Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
STAR
I pace back and forth, waiting for them to return. “Will you sit the fuck down? They will be back with the presents. I don’t know why you have any doubt,” Maggie sighs.
“Maggie, I don’t have any doubt in them finding the assholes.
I have doubt that the assholes would have sold them before they could get them.
You know that doll that Storm wants is sold out everywhere.
If they haven’t got it back, Christmas for her will be ruined,” I point out anxiously as I bite down on my nails.
“Even if they have sold it, we can find one. They will find one,” Alina reassures me.
The familiar sound of rumbling pipes echoes around the building.
I don’t hesitate in running for the door.
As I swing it open and step out, they ride in with a van following them.
They come to a stop, and I just stand there waiting, my eyes fixed on my man.
His expression gives nothing away as the Prospects jump out of the van.
“Take it to the shed. Lock everything up, and you are to stay guard until I tell you otherwise,” he orders, his gaze trained on me as he closes the distance.
He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling my body against his before he leans down close enough that I can feel his breath dancing across my lips.
I splay my hands on his chest. “Did you get the toys?” I press, not giving a shit about the bike parts or tools.
His lips curve up at the corners. “Darlin’, who am I?”
I search his eyes. He’s got the toys. I grin. “You are the mother fucking President of the Black Hearts MC.”
His grin deepens. “I am, but what else?”
My brows furrow confused. “Er, hot?”
A deep rumble of laughter vibrates from his chest. “Darlin’.” He pauses, tucking my hair behind my ear, his gaze following the movement. “I am your man, your husband. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, for our kids. You want the moon? I will bring you the fucking moon, baby.” He winks.
“I want your cock,” I counter.
Before he can answer, Queenie walks out.
“No, no, no,” she orders. We both turn our attention to her.
“No more fornicating. Dinner will be ready in five minutes, and the kids are all sat down waiting. I will not have another dinner going cold because you two can’t seem to stop humping,” she chastises us, pausing to hit me and Ghost with her cloth.
“Jesus, calm down, Queenie.” I laugh.
“Momma Dinner!” Storm yells from the open window.
“Bossy just like her mother,” Ghost quips.
We head inside, only now noticing that the rest of the brothers had already gone in while Ghost and I were talking. Everyone is all sat around the table, talking and laughing, and the kids are having fun as they laugh together. No crying.
Enzo jumps down from his chair and comes running over to Ghost, leaping into his arms. “Hey, little man. How’s the club been while I was out?”
“Good, Dad. No trouble,” Enzo reports back.
Ghost gives him a kiss on the top of his head. “Go sit and get some food, son,” he says as he lowers him down.
Enzo runs back over to his table. “Now, why doesn’t he let me hug him like that?” I sigh.
Ghost wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Because hugs and kisses from his momma make him look weak. My boy is growing to be the next leader, darlin’.”
“Pfft. If he wants to, he can change his mind at any time. He may want to become a doctor or a lawyer,” I remind him.
“Never said he couldn’t. Just letting him do and be whoever he wants to be,” Ghost states.
I smirk. “What if he wanted to join the police force?”
Those glacial eyes I adore land on mine. “Don’t even fucking joke about shit like that.”
I burst out laughing as Ghost guides me to our seats, and as soon as we are seated, he takes my plate and begins to load it full of food. “You want me to gain fifty pounds?” I gasp as he adds a large scoop of mac n’ cheese.
“I want you fed and well. I didn’t marry a skinny bitch that counts calories. I ain’t ever risking you losing that ass or those tits. Now eat your damn food,” he orders as he places the plate down.
I pick up one of the ribs on my plate, keeping my eyes on him as I take a large bite. “Happy?” I mumble around a mouthful.
He smirks before he reaches over and swipes away the BBQ sauce off my chin. “Yeah, you know how I love it when you have a mouthful of meat.”
“Sweet lord, I’m going to vomit up my dinner.” Belle mock gags beside me, making me give her a shove with my elbow.
“Okay, so what time are we heading out on Friday?” Queenie asks.
The one thing we didn’t plan was times. We all exchange a look and say, “Lunchtime,” in unison, making us all burst out laughing that we were all thinking the same thing.
“Okay. Tomorrow, Star will help me pick up the turkey from Stan’s?” Queenie asks.
I nod. “Sure,” I agree, wondering why she has asked me and not Cash or Maggie, but maybe they’re busy.
I catch Cash giving his mom a side glance, wondering the same thing as me. Who knows? Maybe she’s planning a surprise or something?
I drive Queenie to Stan’s Butchers; well, he owns the farm with a butcher’s and fruit and vegetable store at the front.
I park up and unclip my belt, ready to jump out of the truck, when Queenie grabs my wrist, halting me.
I look at her, and for the first time in the years I’ve known her, I see fear that immediately has my hackles rising.
“Queenie, what is it?” I ask.
She gives me a small smile as her eyes fill with sadness. “You know I won’t be around forever,” she starts.
“Queenie, don’t talk trash. You will outlive every single one of us,” I state, cutting her off.
“I’m seventy,” she argues.
“Well aware, Queenie. We will throw you a kick-ass party. Plus, you look like you’re in your fifties. Act like it, too,” I point out.
“Star, listen to me,” she pleads, her voice cracking.
I blink, hating that tone in her voice. She sighs and looks out the window.
“I asked you to come with me because I’m not ready to tell Cash yet.
I want to enjoy Christmas, but there may be a time when I’m not feeling myself and I will need help.
Not in taking care of me, but in making excuses for me. Say I’ve drunk too much. Anything.”
“Queenie, you are scaring the crap out of me now.”
“I found a lump.” Those words hit me harder than a two-tonne truck.
My breath catches in my throat, unable to form words from the pain in my chest. “It’s cancer.
They think they’ve caught it early enough, and I have tablets to take.
Chemo tablets.” She pauses. “I’ve only just started them, and I’m not feeling too bad right now, but I can feel it. The tiredness, the nausea…”
I reach for her hand and take it in mine. “You need to tell Cash.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. Not yet. After Christmas.”
I purse my lips, wanting to argue, to convince her to tell him, but instead I back down. “So, what happens now?” I ask.
“Well, I take these tablets, then I go back, and they will see if they have worked. If not, then I will have to have more aggressive treatment. Maybe tablets and chemo or radiation? I don’t know.
I kind of zoned out when they told me. I just know I’m not young.
I’m old. Which means they ain’t going to try as hard to save my old ass, especially when there are poor young ‘uns with it. And I’m okay with that.
If I can’t fight it, then I don’t want to.
I don’t want my final years to be ones filled with pain, not living. Not seeing my family grow.”
“Don’t know why you say it like that. Maggie ain’t having any more, and like hell am I,” I joke.
Queenie chuckles a laugh. “I know, but I want to be around to see Hendrix grow. I want to see him cause his daddy hell, to see him fall in love. I want to see him graduate. I want to see all the babies grow up. Hell, I want a front-row seat when little Storm starts dating. I can’t wait to see Ghost deal with that.
” She laughs. “If I’m constantly in hospital, fighting this, then I will miss all of that. ”
I fight back my tears. Crying won’t do her any good. She has confided in me, and I need to be strong for her. “If this is some excuse to get out of cooking Christmas dinner, then I have to say I think you’re taking it a little far,” I joke.
Queenie bursts out laughing before pulling me into a hug.
“I love you like a daughter, you know that, right?” she says, pulling back and cupping my face in her hands.
“Cash is my son, Maggie is my daughter-in-law, and Hendrix is my grandson, but you… Hell, all the ol’ ladies and the Black Hearts are my family, too,” she adds.
“We love you, too,” I choke out.
She sits back and sniffs back her tears, clearing her throat. “Right, come on. Let’s get the food, or Christmas dinner will be ruined,” she orders, patting my leg and jumping out of the truck like she hasn’t just thrown an emotional bomb at me. No, it feels more like a fucking nuke.