Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
RYAN
Once we have everything all figured out and my start date is scheduled for two weeks from now, I head back home. I’m surprised there is no brother waiting for me, tapping his foot angrily.
I just assumed I was missed.
But I’m not.
Grover has already forgotten about us. It doesn’t surprise me, even if I wished it would have taken a bit longer.
Letting myself into the house, I move around the kitchen and assume there will be some groceries, but there’s nothing new. So not only did he forget to send someone to watch me, but he’s also forgotten groceries that he claimed he was headed straight to the store to grab.
I’m not entirely sure how I feel about any of this. Last night, when he got all pissed off and left after sex, then came home and cuddled with me, I had some serious whiplash. I decide to make some dinner for me and Adam.
Adam.
He’s been quiet since we left the bakery. I have a box of cupcakes and cookies that he picked, but other than that, he hasn’t said much to me. Glancing over to him, I watch as he brings a couple of cars into the kitchen and climbs up on a barstool before he begins to run his cars on the countertop.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as casual as possible.
Adam shrugs a shoulder, but he doesn’t speak immediately. I allow him to take his time. He’s more like me, a bit silent while he gathers his thoughts. When he has them gathered, he’ll have no problems speaking to me.
I continue to make some spaghetti, glad to have at least those ingredients in the house. I may need to start work a bit sooner than I anticipated. If Grover is going to completely ghost me, I’m going to need money quickly.
His speech about no other man in my bed and protecting me was all bullshit. I knew it was when he said it, but I wanted it to be true. The longer I think about everything that has happened just over the past twenty-four hours, the angrier and angrier I grow.
What a dick.
Although, even if he’s a dick and even though there’s nobody outside my door as protection, I’ve never felt safer. I also don’t quite know how to feel about that. I am confident that nothing is going to happen to me in Pineville.
Maybe it’s just because this used to be my home and it feels safe, but I can feel it down to my bones. Or maybe I just want to feel safe here. Like I’m creating that warm blanket to wrap around me and Adam in hopes it will become a reality if I believe it enough.
It doesn’t take me long to finish the spaghetti, but by the time I’m done and have the bowls ready, I realize I haven’t heard Adam tell me what’s bothering him. I’ve been so lost inside my own head I haven’t focused on my son.
Sliding a bowl across to him, I watch him and wait until he lets out a heavy sigh. That’s his telltale sign that he’s going to speak. And he does. But first, before he says a single word, he lifts his gaze to meet mine from the food in front of him.
“What happens when Grover never comes back?” he asks.
My head jerks at his unexpected question. “Why do you think that’s a possibility?” I ask.
He looks down at his bowl, using his fork to push his food around before he stops, and his gaze finds mine again. Adam clears his throat and then speaks again. “He left, he hasn’t been back, and I don’t know…”
His words trail off, and I have to admit that I don’t blame him for the questions. I feel the same way. I hate it, too. I am naturally a self-conscious person, but when it comes to him, to Grover, I am that times ten, and I don’t like myself at all.
But I can’t let my son feel this way. I won’t allow it. I don’t know how to reassure him without telling him a lie, but I try.
“Grover said he isn’t going anywhere. He brought us here. I think he’ll always be here for us.”
It’s the best I can do. I’m not sure how to assure him without blatantly feeding him some kind of bold lie. I don’t ever want to lie to Adam… God, what a hypocrite I am. We’re living a lie right now.
A lie that I’m facilitating and have created.
I haven’t told anyone the truth about Adam’s paternity. And here I am, so worried about lying to him about Grover being around when that’s all I’ve been doing.
Liar. Liar. Liar.
There’s a knock on the side door. The sound takes me out of my thoughts.
I pause, turning my head and looking directly at the door.
I watch as if I’m waiting for it to swing open.
Then the sound comes again, my eyes flick to the dead bolt, and I notice it’s firmly locked in place.
Nobody is coming in here, not without making a lot more noise than simply knocking.
When it happens a third time, I move toward the door.
I think about calling Grover. It’s growing dark, and I can’t see who is behind this door since it doesn’t have a peephole.
Inhaling a deep breath, I move closer to the door and press my ear against it as I call out, asking who is on the other side.
“It’s Ellen.”
That was not the voice I expected to hear ever again. But that name comes attached to another one. The one that put me in the hospital. So I don’t fling the door open the way my sister probably assumed I would at the sound of her voice.
In fact, I am more cautious than I ever have been.
I hold my breath for a moment, then let it out slowly, trying to release my anger with it, but it doesn’t work.
I’m still pissed off. Completely and totally pissed off.
She didn’t even come to the hospital to see me, not that I ever wanted her to.
But it would have been nice if she tried. If she gave a shit.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“I just want to talk to you,” she calls out, adding in a sniffle for good measure.
I almost laugh, but I’m too scared that Golden Joker is lurking around the corner, ready to take me and force me to work off Ellen’s debts.
Lifting my hand to my forehead, I hold it there for a long moment as I just try to breathe.
I don’t know what to say or do next, so instead of saying anything, I stay quiet.
“Ryan,” she calls out. “Please. I just want to talk to you.”
Every bit of my gut instinct tells me to call Grover right this instant. But for whatever reason, I decide to ignore my gut. I don’t open the door because Adam is inside, and I’m not about to put him in danger, not over this.
“You can talk to me through the door,” I state.
ATOMIC
Nash follows us back to the clubhouse. It’s getting late, and I should probably go back home, but I need to find out exactly what the fuck Nash has planned.
I know he’s talking about a strip club, but there is a lot that goes into that.
The thought of Nash and all the retired OG Dark Horse MC men running a strip club makes my head fucking spin.
Dirty fucking bastards.
That’s what they are, and as much as it annoys me, it also makes me laugh.
I hope in twenty years, I’m exactly like them.
It doesn’t take us long to pull into the clubhouse parking lot. Kicking the stand down on my bike, I throw my leg over and stand up tall as King and Nash fall in beside me. Together, the three of us head inside.
I jerk my chin toward the conference room, where we hold church, as I head around to the bar and grab a couple of bottles of Crown Royal, along with a few glasses, before I make my way toward them. If I’m going to talk about this shit, I’m going to need a fucking drink.
King and Nash are sitting at the end of the table as I approach, closing the door behind me so we won’t be interrupted. Although, just because the door is closed doesn’t mean that these fucking heathens won’t just bust into a room anyway.
“Let’s discuss this,” I say, pouring the three glasses of Crown.
There is a moment of silence as Nash reaches forward, taking a glass before he lifts it to his lips and takes a drink. He hisses as the liquid burns his throat before he leans back in the chair and his gaze flicks between me and King, then lands on me.
“Got a building. It’s across from the university.”
My eyes widen. “Yeah?” I ask.
He jerks his chin. “College girls needing cash, college boys needing to see tits and ass,” he chuckles.
“You sound like a goddamn pervert,” King states.
Nash shrugs a shoulder, obviously unbothered by his son’s snarky remark. “Call me what you want. I’m not doing it to stare at the dancers. I’m doing it to make some fuckin’ money. You don’t want us to run a stable. This is something we can do to make some money for ourselves and the club.”
“Plus see tits and ass?” King remarks.
Nash’s eyes widen, and he leans forward with a smirk playing on his lips.
“Son, I can see tits and ass any minute of any day. You already know that shit. We got clubwhores, and if I get tired of them, I can just hop on my bike and ride to another club and taste theirs. This isn’t about tits and ass, although I’m not going to cry about the view. ”
Point. Made.
King rolls his eyes without saying another word. Nash is drinking his Crown as if he’s just laid out the perfect mic drop. Which, to be fair, what he said was pretty legit.
“Let’s talk numbers. What is the startup cost for something like this, and do you have the capital in your club, or will you need money from us? And how does this affect what work you’ve been doing for us, vetting and recruiting clubs to patch over to the Dark Horse MC?” I ask.
Nash’s lips curve up into a shit-eating grin. It’s clear that he has been waiting for this moment so he can give me his whole fucking speech. Thankfully, whatever he has prepared isn’t long because if it was, I would tell him to cut it way the fuck back.
“I got five guys working on the club shit, and nothing gets approved unless my eyes have landed on it. The building was a club that closed down during all that Covid shit. It’s empty, but it’s been left as is.
We get furniture, everything. A little touchup paint, carpets cleaned, and it’s good to go. Nothing needs to be updated yet.”
It sounds too good to be true, so I open my mouth to say just that when he continues.
“I know it sounds too good to be true, and that’s what I thought, too, but honest to fuck, they just want to get it rented to someone.
It’s a great location, and it’s got everything we need. I think it’s a good investment.”
“Do you need any financial support from the club?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’ve got plenty saved.
Never use my money for anything. Same with a couple other guys.
We’re going to pool our money. It’s still going to be owned by the club.
Everyone will have a rotation to work it.
But my vice president, my treasurer and I are going to run the day-to-day operations. ”
I don’t hate the sound of any of this. In fact, I like it.
Flicking my gaze over to King, I try to gauge his reaction, but his expression is blank as he stares at his father.
Then, he places his hands on the top of the table before he pushes himself to stand.
I watch as he leans over and looks directly into his father’s eyes.
“I like this for you,” he says. I wait for the but, and it comes. However, it’s not what I quite expect it to be. “But I wish you wouldn’t take it on so you could see your grandkid more.”
Nash’s lips curve up into a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be at every fucking milestone for that kid. I think I missed enough in life. I don’t plan on missing more.”
There’s something really fucking amazing about their relationship.
Nash didn’t raise King, but they have this easy father-son relationship now that is built on a respected friendship rather than a typical child and father situation.
I wish I had what they have, and I am man enough to admit that I’m jealous as fuck.
Then my thoughts drift to Adam, and I have to suck in a breath as I think about him. I want everything with him, and then I want more kids with Ryan. For whatever fucking reason, I want a whole goddamn houseful, and I don’t even know why.
I’m not sure if it’s because I want to keep her or if it’s because I want more little creatures like her. Maybe it’s a combination of both. Whatever the fuck it is, I want it.