Epilogue

Trainer

One year later

 

Noose has dark circles under happy eyes. His smile reaches that light-gray gaze every time now.

Was slow in coming.

Rose did that for him. Right now, his old lady's feeding a kid on each tit.

And two are running around, throwing ice from the beer cooler at each other.

“Fuck it,” he drawls, coming over to sit by me with a weary sigh. He drops his weight on one of the patio chairs and groans. “My ass is more tired with these twins than when I went through BUDS. Fuck, I'm beat.”

I'm watching Krista. Her belly so swollen, I can't believe she can walk. Gonna pop any day now.

Her parents are flitting around, worried about her every move.

I don't worry, keep my eyes on her a lot, though.

As if she knows I'm thinkinʼ of her, she turns.

Gives me a boner when she gives me that look. The yearning look, as I think of it.

We're real careful having sex now. Krista still wants me deep. I just take it slow.

“Man, you got it bad,” Noose says, looking between me and Krista.“Yeah,” I say, taking a pull on my beer.

Noose grunts, putting a hand on his knee like he's holding himself up. “How's rich life?”

I shrug. “Don't matter. Never needed much anyways.”

“Don't take this the wrong way, but with all the money Krista got, seems like you two could've got something really big.”

“Yup.”

“Didn't, though.” Noose frowns, taking in the medium sized house.

“Gotta a pool, though.”

I raise my beer, and we clink bottles.

“Yeah, don't know about that one, Trainer. Rains a fuckton here.”

The splashing from all the kids playing is a low roar in the background.

“Kids love it,” I say, thinking about the one cookinʼ in Krista's belly. My kid won't have to worry about Arnies.

Noose watches me watch Krista.

“Don't worry. You're gonna be a great dad.” His lips twist, and he claps my shoulder, picking my thoughts right outta the air.

“Don't know how,” I admit.

“Fuck—you think I did?” Noose snorts, taking a pull from his own beer, then clicks the bottle against mine. “Kinda learn-as-you-go gig. Besides, you sure as fuck know what not to do.” He snorts.

I agree.

Snare and Wring saunter over. Their women, Sara and Shannon, are holding their children who are too young to be in the water.

Wring glances at Shannon before sitting down.

Snare holds up a beer, tilting it my way. “Missed a lot of action recently.”

“Feel grateful,” Wring says, leaning back on the fold-out chair and crossing his feet at the ankle. His eyes restlessly move over his family.

“You guys ever relax with the old ladies?” I ask, wanting a kind of confirmation.

“Pretty relaxed now,” Wring says without looking away from Shannon and their kid.

“God damn, that kid's blond,” Snare says, checking out Shannon and Wring's little boy.

“Toe head,” Wring comments. “Not much choice, what with Shannon being Norwegian. My Viking princess,” he adds, waggling his brows up and down.

“Nice, fucker, don't ruin the moment with your brand of TMI,” Noose says.

“And sometimes that helmet.” Wring whistles low in his throat.

Noose raises his hand, giving him the bird.

“Nice, stay classy, guys. There's kids around.”

I whip my face to Snare. “Speakinʼ of—where's Viper? He never misses a barbecue.”

“Pussy,” Noose says in casual answer.

Wring shakes his head. “As if. Nah—he's found himself someone.”

That gets all our attention. “No way,” Noose says, violently leveling his beer across his knees and sloshing some onto the stamped-concrete patio. “That bastard is never gonna take another old lady. Lost his girl to cancer years ago—before I was a prospect. No way, no how.”

“Saw her. Saw the way his eyes were on her. It's something more than tail.” Wring gives us a challenging stare.

Can't imagine Vipe with anyone. He's always pissed about all our “complicated pussy problems,” as Noose puts it.

Makes sense.

Though every time I look at Krista, I can't help but think she made shit simpler. And it's not because we have a bunch of cash. Or that the house the guys were helping put together for me is now the new place for brothers to hang if they need a spot for a while.

I see Judge and Eleanor mingling with Krista's parents and greeting everyone.

Then Lariat snags my attention, walking up late. A sheepish expression on his face, he's holding a huge box with dancing lambs on it.

“Hey, fuck nuts,” he says, staving off all the teasing that comes with someone lookinʼ like Lariat, holding a gift wrapped in dancing lambs. Yellow sparkly paper, crescent moons, and baby lambs. Pretty girly.

We start laughing.

He flips us off.

Life is good.

“Angel wrapped it, okay?” He rakes a hand through his dark hair. “So fuck right off with your bullshit.”

He plops it down in front of me, and I frown. “What? Isn't this for when the kid pops out? I mean, shouldn't Krista be opening this?”

Lariat shakes his head and lasers a stare at the other brothers. “It's from all of us, but fuck if I knew how to wrap this shit.”

“Huh. Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”

Silence meets me. I pluck the bow, and satiny yellow ribbon unwinds, falling softly to the concrete below.

See, me and Krista are letting the baby's sex be a secret. So the guys straddled the line of blue for boy and pink for girl. Yellow's neutral.

Scoring the paper's edge with a finger, I tear it away and open the box. A bunch of hard, board books for kids are inside.

Silently, I slowly sound out the titles, feeling my lips move through the letters, my mind forming the words.

Goodnight Moon.

Where the Wild Things Are.

There's maybe another eight more. If I try hard, I can make out the titles without too much trouble.

Krista and I do get around to things other than fucking.

Sometimes.

“What do ya think?” Noose asks after they've watched me for a minute or so.

“It's great. This for the kid?” I ask, emptying the last of my beer and setting the bottle on a solid glass table between me and Noose.

“Kinda,” Wring says.

Lariat smirks. “It's for you to read to the kid.”

My chin jerks up from looking at all the books.

Snare stares at me. “It's for you to read to your kid,” he repeats. His voice is significant, deep.

“You fuckers,” I say, as a deep emotion rolls to the surface like a tidal wave coming to the shore of the new beach of my mind.

I can't breathe.

My brothers surround me, their hands touching my shoulders—back.

Solace.

That's a word I know now.

They give me that.

“Thank you,” I manage as hot tears crawl down my face.

I should feel ashamed at crying like a pussy.

Instead, I just feel grateful. Because I got so many people who give a shit about me now.

Love me.

“Welcome,” Noose says, hiding me from everyone else while I have my moment.

“Proud of you, Trainer,” Wring says, and the faces of Lariat and Snare dip in nods.

And maybe, just a little, I'm proud of myself.

 

THE END

 

 

Road Kill MC 8

 

Available July 26, 2018; pre-order now!

 

Never miss a new release! Subscribe:

 

 

Love Road Kill MC? You might also enjoy the sample which follows, also by Marata Eros ....