Haunting Memories

Maeve's P.O.V.

"Come on, you promised you'd sit with me while Cian finished our project."

Kaelen’s whine cut through the low, thumping bass and chaotic chatter of the Crimson's Fire Riders MC clubhouse. He tugged at the sleeve of my oversized flannel, planting his boots into the scuffed hardwood floor and leaning his weight back like a stubborn toddler trying to drag me down the hall toward the computer lab.

"I know, but Declan just asked me if I could meet him in the library really quickly," I said. I bit my lip to keep from laughing at the dramatic, exaggerated pout forming on Kaelen's face. "I'll only be a minute. I swear."

"Oh, please. Declan is going to keep you the whole time," Kaelen sulked, dropping my sleeve to cross his arms over his chest.

"I won't let him," I countered, though my reassurance clearly did nothing to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

"What if I just go with you?" he suggested, rolling his shoulders in a casual shrug that didn't match the intense focus in his eyes.

"That would leave Cian all alone in the lab, and you know I hate doing that," I said, pointing a finger at his chest.

"You only hate it because he hacks into your socials every time you dare to give us more attention than him," Kaelen teased, a wicked grin replacing his pout.

"Yeah, and last time he did it, he posted a ton of embarrassing pictures of me," I groaned, throwing my head back with a laugh. "The ones where I was looking down at my phone. The double chins... God, I was so hideous."

Kaelen laughed, a deep, raspy sound that echoed off the paneled walls of the hallway. But as the sound faded, the air between us shifted. He stepped closer, invading my personal space the way he always did, but this time felt different. He reached up, his warm, calloused palm cupping the side of my face. His thumb brushed slowly across my chin, tracing the curve of my jawline.

My laughter died instantly. I stared up at him, my breath catching in my throat. The playful banter evaporated, replaced by a thick, crackling electricity that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I stood frozen. I didn't want to pull away from his touch, but a sudden, unfamiliar flutter of fear coiled in my stomach.

"Double chins... Hideous," Kaelen scoffed softly, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper. "Would it make you feel better to know that I jerked off to those pictures?"

Heat exploded across my cheeks, a wild rush of embarrassment and shock pooling heavy in my belly.

"W-what?" I stuttered, my voice barely a squeak.

Kaelen didn't blink. He wasn't phased in the slightest by his own confession.

"It was real. It was raw. It was unfiltered you," he murmured, his thumb stroking my skin again. "And nothing gets me going more than you, Sugar. At any angle."

My mind spun, trying to process the staggering boldness of his words. He had to be joking. We had been friends practically our whole lives. Ever since the first day of fourth grade, when my family moved in the middle of the year and I was the lonely new girl on the playground. Kaelen had stepped in when some older boys were pushing me around. He threatened them, grabbed my hand, and dragged me inside to meet his friends. The six of us had been inseparable ever since.

I knew we were older now. I knew the environment we were raised in. The Crimson's Fire Riders MC wasn't a playground. It was a world of hard-partying, rough-talking bikers. I spent so much time in this clubhouse it was my second home. I knew they shielded me from the darker reality of club life, but the crude, unfiltered way they spoke always bled through. Even so, this was the most explicit, direct thing Kaelen had ever said to me.

"Did I break you?" Kaelen teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as I stood there staring at him like a total idiot, my face burning up.

"Break her? That's my job, isn't it?"

A deep, rumbling voice echoed from behind me, and I groaned. I didn't even get the chance to turn around or plan an escape route before Grayson’s massive frame materialized at my back. He slung a heavy, muscular arm around my shoulders, anchoring me against his side. Kaelen smiled, the sexual tension breaking instantly as he reached out to fist-bump our towering friend.

"You'd never break Mae and you know it," Kaelen told him, shooting me a quick, conspiratorial wink.

"You have no idea how much I want to," Grayson muttered, his grip on my shoulder tightening just a fraction.

I tilted my head back to scowl up at him. Grayson played the part of a giant, ruthless bully to perfection. He was rude, abrasive, and imposing. But beneath that massive, terrifying exterior beat a kind, fiercely protective heart. You just had to dig through layers of pure sass and intimidation to find it.

"Anyway," Grayson continued, ignoring my glare and staring straight at Kaelen. "What are you guys doing out here in the hall?"

"Well, Honey here thinks she's going to meet Declan all alone in the library," Kaelen told him, his tone turning mock-serious. "I told her that I should come with."

"Oh, definitely," Grayson agreed without hesitation. He spun us around, his heavy arm acting as a steering wheel as he marched me in the direction of the library. "Let's all go have a little bit of fun."

Kaelen fell into step on my other side immediately. He walked so close that the knuckles of his hand brushed against mine with every stride. I glanced sideways at him, and he flashed me another knowing wink. My face flushed with renewed heat, and I quickly averted my eyes, staring blankly at the floorboards ahead.

"So," Kaelen said casually over the noise of the clubhouse. "Want to come to the party tonight—"

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

The shrill, piercing electronic scream of my alarm clock shattered the clubhouse walls. The scent of stale beer and leather vanished, replaced by the suffocating smell of damp plaster and cheap lavender soap.

I groaned, a raw, scratchy sound in the back of my throat, and threw my arm out from under the thin blanket to slam my palm against the top of the clock. The beeping died. Silence rushed into the cramped room, heavy and oppressive.

Rolling onto my back, I dragged my heavy eyelids open and stared up at the water-stained ceiling of my dingy apartment. The chipped paint flaked above my bed, a stark reminder of exactly where I was. I laid there, the phantom warmth of Grayson's heavy arm and the lingering friction of Kaelen's thumb fading from my skin, leaving behind a hollow, aching chill in my chest.

It had been years. Nearly a decade since I had seen any of those five boys. Yet the memory played in my mind with agonizing clarity, stealing the breath from my lungs.

Why did my brain insist on torturing me like this?

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the stinging burn of tears. I knew why. My time with those boys was the only period in my entire life when I felt truly happy. It was the only time I felt safe. Waking up from those sun-soaked memories into this bleak, isolated reality hurt just as much as waking up from the darkest night terrors.

I shook my head against the flat pillow, forcing the ghosts of my past back into their boxes. I couldn't afford to go down this mental spiral. Not first thing in the morning. Not ever.

Pushing the thin sheets aside, I dragged my exhausted body out of bed. The floorboards creaked under my bare feet, the cold seeping through my toes as I shuffled toward the tiny bathroom.

A soft, raspy meow broke the silence.

I glanced down to see Peanut winding his small, ink-black body around my shins. I crouched, running my hand over his sleek fur, feeling the steady rumble of his purr vibrating against my palm. I found him a year ago behind the local diner where I worked, a broken, terrified stray kitten licking out the remnants of a peanut butter jar near the dumpster. He was wounded and shaking, trusting no one. We were a matched set.

"Morning, buddy," I whispered, scratching him behind the ears.

Peanut was my only friend in the world now. The girls I worked with at the diner were decent enough, but I kept them at arm's length. I kept everyone at arm's length. After surviving unimaginable betrayal by the people I loved most, and the brutal abuse that followed, trust was a luxury I could no longer afford to buy. My isolation was absolute. It was lonely. It was a suffocating, silent kind of lonely that settled deep into my bones.

But as I stood up and looked around the tiny, run-down apartment, I wrapped my arms around my own torso. Lonely or not, I was finally free.

I stepped into the cramped bathroom and flipped the light switch. The harsh, fluorescent bulb flickered to life, illuminating the mirror above the chipped sink. I braced my hands on the porcelain edges and stared at my reflection.

Dark circles bruised the skin beneath my eyes. My eyelids were puffy and red. I had been crying in my sleep again. The realization made a bitter, self-deprecating laugh bubble up in my throat. Crying over a memory. Crying over ghosts.

But I wasn't just mourning the loss of five boys. I was mourning the naive, trusting thirteen-year-old girl who believed with her whole heart that those boys hung the stars in the sky.

The memory that woke me up hadn't just been a random Tuesday. That exact day at the clubhouse was the day we found out Kaelen’s family was moving away. The party he was trying to invite me to in the hallway turned out to be his family's going-away party. Kaelen hadn't even known himself until that night. His father, a core member of the MC and owner of a local gym, jumped at the chance to help open a new Crimson's Fire chapter in the heart of a major MMA state.

I stared at the running water in the sink, remembering how we spent that entire night tucked away in Lachlan's room. We were devastated. The six of us huddled together, crying, reminiscing, and making empty, desperate promises to never lose touch.

To this day, Kaelen remained the only one of the five I didn't resent. Even if he simply outgrew me, even if the distance made him forget the girl he promised to protect, he was never actively cruel. He never turned on me.

My life unraveled spectacularly after he left. My mother, deep in her own delusional world, started staying longer at the clubhouse. Then came the engagement. She married Talon, the club's intimidating enforcer. At thirteen, I thought moving in with Talon's son—one of my supposed best friends—would be the greatest thing in the world. I thought I was gaining a brother. I thought I was securing my place in their circle forever.

Instead, it marked the beginning of a living nightmare. The boys I trusted shifted. Personalities twisted. Scheming replaced loyalty. The very friends who swore to protect me became the architects of my misery, turning their backs and dealing betrayals so deep they fractured my soul.

I tore my gaze away from the mirror and reached into the shower stall, twisting the rusted metal dial as far as it would go. The pipes groaned before spitting out a stream of water. Steam began to billow over the top of the curtain, fogging the cold glass of the mirror.

I stripped off my sleep clothes and stepped under the spray. The water was scalding, biting into my skin like liquid fire. I hissed through my teeth but didn't back away. I wanted the heat. I needed the burn.

I grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed my arms, pressing hard enough to leave angry pink trails across my flesh. I scrubbed with a fierce, blinding determination. I was washing them away. All of them. I was shedding the ghosts of the motorcycle club. I was scrubbing away the lingering taint of my fake friends, the memory of my delusional mother, and the shadow of the sperm donor who abandoned me long before any of this started.

But most importantly, as I traced the raised, uneven ridges of the scars etched into my ribs and back, I washed away the lingering grip of my abusive husband.

I closed my eyes, tilting my head back to let the scalding water cascade over my face. They were all in the past. I was a ghost now, slipping through the cracks of the world, surviving on cash tips and sheer willpower. I would keep moving forward. I would stay hidden. And I would never let another person close enough to break me again.