Free Burnt by Natasha Thomas Page B

my back easily because I’m five foot one and weigh ninety-five pounds. Carbs are not my enemy. I’m hardly big. Shit. I’m barely normal sized.

    All of that was fine, and honestly what I expected coming from her. There were times when I swear I could see smoke coming from dad or uncle Pipe’s ears, but a small head shake from me, or little smile was usually enough to put the fire out. Mom was civil even though it took extreme effort for her to do so. Declan kept his mouth shut, and refused to comment or stick up for me. That too was to be expected. The things that hurt the most. The things that burnt were the ones that hinted at Declan and my friendship. The previous one. We don’t even have that anymore. Isabella said things like, ‘I wish you were as happy as Declan and I are’. Or, ‘I hope you get someone as wonderful as I have’. She was snide. She was catty, and I really wanted to punch her in the throat.

    These comments were always followed up with a kiss to Declan’s jaw, which was clenched mind you, or Isabella stroking his arm or neck. There were times Declan would look at me his eyes so pained that I hurt for him. I shouldn’t have, but I did. It was almost as if he was pleading for me to help him. When I considered speaking up, it was always headed off with Declan kissing Isabella lightly, or stroking her belly where their baby grew. I know he saw me see him do it. It was just another slap in the face, but again I was set aflame. Stupid, stupid me. I should know better by now.

    My dad used to tell me when I was little, that anything I dream of I can make happen. Back then I used to giggle, pinch his cheeks, and tell him he was silly because I dream of unicorns and I can’t make them appear. Uncle Pipe would kiss my head while he thought I was sleeping and tell me to ‘Dream big’. Mom lectured me about never giving up on my dreams, and Dec? Well Dec IS my dream, so in a roundabout way I never did give up my dream because I’ve never given up on Dec. It would have been easy to. He made it easy for me to write him off. I didn’t though. I couldn’t.

    Standing I stretch out my back to relieve some of the ache, and kiss Uncle Vic on the cheek
    “Okay Uncle Vic you get a short reprieve from the torture big man. I have to go get Princess Lexi from nursery. I’ll be back in half so don’t go anywhere.”

    I swear I hear him basically sob with joy.
    “If you weren’t so fucking magic at your job sweetheart I’d have to kill ya.”

    Laughing at his idol threat I pat his shoulder and remove my ink stained gloves “And I believe you would too Uncle Vic. Clean up the language when I get back with Lexi though okay? Or you boys will have big bad Declan to deal with if his little girl goes home saying ‘Fuck you motherfucker’.

    Uncle Vic and Uncle Max both chuckle. Uncle Max just says,
    “Truth Kenny, truth.” That’s my Uncle Max for you. He’s a man of many words. Giving him a big smacking kiss, I shoot a wave over my shoulder as I head out to pick up Lexi.

    I know it’s probably sacrilege being a biker brat, and driving a cage, that’s a car for laymen, but my cage is not a prison like the guys believe they are. My cage is my baby. I drive a fully optioned six speed manual Camaro with nose cone, and twin racing stripes. And yep. It’s Yellow and his racing stripes are black. I’m sure I don’t need to give you more than one guess to figure out that my favourite movie is Transformers, and I may possibly have named my car after Bumblebee. As long as I can remember wanting to drive, so let’s say about six years, I’ve wanted this exact car. Sure, it just happens to be when Bumblebee made his large screen debut in the remake of the Transformer comics, but hey that was totally a coincidence. Not. Declan had taken me to see the movie when it first came out, and I promised myself right then and there that when I started working with uncle Max and made enough money, I would buy myself my