Erik (Knights Wrath MC #5)

CHAPTER THREE

About a year or so later

Grant

I’m sitting in the kitchen of the clubhouse, wondering once again where the fuck Monica ran off to hide this time. Samson is dozing in the stroller next to me, but Saxon is fussy as all get out. He’s not usually the one who has issues taking a nap or eating. Samson’s the fussy eater, and those first couple of months with him getting croup were rough. I don’t think I slept more than an hour or two at a time till they hit three months old. Made trying to get my shop up and going a real challenge. Monica’s mothering gene must be missing, or at least it’s fucking hiding. She would sleep through both boys crying their eyes out and not think twice about it. The minute we get to the clubhouse, she’s usually sleeping in my room or somewhere else, not taking care of the boys. She’s not an evil person, but maternal, she most definitely is not.

I’m sitting at the table trying to get Saxon to take a bottle since he didn’t want his baby food, when I hear voices coming this way.

The first voice is Romona’s. “Don’t you think it’s weird? I mean, she seems nice and all, but anytime we talk about their wedding or getting married, she refers to it as her wedding. Even when talking about furnishing the house he just bought, all she says is what she wants to do, not a ‘them’ or ‘we’ in the sentence ever. It’s like she’s more focused on the wedding and what she gets. Your brother being the one she’s marrying is just an afterthought.”

Linnea walks into the room with Anna behind her. “I know. I’ve noticed that too, but what the hell can I do? I asked Erik if he was happy and wanted this, and he said yes. If I question him again about it, he’s gonna get all stubborn and quit talking to me about anything. I have to support him and try to get along with her. I mean, she’s not the worst person or anything.”

I see the look Anna gives Linnea. She switches Baby Asher from one hip to another before she speaks up. “No, she ain’t the devil, but anyone with eyes can see he’s not head over heels in love with her. He doesn't look at her like Jonah looks at you or Mitch looks at Romona.”

Samson picks that moment to wake up and make himself known. They look over at me. Linnea doesn’t even question where Monica is anymore. She simply walks over, picks Samson up from the stroller, and comforts him as she grabs their diaper bag. She’s always willing to jump in and help me. Jonah picked a real gem, and I consider her one of us for sure. Anna and Romona, too.

Romona, who’s about six or seven months pregnant, moves over to the table and sits down next to me with her eyebrow raised. “I’m guessing you heard everything we just said.” I nod and wait ‘cause I know better than to think she’s done talking. She leans back in the chair and watches me rock Saxon back and forth. “Mitch told me that if Erik says he’s happy and this is what he wants, then we need to be supportive and not question it. But I swear she’s more obsessed with the wedding and decorating than she is about him or the fact that they’ll be married and living in that house together. I mean, all of us as his friends. I mean… shouldn’t we say something?”

Saxon starts to fuss some more, so I stand up and walk him around. I shake my head at Romona. “No. If he says he’s happy and that this is what he wants, we support him. We’ll be there for him, just like he’s there for all of us. If it goes sideways later, we support him then, too. It’s his life, and we have to let him live it. He’s never voiced any concerns to any of us about our choices, and we’ve made some shitty ones over the years.”

Romona grumbles but seems to agree. Anna and Linnea nod in resigned agreement. Saxon breaks the tension by throwing up all down the front of my shirt.

Linnea looks at me and tries not to laugh. “You two go shower, and you grab a clean shirt. We’ve got Samson. I’ll get some clothes out for Saxon while you’re showering.”

I walk out of the kitchen and look at Saxon as I head down the hallway. “That’s one way to get out of a conversation, but, Son, next time, I’d prefer you spew away from your old man and not all over me.” I kiss his forehead and head off to the shower, wondering once again where the fuck is their mom.

About five-maybe six years later

Erik

I just got back from church at the clubhouse a few minutes ago. As always, our house is spotless and rarely looks like someone actually lives here. The only rooms that look like they are lived in are Leif’s bedroom and our family room. That’s only because I made Celeste agree when Leif was a baby that he needed to have a place where he could play and be a kid and where we could actually sit back and relax. The way she decorated the rest of the house made that an impossibility. I still think she only agreed out of shock that I pushed back about it since, for the most part, she can do whatever she wants.

She’s been pissed at me for months now. She had said that Leif was enough for her and she didn’t want more kids. Even though I would’ve loved more kids, I agreed since it’s her body that has to go through all that.

I barely dodged the piece of firewood she threw at me the day I came home, and she told me she was pregnant again. Apparently, when she took some antibiotics for an infection she had, it made her birth control ineffective. You’d think, as a nurse, she’d remember that fact. No, it was my fault. I agreed to a vasectomy since these last few months with her have not been pleasant. I know we aren’t madly in love with each other, but it’s never been this bad. She glares at me, and what’s worse is that I’ve caught her a few times directing that anger toward Leif. He’s four and doesn’t deserve it. That’s the one thing I won’t stand for. What shows me that she’s got at least some feelings is that she never once mentioned not keeping the baby. I guess I should be thankful for small favors, right?

I’ve been contemplating moving into the guest room to sleep at night. I can’t handle the huffing around, stealing blankets, and kicking my legs in the night, which she swears must happen when she’s asleep. I think the last time we were intimate in any way was probably when she got pregnant. She’s due in about a month or so. I can’t wait to be a dad again and maybe get the woman I married back. I know she’s never been in love with me, and if I’m honest with myself, I’ve never been in love with her. Have I had love for her as my wife and mother of my kid? Sure, though I’m not sure if she could say the same back. I think she loves the lifestyle and home I’ve given her, and she settled for me.

Why do I stay, you ask? Because all those years ago, when I was going up the mountain to find Linnea and deal with those people, I made a promise to the gods that I would do whatever it took to be the best dad I could for my kids and give them a life where they know love and that I would always be there for them. Celeste might not be a great wife, and we aren’t each other’s soulmates, but she does love Leif. I know she’ll love the one we get to meet soon. I would do anything for them. Anything.

It’s late enough that I know Leif is in bed asleep. I go up to his room to check on him. He’s sleeping, holding his current favorite toy, a stuffed T-Rex he got for his last birthday. I make sure his blanket is up enough on him to keep him warm. I walk down the hall to our bedroom and peek inside. The television is on, but it looks like Celeste has fallen asleep. I’m not ready to go to bed just yet, so I head to the guest room, which is also my office, and sit at my desk. I still work part-time at the shop, but most of my days, I work as an accountant at a local firm. I know it's not exciting at all, but numbers speak to me.

The bottom drawer of the desk is calling out to me. So here’s the thing. First off, don’t judge me. I do enough of that to myself, thank you very fucking much. Back to the drawer. Since it’s been radio silence from my wife in terms of anything intimate in months—okay, let’s be honest, I’ve only been able to kiss her cheek when we’re in the company of others. Otherwise, she doesn’t let me touch her at all.

Alright, alright. I hear you. What’s in the bottom drawer, you ask? Well, I’ve been doing some thinking, and I was wondering if I’m actually straight, bi, or gay. I’ve been wondering if it’s that Grant is the only man I’ve ever really been attracted to, or is it the other way, and it’s that Celeste is the only woman I’ve been attracted to, and that’s one of the reasons we have our…issues. I was on a boat for five years and hadn’t done anything but kiss a few girls before that. Yes, you guessed it. I was a fucking virgin before Celeste and I got together. Pathetic, I know. A guy in his twenties who was still a virgin. The closest I ever came to anything before Celeste was with Grant.

Grant, who’s currently in a situation-ship with Rebeka, a gal he was casually seeing but who ended up getting pregnant a couple of months ago. They aren’t moving in together or anything, but are planning to co-parent together and currently are still fucking whenever they feel like it. Where’s the twins' mom, you ask? Well, let’s see. They’re seven now, and she took off when they were about three, maybe four. I know she calls occasionally, but that’s about it. That’s a woman who was never really made to be a mom. She just doesn’t have it in her. I think, at first, Grant was pissed off that she left, but he realized that she didn’t really do anything when it came to the boys and that they’re better off being around people who want them there.

Okay, shit. Don’t scream at me. Back to the drawer. I don’t know what made me do it, but I bought two magazines. One is Playboy, and the other one is Mandate . I wanted to see my reaction to naked men and women other than Grant and Celeste. I’m curious, not that I would do anything to jeopardize my being here with my family, but it’s just something I need to discover for myself.

I bought them a few weeks ago but haven’t had the nerve to look at them, but fuck it. I need the nerve to do something because I’m always letting others have their way. I need to figure out more of who I actually am, not what people want me to be or even what I try to tell myself I am.

I reach over and open the drawer, taking out both magazines. I set the Mandate down on the desk and start flipping through Playboy . I can appreciate the women are all beautiful and most definitely sexy, but my dick barely stirs. I look through the entire magazine, and I find a few much more appealing than others, but still it barely moves. I set the magazine down and rub my hands over my face. “Just do it, you scaredy-cat!”

I start thumbing through the pages. I’m only a couple pages in when I start to feel uncomfortable in my jeans. I flip the page, and holy shit . There’s a picture of two guys together, one having the other one bent over a desk in what looks like an office. The guy who’s standing over the guy looks like he’s definitely in charge and will tell the other guy what to do. Not only are they both deliciously fine, but the thought of letting a guy be in control makes me go from somewhat hard to so hard that I’m in need of immediate relief. I set the magazine down for just a second so I can unzip my jeans and give myself some relief. I hurry and pull my zipper down and lower my jeans and boxers just enough to take my cock out. I use some of the precum that’s leaking out to start stroking. I look back at the magazine, turn the page, and realize it’s a whole series of pictures. Fuck me . If that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, I don’t know what is. I keep stroking myself as I turn the pages to get the whole scene. After only a few more pages, I feel the orgasm raging forward, and I can’t stop the cum that sprays onto the floor beneath my desk.

“What the fuck is going on?” Getting caught with my pants down by Celeste was so not my fucking plan. Shit. I look up at her and see the moment her eyes land on the magazine on my desk. A wave of revulsion comes over her. “Are you a fucking fag ? Are you fucking serious right now?”

I start damage control without even thinking about it. “It’s not what it looks like. It really isn’t. I—” I grab at the desk to try and show her the Playboy, to somehow explain my current situation, but she interrupts me and looks at me with contempt. One, unfortunately, I’ve seen a few times since she got pregnant this last time. “Well, let’s get something fucking straight. You want to still be able to see your kids? Then you ain’t leaving me for a fucking fag, or anyone else. You try and leave me, and I’ll make your life such a living hell. I’ll tell all of this in court. I’ll make it so you never get to see Leif or this one.” She points to her bump to make her point before she continues. “You think your brothers would be okay with knowing you’re gay and want a man to fuck you, or you fuck him? You think they’re going to want you around if they find that out about you?”

I can’t speak. She’s losing her shit, and I can’t get a word out. “I’ll tell you how this is going to work. You’re going to keep me in this lifestyle that I’ve come to enjoy. I’m going to stay and work only part-time. Do not expect to touch me again, ever. I don’t want your dick anywhere near me again. Do not cheat on me, or again, I’ll never let you see the kids. You live as if we are a happily married couple. Just know that if you do anything to make me look bad, you can say fucking goodbye to being a dad. You can be in the room when I give birth ‘cause otherwise, people will talk. I get to name this one on my own. It will have your last name for appearances only.” She sneers at me as she walks back out into the hallway. “I should’ve fucking known when you were a virgin that you had to be a fucking fag too.”

She slams the door shut, leaving me speechless. I slouch down in the chair, and it hits me. My life is pretty much fucking over. I’ll never do anything to put my being in my kids' lives in jeopardy, not even if it means I never have sex of any kind ever again.

What all she just threatened comes back, and I can’t stop the tears from forming. I can only get out a single word, “Fu ck.”