Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 353

Sprocket POV

I don’t mind admitting I was nervous about telling Skittles we were moving. I waited until the very last second, after she had announced that she loved the place. That was when I loaded her up with the why and what was planned for tomorrow onward, until we were satisfied that her mother was no longer a problem.

Skittles accepted what I said, with the grace I came to expect from her, like zero fuk for her mother, and more worried about Stinger than herself. Yep, that’s my girl, always caring for others. I was pleased that she wasn’t upset about the move or why we moved; she loved the cottage.

We are sitting at a table in the clubhouse, socializing with those around us. Sundays are usually quiet, no visitors, and those who partied hard last night are carrying a hammering hangover and don’t want a lot of loud noise.

“You start work at the hospital tomorrow?” Dizzy asked, as she peeled an orange.

“Yep, looking forward to meeting the crew and getting started on my studies. It will be a lot of

work, but I am up for the challenge.” Skittles was full of confidence. Something about her line of

work when she talks about it made her eyes pop, almost glow. She loves her job. I have some tiling jobs to complete, but I can drop her off and make sure I am done in time to pick her up.

“I am a teacher, and I find it challenging but enjoyable to see the changes in children from when they start school to the school year’s end. Some blossom, others work slowly, while some struggle completely. It’s sometimes hard to tell a parent that their child needs more help. Sometimes it’s the need for glasses or some physical reason, others, it’s because the child enjoys playing games on their phones or tablets and fails to hand in homework, or the child doesn’t have the time to do their homework, because when they get home, they have chores and get too exhausted to study. I get all sorts of excuses and reasons thrown at me. You name it, I probably heard it all before.” Dizzy was rabbiting on about school and kids in general, and it hurts her when a child she knows is intelligent and bright fails because of outside pressures. She’s as passionate about her students as Skittles is over her dead people; talk about opposite ends of the spectrum.

“We have the end of the month and tax time at my work as a bookkeeper. I am at a busy time of the month, when all the managers and directors are on my back to get their reports first. It’s physically impossible to give them all the reports at the same time.” It was Strike’s turn to complain about the pressures of work.

I wouldn’t start on mine, they wouldn’t get it, or would and laugh. My issues were usually the last–moment changes of tiles, or when you start, and they ask you to remove them, they changed their minds, and don’t want tiles on the floor, they’re going to carpet it instead. All your work is removed, and then you fight to get the bill paid because you brought the equipment and materials

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for the job, and the contract they signed said they would pay for any changes, including canceling the job if it had already been started.

But other than it being a gripping day, it was good to sit and talk. Tempest was there, Nugget on her lap. All my friends and their partners were there with us, enjoying a chat, till Skunk got a phone call.

“Hi, Dad.”

“When?”

“Do you need me to come?”

“Keep me informed.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Thanks for calling, Dad.”

“Love you too.”

“As you may have heard, that was Dad, Mum’s in hospital. Apparently, she had a partial stroke recently, and didn’t know it, and has just had a second one, a larger one, and is in the hospital. It’s bad, real bad. She lost the use of her left side, and Dad thinks she might not make it. He also believes her aggression lately could be a result of the first stroke. He said she had been in bed for a week, with dizziness and weakness, thought it was just a bug, or a reaction to the medication they had started her on for breast cancer and refused to go to the hospital to get checked out. Said she was a medic and that she knew it was nothing to worry about. They still need to operate on her breast, but don’t know when now; she needs a mastectomy, the whole breast removed. It was worse than what I had been told,” Skunk said methodically, hiding his emotions. He had to be hurting. This was his mum.

“She’s still too young,” Tempest said to no one in particular, and to all of us at the same time. “Not too young to have a stroke. I have seen teenagers and younger people have a stroke. A girl at our school had a year off school and came back in a wheelchair, because her whole left side was paralysed. I feel guilty for having a go at her now,” Skittles responded with care. A lot of us were shocked and wondering if we could have known.

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