Chapter 31
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
RYAN
It’s been a week, a whole week, since I’ve seen Grover, and I’ve come to the realization that it’s really over.
The only thing he has done is texted me.
He’s asked me if he can come over to see and stay with Adam Friday afternoon.
He wants to stay with him for the weekend at my house, well, his house.
I don’t know how to classify it because he pays for everything, but I live here.
Grover has offered me his room at the clubhouse to stay while he does this. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Not for any other reason than I don’t think I want to stay at the clubhouse again, ever.
It seems like almost every time I spend the night there, something traumatizing happens to me. Maybe in the beginning, it wasn’t that way, but when it comes to the Dark Horse MC clubhouse, the bad experiences overshadow the good.
Grover is Adam’s father, and I want him to spend time with him. And I certainly don’t want Adam at the clubhouse any more than is necessary, so it’s a good alternative. I just don’t like it for me.
Staring at the text—I have left it on read for about two days—I bite the corner of my lip. I need to respond. I know I do, but I’m not sure of what to say. I could respond a million different ways, but I don’t want to cause drama or a fight. I also don’t want to stay at that clubhouse.
Maybe I can beg Shawn to let me work at her bakery for as many hours as she’ll allow.
I am willing to work long hours because they’ll be the best hours ever.
They will be a distraction, and I’ll be away from my house and the clubhouse.
Plus, it will keep my mind busy and off the only thing I’ve been able to think about lately.
Grover.
Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it as I finally type out my text to Grover.
Sounds good. I will see you Friday after Adam returns from school.
Since Golden Joker is no longer a threat, I decided it was time to complete the enrollment of first grade for Adam. He loves school, so it wasn’t a chore to do it at all. He’s been more than happy to run up to the front door every single day since he started.
I stare at my phone, waiting for him to respond to me.
I don’t know why I expect him to respond immediately.
It’s not like I did. Then I see those telltale three little dots appear, disappear, then appear again.
I’m not sure what he’s typing, but he’s either typing and deleting or writing me a novella.
GROVER: OKAY.
Okay.
Okay.
What the hell does okay mean?
Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times. I start to type back to him, but I don’t know what to say. So, instead of making a fool out of myself, I go to Shawn’s name in my contact list and write her a text, asking her if I can come in early and stay late this weekend.
SHAWN: Sure. However long you want to be there, but why?
Instead of holding anything back, I tell her the truth. She’s the only person I know here and has become my confidant. Maybe I’m being stupid by becoming friends with her because I know if push ever comes to shove, she will always choose King and the Dark Horse club over me.
Always.
And I would never blame her for that or hold it against her. In fact, I would question her if she didn’t. I don’t type any of that, though. I tell her the truth but with as little detail as possible.
ATOMIC WANTS TO STAY WITH ADAM AT THE HOUSE THIS WEEKEND. HE OFFERED ME HIS ROOM AT THE CLUB. I’D LIKE TO STAY BUSY.
I’m not sure how she’s going to react to that, but in true Shawn fashion, she sends me an emoji with a happy face and three little hearts surrounding it. I know it’s sent in support. I’m grateful to her, even if I know that our relationship has an end date.
As soon as everything between me and Grover has completely settled and our life is established, we won’t continue texting and talking.
And once I find a job somewhere else other than the bakery, we probably won’t talk or see one another at all unless it’s in town shopping or something.
She’ll just be that girl I used to know.
Like Grover.
Someone that I used to know.
That makes me sad, but it’s the truth. Something I’ve decided to work on with myself is to be a bit more realistic, not only with my expectations but also with the world around me. So I know that I’ll be someone, at some point, that everyone at the club used to know… again.
My phone buzzes. Looking at the screen, I expect to see a text from Shawn, but that’s not who has contacted me.
My heart skips a beat, and my breath hitches when I realize it’s Grover.
I don’t know why. It’s not like his earlier response was anything special.
It was a single word, so why does my body react this way to just seeing his name?
Sliding my thumb across the screen, I go to the messages app to read his text. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but the words I read are nothing but another blow to my heart and a punch to my gut.
GROVER: HOPING TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT NAILING DOWN A VISITATION SCHEDULE FOR THE FUTURE. AND A SOLID NUMBER FOR CHILD SUPPORT.
I want to hate him. I want to hate every ounce of him, but I don’t.
He’s being really wonderful, too great for what I’ve put him through.
But then again, I’ve been through things, too, a lot of things, and I’m trying the best I can.
I’ve never, not once, thought that my life would turn out this way, and for all of the bad, it’s pretty great, too.
Whatever you think.
He’s doing more for me than anyone ever has, although I don’t know why I’m surprised because he always has. Even when I was eighteen and we were just beginning, this man always took care of me.
I know that, without a doubt, I would have ended up just like my sister if I hadn’t had him in my life when I did. I should thank him for that. I decide that I need to. When we have this conversation about money, I’m going to do just that.
I’ve been living in survival mode for so long.
It’s time for me to take some time and make some moves in a positive direction, not out of necessity but instead out of self-love.
And I know it seems selfish, but how can I love anyone if I don’t love myself?
I’ve been so busy taking care of Adam and Ellen’s needs that I have never focused on just me.
Even when I ran away, it was for Ellen, not myself.
ATOMIC
Looking from side to side, I stand in front of the building. Nash is at my side, chuckling as he rocks back on his heels. I don’t even look at the old pervert. Instead, I almost laugh, but this isn’t that funny because it’s a fuckton of money gone.
Burned to a goddamn crisp.
“What the fuck?” I ask.
“Firemen say it’s arson.”
I hum, rocking back on my heels this time. We stare at the burned building in silence.
“I’m not sure how I should feel about this,” I admit. “I don’t like losing money, but I also know that it was insured. What I don’t like is the fact that it was arson. That’s a direct attack on our club, no matter what structure was taken out.”
“It is,” Nash grunts. “But I don’t think it was an MC club. I think it was another strip club. We’ve gotten a few threatening letters and shit in the mail. I ignored them because, let’s face it, I’ve had real threats before, and some titty bar owners are not fucking scary.”
“Except now they’ve burned down the building a week before opening night.”
“What are your plans now?” I ask.
“Rebuild,” Nash murmurs.
Turning my head to the side, I stare at his profile. He doesn’t move, focusing on the charred mess in front of us. Then he takes a step backward and looks over at me. He jerks his chin upward, looking down his nose at me.
“You fix your shit with your woman?” he asks.
“Not your fuckin’ business,” I grind out.
Nash lifts his hand and places his fingers on my shoulder, curling them and giving me a gentle squeeze before he shakes me. I know he’s going to go all fatherly advice on me, and right now, I think I welcome it. I don’t have a father any longer, and any advice in this situation would not go amiss.
“Yeah, but the club is my business, and I know you’re struggling. She’s a good woman. What’s the deal?”
I want to shake him. He knows the fucking deal.
He’s known us, Ryan and me, since our beginning.
He knows that she ran, he knows that she kept my kid from me, and he knows that she lies.
She’s lied. She continues to fucking lie.
I can’t trust her ass, no matter how badly I want to fuck said ass… pussy, and mouth.
“She lied. She signed a contract for that fucking pimp. She came to me pretending that her sister had promised her to him, that she had nothing to do with it. And then he showed me a fucking contract. After I killed him, I took the papers to her, and she didn’t deny them. How can I trust her?”
Nash’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t reply. He nods his head once, taking a step forward, then another. He pauses as he lifts his hand, sliding his fingers through his hair before he curls them around the back of his neck.
“Did she lie to you to deceive you?” he asks.
“More like self-preservation, but it doesn’t matter. I cannot trust her. She had plenty of chances to tell me the fucking truth.”
He dips his chin, clearing his throat before he turns his back to his charred building and looks me dead in the fucking eyes.
I don’t know what I see behind his gaze, but there is a lot there.
I’m unsure if he allows me to see it or if I can decipher his expression, but I see a lot of regret swimming behind his eyes.
“Fucked up a lot in my life, Grover. Fucked up with my kid, left him with a woman who he did not need to be left with. Abandoned him and pretended he didn’t exist for my own fucking sanity. It was wrong,” he says.
I nod once. I know what he’s saying. The past is a bitch, and Nash went fucking through it. But he wasn’t the only one, and at the time, it was what he needed. There was no fucking way he was going to be able to take care of King.
“You made it right,” I point out.
He clears his throat, his eyes finding mine. “How do you make something like that right?” he asks, then in the next breath, he continues speaking. “You don’t. You fucking don’t. You spend the rest of your life living that guilt, trying to make it right, knowing you can’t ever do that.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I demand. “I got my kid. I’m going to be here for him.”
Nash dips his chin in a single nod. His gaze stays focused on mine as he speaks. “But at what cost? That kid deserves a family, especially when his parents are fucking in love with one another.”
I could deny his statement. But I don’t want to be a liar. There’s no sense in it, at least not to Nash. If there is anyone, aside from King, who I could tell the whole fucking truth to, it is Nash.
“Fuck this shit,” he announces. “Let’s party. I’ve had my fill of emotional shit and paperwork. Let’s get fucked up. We can worry about bitches and fires tomorrow.”
I like the sound of that. I could use another night to drown myself completely. Not like I haven’t been doing that enough lately. Because I have. Booze mostly, a few clubwhores, and a lot of self-deprivation.
A lot.
“You got this shit with the building under control?” I ask.
“Just need your John Hancock notarized on a few documents, then we’re good to go. We’ll make it bigger, better, classier than it was. Everything will work out in the end,” he murmurs as he climbs onto his bike.
His words hit me, just the last sentence. Will it all work out in the end? That’s pretty fucking confident. I’m sure his club will. That’s an easy fix. But my shit? My woman, my kid? I’m not so fucking sure they’re easy fixes.
Not so sure they will work out in the end.
And what’s the end, anyway? A decade from now, three decades from now?
Fuck.