and down. I felt it in my butt; it hadn’t had any real exercise since the accident, except in bed, and that’s not the same as this kind of exercise.

I was exhausted by the time Tracey helped me off the bike and into the hot tub.

“You have done better than I had expected. You are a fit woman, not letting the loss of your legs reduce you to a wheelchair. Next visit, we can get right into proper training.” What? Wasn’t this training proper? I didn’t get what Karen meant.

Soon, I was out of the hot tub and on the bench. Tracey is giving my thighs a massage.

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