The Outcast MC - Reaper # 1

Chapter 9

A nurse pushes me in a wheelchair towards the exit. I hold onto my discharge papers, invoice, and aonce I make photocopies, I'll shove it down the throat of each of those bitches. As we reach the hospital entrance, I feel a bit foolish sitting there in a wheelchair. Thankfully, the weather is pleasant, not too cold or windy.

I reach for my phone in my bag, intending to call a taxi to take me to the bookstore and retrieve my car. However, my phone slips from my grasp and falls to the ground. Frustration builds within me, but I can't bend over to pick it up. I resist the urge to smash it against the nearby wall. Crying isn't something I do often, except when I'm alone and indulging in something that appeals to my feminine side, like a heartfelt story or a movie.

"Let me help you," I hear a voice say, and I see a mass of chestnut hair tinged with red. "There you go. Is someone coming to pick you up?"

"No, Paige. I don't know anyone here. I've only been in town for less than two weeks."

"So you're Miss Popularity. Did you call a taxi? No, of course not. Come on, let's go," she says, pushing my wheelchair towards the parking lot before helping me into her car. I watch as she returns the wheelchair and quickly returns to the car.

"So, where are we going?" she asks, and I provide her with the address, which she enters into her GPS before starting the car.

I feel a sudden wave of intimidation and find myself at a loss for sharp retorts. I decide to remain silent instead.

"So, where are you from?" she finally breaks the silence, attempting to fill the void.

"Texas. I needed a change of scenery, so I thought, why not North Carolina? I do have some regrets, though not entirely," I reply, my words trailing off.

"What field do you work in?" she asks, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Restaurant," I respond.

"Ah, are you a chef? That's interesting," she remarks.

"No, just a waitress," I say, feeling a tinge of self-consciousness.

"Physical work isn't for everyone. It requires coordination and a good memory. It's an honorable job," she compliments, and I can't help but feel a flutter in my chest.

I'm falling for her.

"The bookstore is over there on your left. My car is a blue SUV... well, where is it?" I ask, realizing that my car is missing from the parking lot.

"Stay here. I'll go find out from the bookseller," she says as she gets out of the car. It takes her less than two minutes to return.

As she settles back into the car and buckles up, she informs me, "The police towed it away."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "And how am I supposed to get home? Do I have to pay to get my car back from the impound? Seriously?"

"Here, the bookseller gave me your book," she says, handing it to me. I blush and see her smile.

"It's a lovely romance," I awkwardly try to justify my choice.

"Come on, give me your address. I'll take you back. I need to go home and rest. I've been on call for twenty-four hours," she says, showing signs of exhaustion. I can't help but feel angry with myself because I'm causing her to miss out on her much-needed rest. Maybe she really does have a husband and children waiting for her, and it's because of me that she can't spend time with them.

"It's the house on the left. I rent the apartment on the right side," I inform her as we approach my place.

"It's cute," she comments, and my heart skips a beat.