Falling For The Biker - Chapter 93: Chapter 93

Sierra's POV
Arthur helped me down on my feet as we got to the house. The man on the porch holding a single rose with a wide smile stood up. Arthur helped me adjust my heels before rising.
“Sierra,” Richard called, walking towards us with a wide smile.
I returned it as much as I could through my drunken self. As he got closer, he frowned. “Are you drunk?” he asked, passing a glare to Arthur, but his gaze softened when it returned to me.
Arthur didn't let go. His hands firm on my waist — where I like it. I nodded like a child with a satisfied smile. I couldn't help it. He tried to take my hand, but Arthur held me back by the waist.
“Who is this?”
“Who is he?”
Arthur and Richard said simultaneously. I gestured for Richard. “Arthur, meet Richard. The lawyer that helped me with the divorce,”
Then I moved my fingers to Arthur. “Richard, this is Arthur. My brother's best friend,” I introduced.
“Nice to meet you,” Richard gave out his hand for a handshake, but Arthur did not move to take it.
He only stared at Richard, unblinking. Richard nervously took back his hand with a smile. “You didn't tell me you were coming. I didn't even know you knew this place,” I said, trying to ease the tension between the two men.
“Well, you didn't call to inform me you had gotten home safely, so I was worried. You had told me about this place in passing, so I found my way here,” he explained.
I didn't seem to recall informing him about Willow Creek. It didn't come up as a subject even in passing, but maybe I was too drunk to remember.
I nodded. “Well, you should have told me. I could have received you,” I said, and I felt Arthur's grip tighten around me.
I passed him a glance before returning my attention to Richard, who spoke. “Oh, it's no worries. I was able to get a little room in a hotel not too far. I got you this,” he said, handing me the single rose.
“Oh,” I said, taking the rose from. I took a sniff and gave Richard a smile. “Thank you,”
“I couldn't get a better gift, but I will tomorrow,” he said.
I hummed, nodding. Richard reached out, grabbing my arm to pull me off Arthur, but he couldn't. Richard smiled nervously, glancing at Arthur, who had an unreadable expression on his face.
“You shouldn't have drunk so much. You know you can't hold down your liquor,” Richard said.
“You've gotten drunk in front of him before?” Arthur asked, turning to me.
I waved my hands, dismissively. “It was one of those days. I didn't have anyone to call, so I called him to pick me up.”
Arthur then turned to Richard. “As you can see, she is drunk. She needs to rest. I'll take her in,” he said, guiding up the porch.
Before we could step into the house, Arthur pulled me in and kissed me — almost possessively. As much as I liked it, I wasn't sure why he was that way.
We pulled away, breathless. “That was nice,” I commented, walking into the house with Arthur still guiding me.
I wanted to see Elvis before going to bed, but I was too drunk and sleepy. I might fall in there. Holding on to Arthur, I walked up the stairs and finally into my room.
Plopping on my bed, I felt him take off my shoes before tucking me properly under the duvet. With a warm kiss on my forehead, he whispered, “Good night, Sierra,”
His words brought me comfort, and I shut my eyes falling into a sleep abyss. The morning shone on me, making me crease my brows. Slowly fluttering my eyes open, I stared at the clear sky.
I moved and my head felt like a truck rod into it. Pressing the sides of my head, I sat, hung over. I rubbed my head, regretting my decision to take those glasses of alcohol.
I grabbed my phone and found a text message from Eve earlier.
Christmas is over, my artist. Time to get to work. Show me what you got.
I sent her a melting sticker before shutting my phone and getting off the bed. I needed some lemon juice to get over myself. With a quick bath to wash off the stench of alcohol on me, I stepped out of the room.
I met Mum in the kitchen, the sizzling of the chicken on the hot oil was the most I could hear. “Morning Mum,” I greeted, walking over.
“Morning, sweetie,” Mum replied with a smile.
Mum sure was a morning person. “You should have asked me to help, Mum,” I said.
“You always act like I'm so old and feeble. I can handle a few dishes. Plus, until the new year, it's not necessary for you help in the kitchen,” she said.
I hummed, not going to argue with her logic. “Your juice is over there,” she said, gesturing with her head to the glass on the kitchen counter.
I smiled, grabbing it. “How did you know I'll need one?” I asked.
“It was Christmas. Obviously, you'll have to get drunk,” Mum said with conviction.
I shook my head as the front door opened. I stepped out of the kitchen to find Jackson dragging his feet up the stairs. “Didn't come back home yesterday?” I asked.
He gave me a slurpy hum without looking back. I could tell he had triple the fun last night. I shook my head and returned to Mum's side. “I haven't seen Dad and Elvis. Did they step out?” I inquired, helping to move the chicken from the filter to a plate.
“Your Dad is upstairs and Elvis must be too,” Mum responded.
I left to check on Elvis. I hadn't seen him after he left the racetrack. I checked his room, his bed was made just like I taught him, but he wasn't there.
I returned to the kitchen, checking if he was there, but I only met Mum there. “Mum, he isn't in his room,” I told her, already panicking.
Mum turned off the fire. “I'll check the neighbors. Check around the house,”
I nodded, rushing back upstairs, but he was nowhere to be found. He wouldn't have left the house, would he?
My eyes darted around in worry. Mum returned, but she didn't hold good news either. “He isn't at the neighbours,” she said, and I felt my soul leaving my body.