Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
RYAN
It feels like I’m in a fog. I haven’t seen or spoken to my mother in eleven years. I walked out when I turned eighteen and never went back. As far as I know, she doesn’t even know I have a child. I hope she doesn’t. I don’t ever want Adam to meet her.
Looking behind me, I find Adam sitting at the coffee table. When his eyes meet mine, I can read the concern in his gaze. He knows me. We have been together every single day since the moment he came into my world.
He knows when I’m upset.
Maybe he shouldn’t be that in tune with his own mother. I’ve probably fucked him up in some way or another, but I don’t think I care because this kid is my world. Every single part of him is absolutely perfect.
“Stay there. No matter what you hear, ignore it.”
“Headphones?” he asks.
I hardly ever ask him to put on his headphones, usually just when I’m having a conversation with Rose that isn’t for kid ears. Which honestly didn’t happen often. Typically, it would be about my sister and whatever antics she was pulling at the time.
“Please,” I whisper.
He runs to his room, and I count one, two, three, four before he comes back, his headphones on his ears. Once he’s safely on the sofa, I turn back to the chaos around me, although Grover is doing well to contain said chaos. And I appreciate that more than he could ever know.
“Nash, let me come outside?” I say, posing it more as a question rather than a statement. Tipping my head back, I look up at him as he turns to look over his shoulder at me.
“I’ll stay with Adam,” he murmurs, though I can tell he doesn’t want to let me near this woman.
He knows my mother from the past. He has to. There was a reason my sister ran off to party at the Dark Horse MC all those years ago, and the reason was that my mother partied there, too, before she got her ass kicked out for reasons unknown to me, and I don’t want to know them either.
I move toward the door, and Grover steps to the side to allow me to pass, but he stays close behind me as my mother steps backward, down the steps, and stands in the middle of the sidewalk. I open my mouth, then snap my lips closed, unsure of what to say to this woman, this stranger.
Grover isn’t as quiet as me. “What the fuck do you want, bitch?” he grinds out.
“I’m not talking to you, trash. I’m talking to my daughter.”
Calling my mother a bitch is appropriate, but what isn’t appropriate is calling Grover trash. I take a good look at her and am not surprised to discover that she looks as if she’s aged twenty years in the eleven I’ve been gone.
“What do you want?” I ask.
Her eyes find mine. They hold my gaze for a moment, and for a split second, I can see lucidity in her gaze before it vanishes.
That lucidity is replaced with hatred and what I refer to as the wrath.
My mother wasn’t just neglectful and abusive.
She was also mean. She was cruel and never, not once, apologized for it.
“I haven’t seen my daughter in eleven years. I find out she has a kid. I’m a grammy. So, I’m here.”
She sways slightly. She’s drunk or high, maybe even both. Probably both. “Ellen visit you?” I ask.
My mother takes a step toward me, but Grover doesn’t let her get far. He steps slightly in front of me, blocking her from getting too close. I appreciate that because I’ve felt the sting of my mother’s hand more than once.
“Doesn’t matter. I want to see you, see my grandbaby.”
“No,” I state.
The way her eyes flash, I know she’s getting ready to attack. I don’t let her. But I also don’t hide behind Grover. Stepping toward her, I square my shoulders and look into her eyes, never breaking contact.
“You will not see my child. Turn your ass around and leave right now.”
“How dare you? I am your mother.”
Shaking my head once, I try to remain as calm as possible. Inwardly, I am trembling. I’ve never stood up to my mother. When I left, I just packed my things and walked away. She didn’t care. I was eighteen and was no longer useful to her.
“No. You are the woman who birthed me, but you are not my mother. Please leave, and if you come back here, I will call the police.”
Her shoulder jerks, her eyes shift to meet Grover’s, and her lips curve up into an evil-looking grin. “You’re not going to call the cops,” she says, her voice coming out on a purr. It’s sexual and creeps me way the hell out.
In fact, it makes me physically ill. My mother, in general, makes me physically ill. The way she’s making eyes at Grover just adds something a bit special to that overall sensation. And even though I know it shouldn’t, it fills me with instant jealousy.
“He might not,” I grind out. “But I sure as shit will. Turn around and walk away.”
Her eyes flash as she shifts her attention back to meet mine. “How dare you talk to me this way,” she hisses.
Taking one step forward, then another, I lean over slightly, bending at the waist before I speak to her. And when I do, I make sure she knows I’m serious. This conversation is finished, and I won’t stand to hear her for another second.
I haven’t thought about her in eleven years, other than being filled with relief that I don’t have to deal with her. And I am indeed filled with complete and total relief. I never want to see her or speak to her again. I want to forget she exists.
“I have no respect for you. I never did. Leave. Now. If I ever see you again, I’ll call the police, or maybe I’ll just call Atomic so he can deal with you. Either way, you are nothing, and I never want you in my space ever again.”
With that, I don’t even wait for her response, mainly because her response doesn’t mean shit. Turning around, I walk away from her and head back into the house. She screams obscenities, but I don’t care. They roll off my back.
I step into the living room, and the door closes behind me, drowning out my mother’s shrill screams. I look at my son sitting on the sofa. He’s got his headphones on and is coloring on the coffee table.
This is who I live for. This little man right here, and he will never feel the wrath of a woman like my mother.
Ever. He will always know love. And I know that we’re in a transition right now.
I know he has trauma from everything that’s happened, but one thing he will always know is that I love him.
I love him, and I would die for him.
I live for him.
And I’m giving him something I never had.
A chance.
ATOMIC
Once she finishes screeching like a goddamn cat, I take a step toward her, then another.
Ryan’s mom used to hang around the clubhouse when I was a teenager, at parties, but she was never a whore.
The club wouldn’t have her ass, and although Ellen was a clubwhore for a while, it wasn’t for long before we sent her packing, too.
These bitches are strung-out junkies and fucking worthless humans.
As much as I want to drag her behind the house and end this shit right now, I know there are probably people watching from behind their curtains, so I don’t do any of that. Instead, I make sure that she understands she is not welcome here.
Not in the goddamn slightest.
“Turn around. Walk away. Never come back. If I even get a whiff of you in the air,” I say, “I’ll fucking kill you.”
And that is that.
It’s my turn to spin around and walk into the house, not giving her a chance to respond, mainly because there is absolutely nothing she could say to me that I would listen to anyway. I move into the house and close the door behind me, locking it, then lift my gaze to my family and Nash.
“Well,” I say. “You packed?”
Ryan’s eyes slowly lift to mine, her lips curve up into a smile, and she dips her chin in a single nod. “I’m packed,” she whispers, then lifts her hand and points to the two bags sitting beside the front door.
“Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” I state.
It takes us about thirty minutes to get everyone out of the door and the house locked up.
Once we’re in the car and Nash is on his bike, we drive off together, heading straight for the clubhouse.
I’m not sure what I expect, maybe for Ryan’s mother to be following us, maybe for that pimp to jump out of nowhere, but none of it happens.
Ryan scrolls on her phone in the passenger seat, Adam smashes his cars together in the back seat, and I drive, wondering when the other shoe is going to drop.
Because it will drop. I know it will. That motherfucker is watching me, playing with me.
If that pimp didn’t send Ryan’s mother over as a distraction, I would be fucking shocked.
Staying alert, I continue toward the clubhouse, Nash in my rearview mirror.
After turning down the gravel road to the clubhouse, I stop at the gate as the prospect dips his chin and opens it for me.
I hear it click, it makes a loud moaning noise as it opens, and I move right through with Nash still close behind.
Once we’re on club grounds, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I am home, my people are safe, and now I can get to work finding this motherfucker. Because that is what I’m going to do. I’m done fucking around. I’m done with guys looking for him at the pickup warehouse.
I am just done in general.
I have a woman and a son now. I’m ready to get to know them both. Ryan all over again and Adam for the first time.
Pulling up to the side of the building, I shift the car into Park and look behind me to Adam. He lifts his attention to mine, his eyes wide as they stare at me for a moment, then he smiles. He unbuckles his seat belt and stands up, lifting his hands and grabbing hold of my cheeks.
“Adam?” I ask. At the same time, Ryan reaches over and wraps her fingers around my wrist, unspeaking. I don’t know if it’s for a reason or just to show support. But I can’t look away from my son’s eyes, mainly because I’m seeing it for the first time. He has my dad’s eyes.
Fucking hell.
He doesn’t speak. He just looks at me, his eyes searching mine, and whatever he sees, he dips his chin in a single nod before he speaks. “Dad.”
“Dad,” I agree… confirm.
Whatever the fuck you want to call it.
Doesn’t matter.
I call him mine.
I call Ryan mine.
They are my life. My world. My family. And I am going to protect them at any cost, even if it means people have to die.
Although it won’t be a hardship for some of these fucks to die, especially the pimp, and I think I might smile when I finally end Ellen.
That is one bitch I won’t even lose a minute of sleep over.
When it’s done, when they’ve taken their last breaths, that is when my life with my new family can finally start. All the shit gets pushed aside. No more pain and hurt, no more guilt and lies. Just looking forward to a future that is nothing but brightness.
At least that is the ideal dream.
And I know I’m supposed to be some tough fucker, but I can still have a dream. And Ryan has always been that for me. I’m not letting anything happen to her, not ever again. I am going to relish in killing that motherfucker who dared touch what is mine.