The Biker's Fate Chapter 572

Daisy

TEAGAN'S 'WE' CONSISTED of her sisters Harper and Huxley, and their brother Grayson. Also, Cambry and her brother, Jagger, were there, along with Harm's bonus kids, Briggs and Baylor. Hawk's other son, Hunter, had joined the fray (Case was glaringly absent), and Maverick and Lily's daughter, Charleston. Everyone was already spread out over three lanes as they chose balls and put on shoes, so we joined them, and once I'd introduced Huck and Louisa to everyone they didn't already know, we picked a lane and entered our names into the system.

Huck had failed to mention he was a pin shark, so by the time it was my turn again, my score was abysmal.

"Just tell everyone you played par, Ducky," Charley joked.

Charleston was also an amazing bowler (curse her to hell), but she was also sweet and funny and one of my best friends so I couldn't hate her for it. I grinned, flipping her off before stepping up to the line.

Huck sidled up to me with a grin and crossed his arms. "Want some pointers?"

"Oh my god, absolutely," I breathed out. "Why didn't you ask five frames ago?"

"First of all, I didn't want you to know how good I was in case I decided to hustle you."

"So does this mean I'm safe, Fast Eddie?"

"Ish?" He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm not gonna show you all my secret moves."

"How very disappointing to hear that," I retorted.

"Also," he said, getting us back on track, "I figured if you wanted help, you'd ask for it."

"That is very true." I leaned in closer and whispered, "But you need to know something about me and take it to heart."

He raised an eyebrow. "Tell me."

"I never ask for help. It's one of my red flags. You have to learn to read my mind, but if you try to help me do it when I'm not ready, I'll bite your head off, so you have to navigate a teeny-weeny emotional minefield on occasion." I bit my lip. "You're welcome?"

"Thank you for the heads up." Huck laughed. "First we need to get you into a heavier ball."

"Oh, but I like this one," I whined. "It's pink."

"Color doesn't knock pins down. Mass at an accelerated rate does," he explained. "You need more mass."

"Ahh, the words every woman dreams to hear from a man."

"Are you going to be this difficult for the entire lesson?"

"Yes, but I'm adorable when I'm obstinate, so I have that going for me."

"Here," he said, holding out a standard-issue, black bowling ball. "Put your fingers in the holes."

"Ahh, the words every woman—"

"Just see if the ball fits."

I rolled my eyes, slipping my fingers into the hole. "They fit, but, Huck, it's ugly."

"It doesn't matter. It'll do the job," he said. "Now, the first thing you have to do is name your ball."

"What do you name something that looks like the first solid poop you make after being sick for three days? You know the kind of poop that makes you so concerned that you schedule an appointment with an oncologist?"

"Wouldn't you call a gastroenterologist?"

"Not if your poop looks like this." She nodded to the ball. "I think you go straight to a cancer diagnosis."

"Name it, Daisy," he growled, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

I cocked my head and studied the ball for a few more seconds, then said, "Mr. Bowl Movement."

"Jesus," he hissed. "Okay, great. Let it be written." He positioned himself behind me. "Now, with your stance."

"Wait a minute, is this just an elaborate ruse so you can pull your smooth guy moves on me?"

His eyebrows raised in question. "I have smooth guy moves?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, do you?"

"I promised I wasn't going to hustle you."

"That's just the kind of thing a hustler would say."

He mean-mugged me. "Face the pins, ma'am."

"Yes, sir."

"Stand here… on these dots," he said, pointing to the series of black dots on the floorboards. "Start with your feet together with the ball cradled in your left hand with your fingers firmly but not too tightly in the holes. You're going to start with the ball extended to your right side, so when you downswing, it clears your right leg."

"Oh sure, so easy."

"This is all going to feel awkward at first, but with a little practice you'll get it."

"I trust you," I said. "Sort of."

"Now, do you see those arrows out there."

I nodded.

"I want you to imagine rolling the ball right between the center arrow and the one to the right of it."

He continued his instructions until it was time for me to put his tutelage into action. Huck stood behind me to 'study my form,' so he said, and I confidently approached the line, released the ball, which promptly rolled straight and true… right into the gutter.

"Some coach you are," I grumbled, making my way back to Huck.

He continued to give me pointers and little by little, my game improved, until at last, I rolled my first strike.

"Oh my god, I made a bowl movement!" I shouted as I rushed back to Huck.

"Good thing, too," Huck said, hugging me. "I don't think they have Metamucil on tap at the bar."

After about an hour, I noticed Huck flop down in one of the chairs and rub his knee. I frowned, making my way to him while Louisa bowled, sitting across from him. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just twisted weird that last turn."

I frowned. "What can I do?"

"Nothing. I just gotta lay off it for a minute."

"Do you want me to roll your next frame?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

I grimaced. "Wow, you must be in pain if you're willing to let me abolish your streak."

He pressed his lips into a thin line and took a deep breath.

"Fuck," I hissed. "I have ibuprofen. Will that help?"

"Yeah, Daisy, that'll help."

I grabbed my bag and rifled through it, pulling out my pill bottle. "Baylor always has his vape and you know someone in the group will have edibles if you need something stronger. Probably Teagan." I sighed. "Don't tell her dad."

"Not a narc." He smiled. "Since I drove, let's start with the Advil."

"I can drive home, Huck." I rolled my eyes. "If you need the pot, I can get you the pot."

"I'm good." He popped the pills, downing them with a swig of beer, and I kissed his cheek before heading up to the line to bowl his frame.

I returned to find him leaning forward, squeezing his knee, his expression neutral, but his mouth was tight, and I could tell he was struggling to keep the strain off his face. I sighed, turning, and making my way over to Teagan.

"Hey, honey. Your score's improving," she said.

"Yeah, thanks, um, do you have your edibles with you?"

She frowned. "Does a bear shit in the woods? What do you need?"

"Not me," I admitted. "Huck."

"Oh, shit." She grabbed her purse and unzipped it. "His knee?"

"Yes," I whispered. "How'd you know?"

"I've seen the video."

"Video?"

She paused in her search for her gummies and asked, "You haven't seen the video?"

"What video?"

"The video that took him out of the game?"

"There's a video?" I squeaked.

"Yeah, Ducky, there's a video." She handed me a baggie of gummies, then grabbed her phone, pulling up the footage of the 'incident.'

As I watched it, I nearly threw up. Huck's lower leg basically went the opposite way that a leg should and the primal yell of pain as his body hit the ice was guttural, and heart wrenching.

It also wasn't an accident.

I swallowed several times and nodded. "Email that to me."

"Are you okay?"

"No," I rasped. "But email it to me, anyway." I met her eyes. "How strong are those?"

"Are those turtles?"

I looked down at the baggie. "Yep."

"Thirty milligrams. Keep the bag."

"Thanks." I nodded again and headed back to Huck. "Here, honey, please take one of these. They're thirty milligrams."

"You got two in there?"

"There's six."

"Let's start with two," he said, and I handed him the baggie.

I cupped his cheek. "Do you want to go?"

"No, I'm good, we'll just give it a few for this shit to kick in."

I gently tugged on his beard. "Don't be a hero."

"I won't."

"We're on the tenth frame now, so I'll roll yours, okay?"

He nodded, and I leaned down to kiss him gently before heading back to the line to bowl my turn, then his.