37. Posie
CHAPTER 37
Posie
A fter having Dutton here for half the day yesterday, Bentley and I eased into our afternoon, cleaning around the house. While we were tidying up, men arrived to install security cameras. I called Dutton and chewed his ear off for doing it without my permission, but I’m grateful for the added sense of security. I slept somewhat peacefully last night, even with Bentley in the bed with me. He’d wanted to try out the new bed, so I told him he could sleep with me just for one night.
Dutton didn’t ask again about my association with the Boston Delinquents, but he’s showing his concern by installing the cameras and promising to swing by every day. I told him it’s not necessary, but I’m not opposed to it.
My kid hanging around dangerous men wasn’t on my bingo card. But he took a real liking to Dawson. I don’t think it’s just because of the ice cream, either. Dutton brought him ice cream, and while he likes Dutton, he isn’t begging to see him like he is Dawson.
However, last night, when I put Bentley to bed, all he could do was talk about Dutton and how cool it was that they built the bed together. He’s excited that Dutton is coming by later to take us to see Dawson.
After picking up Bentley from school and giving him a quick bath, I get him settled in his room with his toys so I can do a bit of social media work. Ten minutes in, I get distracted.
I haven’t bothered to search Bentley’s father in all the years since I left Boston.
But now I do.
Bobbi Harley.
Yes, his last name is ironic, considering he’s part of a motorcycle club.
His picture comes up straight away. I cringe at the sight of him, trying to calm my heart and remind myself that he won’t know if I look him up. I can’t believe I loved this man and put my life on hold for him.
Sighing, I open his page and then start scrolling through it. I find pictures of him with another woman. Zooming in on one image, I realize I recognize her. She’s one of the women he told me not to worry about when we first got together.
Jokes on me, though, right? Because he was fucking her behind my back the whole time.
Scrolling down farther, I see a picture of them together, his hand on her round belly as she holds up an ultrasound picture.
I want to vomit.
Looking at the date, I pause. That can’t be right. Can it?
It’s from four years ago. So after he gave me money and told me to fix the problem, he knocked up someone else.
Asshole.
Clicking on her profile, I see a picture of her with her son, and he’s wearing a little leather biker jacket.
What was so wrong with me that he chose to discard me like a piece of shit and have a baby with someone else?
Maybe I should have taken Dutton up on his offer to kill him.
I want to kill him. Make it so he can’t ever breathe again.
When I left Boston, I’d decided that when Bentley was old enough, if he wanted to know who his father was, I would help him find him. I just didn’t expect to find him now and so easily.
He always made me feel less than, and when I wouldn’t comply, he got physical.
I find it ironic that the man I’m currently fucking is entirely dominant. But I know without a doubt Dutton would never hurt me. He might disagree with my opinions, but he respects them because he respects me.
I was too na?ve back then to understand that the kind of love Bobbi offered me wasn’t enough. I was just so desperate for any love or affection after my parents died that I was stupidly easy to mold.
Will he try to find me now?
A weight drops in my stomach.
If Waylon tells him I’m in Manhattan, how long would it take him to find me?
And what would he do if he did find me?
Thoughts of moving pop into my mind. I definitely don’t want to do that. Not now that Bentley is in school and making friends. And I have a stable job that can get us on the right path.
Bobbi told me to fix the problem and come back; I chose to leave and never return. I changed my phone number and didn’t have any family he could contact to find out where I was. So it worked. I got a clean slate. But, right now, it doesn’t feel so clean of a break.
I hear a car pull up out front, and I slam my laptop shut as if being caught doing something I shouldn’t be.
Bentley runs out of his room, squealing in excitement.
“Hey, put some pants on!” I yell after him.
“Dutton is here!” he shouts. I laugh as I quickly usher him to get dressed.
I open the door and lean against the jamb expectantly.
“Did your boss say you could finish for the day?” Dutton asks smugly as he walks up the stairs and onto the porch.
“It’s okay; my boss is more focused on his receding hairline than what I’m up to. As long as I make him money, he doesn’t seem to care.”
He comes to a stop in front of me with a smirk. “Those are fighting words, Mostriciattola .”
There’s that name again. I need to remember to google it later so I can find out what it means.
“Dutton!” Bentley screams as he runs down the hall. “Are we seeing Mr. Dawson today? Because you promised yesterday.”
“Hey, Bentley. We sure are. Are you ready?”
I laugh when I notice Bentley’s shirt is backward. “One second,” I say as I take off his shirt and put it on the right way. “He had mud all over him from school, so he had to have a bath. Let me get my handbag. Are you sure your father doesn’t mind if we visit him?”
“He’s looking forward to it. And he even rented a jump house for Bentley,” Dutton calls out.
I freeze as I grab my handbag, not sure I heard him correctly.
“Rented?” I ask, walking back into the entryway
Dutton shrugs as he says, “Well, they offered it to him for free.”
“Whoa, he gets things like that for free?” Bentley asks with wide eyes.
I roll my eyes as I usher them both out the door to lock it up. Bentley skips toward the car, and Dutton leans in close to me, making sure not to touch me. I appreciate that he respects my boundaries around Bentley, especially considering we haven’t yet had a proper discussion about whatever the fuck is happening between us.
“I appreciate the photo you sent me today,” he purrs in my ear, and warmth floods my pussy. “I was in the middle of a meeting and couldn’t stand up to offer the rest of my presentation because of how fucking hard I was.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “You asked for it.”
“When did you become so obedient?”
“When did you become so charming?” I shoot back with an arched eyebrow.
“It’s always been one of my redeeming qualities.”
I scoff and stop short as I notice the car seat in the back of Dutton’s car. “Did you buy him a seat for your car?”
He shrugs. “It seemed inefficient moving yours between cars. Don’t worry, I got the top of the line.” He opens the back door for Bentley. “At least that’s what the lady said.”
I stare at him, not sure what to think. This man is becoming more and more considerate, and I reflect on how alien he is now compared to the brutal, commanding man I first met. Now he’s buying car seats and installing them in his car when we’re not even… what? Dating? A thing?
He turns and looks at me. “What? Do I have blood on my shirt again?” he asks, deadly serious.
I gape at him. Nope, still a psycho. “Do you do that stuff in broad daylight?” I whisper as I get into the car.
He leans in and whispers so only I can hear, “The best activities aren’t exclusive to the night, Posie.”
I’m out of my fucking mind with this man.
When we’re all in the car, I’m not sure I want to ask him what he did for the day.
But Bentley says in a sing-song voice, “What did you get up to today, Dutton?”
Dutton glances in the rearview mirror, smirking as I give him a warning glare.
“Just did some boring work. I had to let someone go because he wasn’t doing the things I asked him to do.”
“Oh,” Bentley replies thoughtfully. “Did you ask him nicely?”
“Very nicely,” Dutton says, and I clear my throat.
We pull up to a building, and the first thing I notice is the van that delivered the bouncy house. Only one other car is parked in the lot. Dutton gets out and unbuckles Bentley from his car seat before I can even open my door. As soon as Bentley is set free, he jumps out of the car and runs straight to Dawson, where he waits at the door with a huge grin.
“Good to see you again, Bentley.” Dawson laughs as Bentley’s little hands wrap around his legs in a big hug. My heart twists at Bentley's immediate attachment to him, and I wonder if Bentley might’ve been like this with my father. I try to bury those sad thoughts.
“I was asking when we can hang out,” Bentley says as Dutton and I follow them side by side.
Dawson looks over his shoulder at me and says, “It’s good to see you again, Posie.”
“You too,” I reply with an awkward smile because the situation feels far too intimate and not like the sex-only arrangement Dutton and I were supposed to stick to. But him putting together my bed yesterday wasn’t about sex either. Which reminds me…
I bite my bottom lip, wondering if I should show Dawson the photo I took of Dutton sitting amongst the pieces of my bedframe because I’m positive he’d laugh at it as much as I did.
“Can we go and jump?” Bentley is already hurriedly taking his shoes off.
“Of course. That’s why we got it,” Dawson says as he removes his shiny shoes and then holds his hand out for Bentley.
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Your dad likes to jump?” I ask Dutton, confused, as he pulls out two chairs. The building is empty, and I wonder what type of business Dawson intends to put in here.
“Yes. He actually hated kids, and they’re just drawn to him. But the moment he had his own kids, he was a goner. He was hands-on, especially when we were little. He would do all types of things with us. I wonder if it’s because he never got to enjoy them as a kid that he wanted to provide us with as much as possible.”
I side-eye him. Dutton had mentioned his father having secrets from his past, and it’s not my place to ask, so instead, I say with a sad smile, “My parents were the same. They loved taking me places, and my father was probably the worst. He’d always use me as an excuse to go onto all the rides he wanted to go on whenever we went to the fair.” I laugh, thinking about when I was ten years old and didn’t want to go on a particular ride. I told him that if he wanted to go on it, he’d have to go alone. He didn’t.
Dawson jumps, and Bentley bounces higher, squealing with excitement.
“Sometimes, I think my dad wanted a son. He tried to show me how to fish and things like that, but I didn’t have much interest in them. I didn’t like the dolls my mother bought me either. I just liked artsy stuff,” I say, remembering how I’d entertain myself in my room for hours.
Quietly, Dutton says, “You don’t talk about them much.”
“They died, and then I had no one. I suppose I don’t like digging into the past.” Look where it got me in Boston when I tried to pay my respects. Even though I don’t say it out loud, I think Dutton understands as he studies me.
“Now you have Bentley.”
I turn to face him with a smile. “Yes, now I have Bentley.”
Dutton clears his throat.
“Who is his father, Posie?” I’m surprised he’s asking again.
“Why do you care so much?”
I’m confident giving him the name wouldn’t be a good thing like it’ll manifest Bobbi onto my doorstep the very next day. There’s a reason why I left him off Bentley’s birth certificate.
“Because I saw how frightened you were when you spoke to Striker. I can protect you both.” He sounds so earnest.
I swallow, a tendril of emotion sapping the fight out of me how I want to lean into this man. How I want to believe what he’s saying. And the terrifying thing is that I do believe him. But when will the novelty of all of this end for him? I’ve fought hard to get Bentley and me here, and I want it to be enough. I want to have done enough to get us far away from that life. Even if I am scared of his father, I don’t want to admit that to anyone. I want to push past that version of me.
“We don’t need protection,” I say, feeling that sense of fear closing in because if Dutton thinks Bobbi might come looking for us, then he most likely will.
“I would kill him for you.” He says it without flinching. And this isn’t the first time he’s offered.
I sigh, looking at the killer beside me again. How do I feel so safe beside this man who can so easily dispose of anyone?
With a sense of defeat, I admit, “I don’t want to take away Bentley’s choice to know his father someday if that’s what he wants.” His eyebrows furrow in confusion because how could he understand? He doesn’t have a child to protect, and he doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a parent.
“I always promised myself that when Bentley was old enough, if he wanted to know about his father, I’d tell him. If he wanted to find him, I’d let him. I don’t want to be the reason why he can’t see him. And I know the moment I give you his name, you’ll take both Bentley’s and my choice away.”
“He doesn’t seem like much of a father to me if he has nothing to do with his son,” Dutton states. I look over to Dawson and Bentley as they continue to bounce and laugh.
“I don’t entirely disagree with you. But, please. Going after Bobbi will only cause more bloodshed.”
“Bobbi Harley?” Dutton asks, and I realize my mistake.
“Please don’t do anything, Dutton. Promise me.”
“What if Bentley isn’t safe with him around?” he presses.
“Then I’ll kill him myself. It’s my fight, not yours,” I say, trying to fill myself with all the bravado I can. Because deep down, I know I’m still that scared little girl. I wasn’t raised as a fighter, and although I have a fiery temper, I’m half the size of most men. But if I had to fight for my son’s safety, I’d take down a whole army before I let them touch him.
“Let me know when you need me, Mostriciattola . It’s okay to ask for help.”
It goes without saying that Dutton has already helped us more than he knows.
“What does that word mean?” I ask.
“ Mostriciattola ?” he repeats as he begins to remove his shoes. I follow his lead and do the same. He takes off his suit jacket, and when he stands and offers me his hand, he says, “It means ‘little monster.’”
My eyes widen. “That’s what you’ve been calling me this whole time? Why can’t it be something sweet?!” I demand.
He chuckles, and when his father looks in our direction, I still place my hand in Dutton’s as he helps me up from the chair.
“You’ve destroyed my office more than once. Do you think a sweet woman would do that?”
I hmph at him, walking ahead of him to the inflatable castle. “You’re not interested in sweet, Mr. Taylor.”
“No. The only sweet thing I like is between your legs.”
Heat rises up my neck as we stop outside the bouncy house. I stare at Dutton for a moment before turning away and crawling inside.
Bentley screams with joy when we join them, and Dawson declares he is taking a water break, laughing as he leaves. Bentley starts bouncing around Dutton, who pretends to chase after him. For a moment, I see the man he truly is—the cold-hearted man who says he admires his father and is good with children. He gives himself too little credit.
I notice Dawson watching us again with a smile.
I know why he’s smiling, and it feels as comforting as it is terrifying because this thing between me and Dutton is morphing into something more than just sex. And I don’t know how to get myself out of the situation without getting hurt.
Dutton isn’t ready for something like this—a family of his own.
And how arrogant of me to think that he could ever be.