Kat
He’s home. Home sweet home. Two days ago Ryker was out of the ICU and placed in a regular room. Now he’s resting on the couch in the cabin’s living room, wearing a pair of breakaway pants and a navy blue long sleeve t-shirt. Beside the sofa arm is this strange knee scooter thingy. It’s to aid his mobility since he can’t use crutches after being shot in the arm and shoulder. At least that’s what he said. We’ve been making small talk for the past twenty minutes never stopping to mention the pink elephant in the room—us and our living conditions. And since we’re alone alone, ya know, with the kids being in school and the baby asleep in the bedroom, it might be a good time to broach the subject. Then again, I’m not sure I want to have this conversation. It’ll make all this seem a bit too real. More so than before, when the club rivalry was an issue, and Ryker was leaving every day to stay with Vanessa. Now that she’s gone, there’s no club drama looming overhead, and our daughters know the truth, we’re in a different ballpark entirely. To be blunt, it’s scary as fuck. Change isn’t exactly easy. Not of this magnitude.
Sitting on what I’ve officially declared my chair, legs curled under me, plush blanket strewn across my lap, I stay the course, refusing to deviate from the path of nonsense until he decides to bring it up. “So your therapists will come three days a week?” Yes, this is our current topic. A real brain stimulator, can’t ya tell?
Lying on his back, one hand tucked behind his head, elbow out, Ryker nods. “I guess so. They said I can start rebuilding the strength back in my arm and shoulder a little at a time. Definitely won’t be doin’ pushups like before. At least not for a while.”
That sucks. I loved watching him and the girls together when he did pushups. All that sweat, flexing muscles, and oozing masculinity, was pure panty dropping porn. Such a shame he’ll have to work back up to that caliber.
“You’ll bounce back in no time,” I reassure, uncertain of how I’m supposed to respond.
“Has Ghost said anythin’ to you about the Suburban’s insurance money? The last I heard, Kade said they were workin’ on it,” Ryker swaps to another off the cuff topic.
That’s news to me. All I knew was the Suburban was totaled by gunfire. Some company came by and towed it away, along with Kade’s unrecognizable motorcycle. It’s been a whirlwind of construction crews coming and going this week, alongside a cleanup crew, a tow truck, and deliveries. I can barely keep up.
“Why would they talk to me about that?” I ask, confused.
“’Cause you’re not gonna drive that junker any fuckin’ more, that’s why. You shouldn’t have been drivin’ it to begin with. When Pops and Kade brought me home, I made sure to ream Pops good for handin’ ya the keys to that truck. Even if you weren’t carryin’ my kid, it still wouldn’t be a suitable ride for you. We’re gonna use the insurance money from the Suburban on whatever you wanna get that’s reliable.”
“Why would we do that? It’s not my truck. I didn’t pay for the Suburban.” Where’s all this we business coming from? We seem to be using it a lot. As if it’s second nature, an omen, or something.
“Doesn’t matter. This week we’re gonna check online to see what we can find. If you wanna car, I’m fine with that. If you wanna get another Suburban, we’ll make it work. With three kids, maybe four, you’re gonna need third-row seating. And we don’t do Fords in this family. So if you wanna get an SUV, we’re goin’ Chevy or GM.”
“If I get that then what are you gonna drive?” As far as I know, all he rides is his Harley.
“My bike or the piece of shit truck.”
“You don’t have anything else?”
“I guess I can see what settlement we’re gettin’ from Vanessa’s car insurance and from the sale of her trailer. I’ll buy myself somethin’ with that. If I can swing it, I’ll get a Tahoe this way we can have two third-row vehicles for the kids, their friends, and shit.” Ryker half-shrugs as if what he said isn’t a big deal. To me, it’s huge. He’s making long-term plans. Not until summer, when I’d planned on leaving plans. We’re talking future us plans.
Wait a minute. Vanessa’s stuff…
My nose wrinkles.
Perplexed, I hold my palm up. “Whoa, let’s take a step back. You’re pocketing the money from Vanessa’s trailer and car insurance?” That doesn’t seem right. Does it? He was her husband, so I suppose he’s entitled. Still… It feels wrong.
“Yes. I paid for the shit. It’s in my name.”
Oh. That makes sense. Perhaps he mentioned that to me before, but I don’t remember.
Satisfied by his answer, I pose the next question. “How do you propose we handle the girls now that they’re aware of who you are?” Yesterday, before bedtime, Roxie, still worried how I felt about her knowing Ryker’s her dad, decided to use me like a priest at a confessional. Evidently, my poor child needed to lift the burden of secrets that were weighing her down. From confessing when she told Ryker she knew who he was, to their secret father-daughter talks in the woods, it all erupted in one massive explosion of emotion. Needless to say, bedtime didn’t come until almost ten p.m. I was too busy reassuring both kids that it was okay they knew. That I wasn’t going to keep them from him. And that I loved them both dearly, no matter what happened in the future. Eventually, that seemed to satisfy their rambunctious minds enough to fall asleep. This morning, they were all smiles and bear hugs. Apparently, the talk worked wonders for Roxie’s conscience.
Stretching his casted leg out, Ryker readjusts its position on the couch arm. “How do you want to handle it?”
Didn’t I just ask that question?
“Umm… I asked you first.” Yep, I’ve officially downgraded to middle school responses. Next thing you know I’ll be yelling, ‘I’m rubber, you’re glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.’ Not that children say that anymore. I’ve never heard Roxie and Scarlett use that old school lingo. Maybe that language died with my generation. How sad. Now it’s all LOL, WTG, YOLO… aka please excuse me while I puke in my mouth. BTW, my generation created the infamous LOL. #WhatsUpNowBitches – See what I did there? ... Remind me never to do it again, or I might break out in hives.
Ryker arches a dark skeptical brow. “Babe, what I want doesn’t matter here. It’s about what you’re comfortable with.”
Awww… He can be so friggin sweet sometimes.
A happy flutter dances in my belly that has nothing to do with pregnancy.
Pressing my lips together I curb the urge to smile like a love-struck teen at a boy band concert. “I think…” Jesus, what the hell do I think? What do I want? Wracking my brain for a solution, I come up empty. My heart and mind are torn between what’s safe and what I desire.
“Let’s take this one step at a time, Kat. Can we agree that the girls callin’ me dad is acceptable?”
I nod. “Yes.”
It’ll be strange to hear at first, but I’m okay with that.
“I’ll help around the house with the girls the best I can. I’ll pull my own weight. So don’t you worry about havin’ to take care of me, too. You’ve got enough to handle. But, I gotta know, where am I gonna be sleepin’?”
“Where do you want to sleep?” I test.
“In bed with you.”
My heart leaps into my throat at the prospect.
I gulp it down.
“You do realize Walker’s in there in a bassinet. Why don’t I take the spare room so you can stay in your bedroom?”
Ryker’s eyes narrow, a furrow forming between his brows. “Hell fuckin’ no. If anyone’s takin’ the spare bed, it’s gonna be me.”
“But it’s your bedroom.”
“So? You think I’m gonna let my pregnant woman sleep in the spare room? No fuckin’ way. Our bed’s more comfortable, and there’s an attached bath. I don’t care if Walker’s in there. What do ya think is gonna happen when our daughter’s born? She’ll be sleepin’ in there, too. There’s no harm in us sharin’ the same bed, Kat. If you need help or go into labor, I’ll be right next to you. Rox and Scarlett already know I’m their dad so it shouldn’t be weird to have me in your bed.”
Why am I the only logical one in this conversation?
“But they might get the wrong idea. That their parents are getting back together. We don’t want to give them false hope. That’s not fair to them,” I illuminate.
Ryker scoffs. “False hope? What false hope? This is happenin’, Tiger. We’re happenin’. Vanessa’s outta the way, the club’s doin’ good, the cabin’s gettin’ repaired, and you’re havin’ my baby.”
He makes life sound so simple. It’s not.
Ryker seems to jump in feet first with every single decision, doesn’t he? With no desire to weigh the potential repercussions. Like how it might affect our children.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I argue, not on board with his plan in the slightest. Does the prospect of sleeping in the same bed with Ryker make me giddy? Sorta… Okay. Yes. It does. I always loved sleeping next to him. But the fear of the unknown, and the logical part of myself can’t leap without looking. That’s not what sane adults do. At least not sane adults with three… no… four children, they have to consider.
Ryker’s persistent. “It means everything. I love you, and I’m pretty sure when I’m not fuckin’ up you love me, too. Maybe not as much as I love you, but I can work with that.”
Rolling my eyes, suppressing a flattered smile, I snort derisively. “You’re ridiculous.”
Growling under breath, the hand not tucked behind Ryker’s head flings heavenward. “I’m goddamn serious. You’re it. This is it. The planets have aligned. I’ve pulled my head outta my ass. There’s nothin’ holdin’ us back.”
“What about Indiana?” Betcha he didn’t think about that, now did he? This isn’t so cut and dry.
Not giving up without a fight, Ryker powers on, his gruff tone, toe-curling sexy yet merciless. “What the hell do ya mean? What about Indiana? There’s nothin’ tying you there. Your dad’s here. Your mom, as we both know, is too caught up in her new man to realize you’re gone. Your grandma will understand. Texas is as good of a place for you as any. You’ve got me, Kade, Pops, Ghost, and the protection of the club backin’ you here. When our daughter’s born, if you wanna get a job. Get a job. We’ll work it out. If you wanna do the stay at home mom thing, we can more than afford that lifestyle with the kinda money I make with the club.”
Club. Club. Club. Club… it all leads back to the club. Gah!
“See, that’s the problem…’the club.’ You chose them over me once before. How do I know that’s not gonna happen again? Plus, I have no idea what you even do for them. What does bein’ part of ‘the club’ entail?” Using quotes, I drive my dislike home. I can’t say I hate the Sacred Sinners. Big is their prez, and he’s always done right by me. And the Sacred Sisters are kind of amazing.
Not trying to sound like a broken record here… But, you can’t blame a girl for holding a tiny grudge when your children’s father abandons you for the club. Your dad fake dies and joins the club. In turn, leaving you fatherless for almost half your life. Then you get kidnapped, etcetera, etcetera, because of the club. If the club wasn’t forced into my life at a young age, half of this crap would’ve never happened. Then again, Rox, Scarlett, and my new baby girl wouldn’t be alive either. So the club’s not all bad. That’s why my grudge is tiny, while my apprehension’s great. Let’s just say they’ve yet to win me over.
“And you’re not gonna know what I do for them,” Ryker returns, his unbridled, no-nonsense tone demolishing any leeway I was willing to grant him for his club affiliation.
If he wants to be stubborn. I’ll show him stubborn.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I test, combing my fingers through my hair to keep calm. The last thing we need is me going off on him. I’m more sensible than that. At least, I’ll try to be. After the week I’ve had anything’s possible.
Lifting the hem of his shirt a smidge, Ryker scratches his stomach, giving me a peek at those yummy muscles. “It means I love you, but club biz is always gonna stay club biz. It’s as much for your protection as it is the club’s.”
“So you expect me to live here with a presumed criminal, on the whim that you’re not gonna choose the club over me. Even though you can’t tell me what you do to make the money I’m supposed to spend? You can’t be serious.” Well, so much for calm. I’m ready to chop the condescending asshole’s nuts off. Club biz is always gonna stay club biz… yadda, yadda, yadda… bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. That’s a cop-out if I ever did hear one. Rosie isn’t a member, and she’s in the know. Yet, I can push two, almost three kids outta my vag for the son of a chapter president and I’m not allowed to know how he makes money? I’m not asking for trade secrets here. I’m asking a typical first date question. What a crock of bullhonky.
“I’m dead serious. The club’s bigger than the two of us. It’s a massive family that spans the globe. Sure, I might’ve chosen wrong before for… Well, you know the reasons. But now I’ve got my shit together. There are no obstacles in our way.”
Is it wrong that all I hear are excuses wrapped in a pretty package? Maybe if I’d been born to this life, I would understand. But, I wasn’t, and I don’t.
Incapable of letting it go, I sling attitude instead. “Except the club. That’s a giant obstacle, if you ask me.”
The lines on his forehead deepen as he glowers in my direction, not understanding my logic at all. “Why? Because I won’t tell you what I do for the club?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ, babe, you can’t… why do you care so much?”
“’Cause the money I live off of, I don’t want to be stained with the blood of others.”
Duh!
Common Sense for 100, Alex.
Ryker frowns, sadness seeping in, softening the lines around his eyes. “You think so little of us? Of your dad?”
My heart sinks. I hate a mopey Asshole. That’s worse than any other kind of Ryker.
Knocking the wind out of my sails, I tip my head back, staring at the hand-hewn beams on the ceiling as I expel a quiet sigh.
Way to make me feel like a big bag of poop, Ryker.
Frustrated by everything, I grip my hair and pull until the follicles ache. The sting centers me enough to clarify my issues. “He did fake his own death because he screwed over another club. Or did you forget that? The same club that kidnapped me, gave me this scar.” Driving my point home, I draw a finger down the raised line that’ll be there ‘til the day I die. “Then the same club tried to kill my family. And would’ve succeeded if Rosie hadn’t turned your woods into a motherfucking bloodbath, while you were off gallivanting with your wife, almost dying, and scaring the hell outta me. If that’s what I am to expect being associated with the Sacred Sinners, I think I’d rather die alone on a beach somewhere wondering what could’ve been. That sounds better than living a life of crime. Roxie and Scarlett deserve a normal life. Not safe rooms and bullet holes. They deserve real stability. Not the illusion of it.” There, I’ve said my peace. A mountain of tension lifts off my shoulders as I readjust on the chair.
Folding my hands in my lap, underneath my belly, I await his reply.
“Are you sayin’ I need to leave the club for us to be together? ‘Cause if you are, fine. I’ll call Pops right now and set that in motion.”
What?!
“You…You’d do that?” My mouth drops open, hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Yup, I’m in shock.
“For you and my girls? Fuck yeah. Do I want to? No. But if that’s what you want. I’ll do it. I’m in this. No turnin’ back. No half-assed bullshit. We’re gonna make this work one way or another.”
I…Wow…Umm… Yeah…I’m not sure what to say. He’s never given that option before. As flattered as I am, I could never live with myself if I took him away from his family. That’s never been my intention.
Staring blankly at the front door trying to process, I articulate a half-assed reply. “I… I can’t ask you to give it up for me.”
“Then don’t. Trust me, for once, even if I don’t deserve it.” Ryker’s sincerity wraps around me like a warm fuzzy blanket, instilling a sense of calm—rightness.
Slowly sweeping my gaze to him, Ryker’s intense, determined eyes lock on mine, holding them hostage. Throat gone dry, hands clammy, I swallow hard, and forge ahead to address what needs to be addressed regardless of the fact that I’ve been thrown for a loop. “You know we can’t live a life of bloodshed. It’s not fair to us.”
He scrubs his stalwart chin. “I’m not gonna lie and say club life is all rainbows and unicorns, babe. But it ain’t like you think it is. Bloodbaths never happen on our turf. Not like that. This would be a first. We protect our own. Over time, I think you could grow to love the life. I’m not foolish to think it’ll happen overnight. But I do think, once you truly lived it, you wouldn’t hate it so much. Rox and Scarlett will live a semi-normal life surrounded by a huge family of bikers. I’ll make damn sure of it. And so will Kade, Pops, and your dad. The worst of the worst is behind us.”
Is it truly that easy? I don’t think so. He seems to have a reasonable comeback for almost everything I’ve thrown at him. As if he’s thought this tête-à-tête out in great detail.
“How can you be sure about any of this? You can’t predict tomorrow any more than I can. What does living here look like for the girls and me?” I ask.
“Life here looks like it does now, post-mayhem. The girls go to school. We live together in this cabin day in day out. And if I have any say in the matter, your fine ass will sleep in the same bed as me. We both know where this relationship is headed. Can we predict what’ll happen six months from now? No. None of us can. But that doesn’t change anything. We’ve got kids together, Kat. We’re attracted to one another. We love each other. You’re here with me. There’s nothin’ holdin’ us back, but you. Am I gonna lie and say I’ve got this all figured out? Nope. ‘Cause I don’t. Am I gonna piss you off sometimes, and do stupid shit? Fuck yes, I am. That’s a guaran-damn-tee. No relationship is perfect. Not that I have much experience to go by. All I know is that I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life, and been waitin’ for the day to get it right. This is it. I can feel it in my bones. Come on, babe, just try it out. Take a leap of faith. We don’t gotta start nothin’ serious if you don’t want to.”
Tipping my head to the side, shaking it, I grin at the adorable yet insanely rational fool. “I’m pretty sure sleeping in the same bed constitutes as serious, Ryker.”
He shrugs. “Eh. Tomato, tomhato. I’ve seen all your bits. You’ve seen mine. It’d be a cryin’ shame if we didn’t keep showin’ ‘em to each other.” Ryker waggles his brows and offers me a lopsided smirk. He’s so handsome. So … mine, if I want him.
Giggling a little, I relish the adolescent rush of excitement that flows through my veins. Are we doing this? I think we might be.
“You’re nuts, and I’m even nutser for considering this a plan,” I jest.
Ryker lifts his shirt, exposing the bumps and ridges of all that hot maleness. My girly parts weep with joy at the sight. Rubbing the flat of his palm up and down those abs like a washboard, he winks. “Come on, babe. You sayin’ you don’t wanna keep seein’ all my bits? ‘Cause I damn well know I wanna see all yours.”
I flush, I don’t mean to, but I do nonetheless. Cheeks burning, I scrub them to hide the evidence which is pointless, because he’s too busy ogling me like he wants to see me naked here and now. The heat intensifies when he licks those sexy lips and adjusts the bulge in his pants.
Ugh! Not again.
There’s a knock at the back door.
Hallelujah!
Springing to my feet, I dash with pregnancy grace to the door to get away from him, before I make some very bad decisions that’d make my vagina pleased as punch. Now’s not the time for that. Not when we just turned a significant corner in our relationship, whatever that may be.
Unlocking the back door, I yank it open with gusto without thinking twice. Not smart on my part, but I’m too happy for the interruption to care. Unless there’s an ax murderer on the other side, then maybe I should’ve used my brains.
Thankfully, there’s not. It’s worse. Instead, here stands a stunning woman. One I’ve never seen before, wearing a pair of cut off jean shorts that show off her ass cheeks, and a red halter top with tits up to her throat. Her long, flowy, platinum blonde hair is dyed, according to her dark brown, perfectly arched eyebrows. Pink glittery gloss coats her pouty lips.
I must stand here gawking far too long, because she shoves a covered dish of some sort in my direction. On instinct, I take it, hugging it to my big belly. “Hi, is Ryker home? I heard he was released today, and I wanted to drop by.”
Right. Drop by. Wearing false eyelashes and enough makeup to be on a photoshoot.
My stomach plummets to my feet.
This is the type of woman Ryker’s used to being around. A woman like Vanessa. Sexy, available, and ready to drop to her knees and suck his dick. He is the son of the club president and a biker himself, I should’ve seen this coming from a mile away.
Not saying a word, I sidestep and sweep my hand to welcome her indoors. This is his house so I can’t turn her away. And his visitor brought… I glance down at the blue casserole dish full of fragrant pasta in hand as she saunters into the cabin, wearing a pair of shiny combat boots, her tiny butt cheeks jiggling with the exaggerated sway of her hips.
“Thanks,” she drawls over her shoulder, dismissing me.
Rude much?
Hunching my shoulders, feeling sick all of a sudden, I shut the door and waddle into the kitchen with the food. Setting it on the counter, I try to ignore the beautiful woman who’s seated next to Ryker on the couch, as my heart spasms erratically in my chest. He sat up at some point, and they’re talking. I can’t make out what they’re saying, nor do I want to. A pang of jealousy coils around my aching insides, stealing my breath away. I shove the useless feeling aside. He’s a grown man and will do what he wants. This is none of my business when we’re not even an official item yet. Aren’t we taking it slow? God, this is all so confusing.
Leaving the food lie, and rot for all I care, I quietly exit the kitchen to go check on Walker, to give me something to do. There’s a baby monitor in the living room. If he’d have woken up, I would’ve heard. As predicted he’s asleep when I enter the bedroom. Shutting off the monitor, I slip underneath the bed covers to rest my weary head on the soft pillow I bunch under my cheek. Is this what is to be expected when you’re with someone in the club? Women stopping by unannounced wearing next to nothing, ready to throw themselves at his feet now that his wife’s dead? Most of these chicks have no idea I exist. Not that that would stop them if they did. We’re not married. He hasn’t claimed me publicly. Isn’t that what bikers do? Vanessa wore a vest saying she was his property.
Blah.
I’m tired of thinking.
Curling into a ball on my side, blankets tucked underneath my chin, my eyes slide closed, suddenly exhausted.
One second I feel like we’re on the right path and all it takes is one young, footloose, and fancy-free woman in the cabin to plant seeds of doubt. Living here is going to be harder than I thought. For now, I’m gonna try to nap. My problems will still be here later. Hopefully, he won’t invite her to dinner.