Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Van
My nerves are shot. Today is the day we say our farewells to my ex, my boy’s father, who once upon a time, was my everything.
It’s been baffling for me to differentiate between the man I knew and the one I’ve been told about—at least, the man who he became toward the end of his life.
The childhood stories that have been conveyed with me are closer to the truth of the man I grew to love than the man who backstabbed his friends.
With shaking hands, I try to put my earrings in but they slip from my fingers and land in the basin of the sink, making a clattering noise that has me flinching before glancing up and staring at the reflection of a woman who I don’t recognize, one that has bags underneath her eyes and a frown marring her face.
Sleep last night didn’t come easily for me, I tossed and turned for the entirety of the night as bad dreams plagued me.
Over and over again, I saw him take a bullet to the chest and the life drain from his eyes.
“How do I say goodbye to you, Gage, when I didn’t know who you were?”
Silent tears gather in my eyes before I shake them away.
There’ll be plenty of them shed today, I don’t need to start letting them fall now or I’ll never survive the event.
A knock at the door has me straightening my clothes before deciding this is as good as it’s going to get.
Issy brought me some western wear last night so I’d fit in with the masses—I’ve never worn jeans so tight in my life, but at least they’re somewhat stretchy around the waist so I don’t have to be conscientious about sucking in my belly.
“Coming!” I holler as I jog down the corridor. Lifting up on the balls of my feet, I look through the peep hole and get butterflies in my stomach when I see Riptide standing on the porch. I swing the door open, and breathlessly say, “Hi, Riptide.”
“Hey, Van,” he whistles. “Damn, woman. You should come with a warning label.” He leans over and kisses me, and like always, sparks dance along my lips.
“Thank you. You look handsome yourself.” I take a moment to admire the man standing before me.
He’s in a pair of well-worn jeans that fit him like a glove.
A tight white shirt that shows off his toned physique, a pair of boots that look to be broken in, and his cut laid over his shoulders.
However, what really has me salivating is the curled brim cowboy hat settled on his head.
I never had a thing for cowboys—I’ve always been drawn to the clean cut man but seeing him in this getup has me second-guessing that.
I also never thought I’d be attracted to a biker, but I’ve learned since meeting him that all of my prior fascinations can be tossed to the wayside, because apparently, I didn’t know myself as well as I thought I did.
My earlier idealisms are something I’ve been questioning a lot since rolling into town.
Maybe I read too many romance novels as a teenager, hoping for that white picket fence with two kids and a husband who came home from the office every day, anxious to see me and our children.
But I’ve come to learn that real life can be better than make-believe.
“May I come in?” he asks with a chuckle. “Or would you like me to turn around so you can see the backside?”
“I’ll see the backside as soon as you come inside,” I tease.
“Doesn’t work that way, Van,” he laughs. “Ladies first, so it’ll be me admiring your ass and not the other way around.”
We can add protectiveness and gentlemanly qualities to that check list of attributes I was mentally ticking off about Riptide.
Every time we’ve gone somewhere, or he’s come over to visit me and Gagey, he places his palm on my lower back and guides me into the room, watching over me in case there’s danger lurking in the shadows.
I shake my head but do so with a smile spread across my cheeks. “Okay, okay,” I submit, walking ahead of him. My smile broadens tenfold when I hear the door shut and the lock engage behind me.
“Where’s the little man?” he asks as we get inside the mouth of the hallway.
“He’s still asleep. I was just about to wake him up, change his diaper, get him dressed, then make his milk,” I answer.
“Is his bag ready to go?” he queries.
“Yes, but I still need to grab him some pouches and pack them into his travel lunchbox. I put ice packs in it to keep them cool so they don’t go bad and I still need to prepare it as well as his juice plus milk for the day.”
“Do you have clothes laid out for him, Van?”
I shake my head and advise, “They’re hanging in the laundry room. I washed them last night before we went to bed. You should see the outfit Issy found for him to wear. He even has soft bottom boots to complete the ensemble.”
“I can wake him up and change his butt if you want to grab that and bring it to me,” Riptide offers.
“Are you sure? It won’t take me long to get him and his bag ready,” I state, chewing on my bottom lip.
“It’d be easier if we divided and conquered the tasks, Van. I can handle getting him ready,” he insists.
Joking, I ask, “Have you ever changed a baby before, Riptide?”
“It’s been a few years, but I have. Us older kids used to help with the younger ones growing up. Things couldn’t have changed too much since then,” he scoffs. “The tabs still go on the front and not the back, right?”
“Right,” I drawl out, wishing I had a monitor with a camera to watch this unfold. “They do. Let me get you set up and then I’ll grab his clothes.”
Glancing at Riptide out of the side of my eye as we drive toward the compound, I can’t help but break out into snickers.
“Wasn’t that funny, Van,” he chides, playfully glaring at me.
“If you say so,” I sing song.
“It was a learning curve, one I won’t take lightly and will be prepared for next time,” he conveys.
“How are your taste buds?” I ask, taunting him.
“Minty fresh, after I brushed the taste of urine out of my mouth,” he grumbles. “He’s a quick draw.”
“Which is why I handed you the teepee to place over him,” I remind him. “His aim is questionable sometimes.”
“No, I have to say his aim is true and accurate,” Riptide argues. That statement sets off another round of hysterical giggles for me. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Never,” I titter. “I’ve never seen a man run so fast with a baby held up high in the air as he gagged. It took me a minute to figure out what happened since you wouldn’t talk.”
“I was afraid if I did I’d swallow,” he confesses.
“Oh fuck,” I say, clutching my stomach. “Stop talking, it hurts.”
“Maybe if you didn’t find the whole ordeal hilarious, it wouldn’t hurt so much,” he berates. “As my woman, you should’ve been commiserating with me.”
Those three words have my heart stuttering. My mind can’t help but want clarification. Does he really mean it or was it a slip of the tongue? “Your woman?”
“Yeah, baby. My woman,” he confirms, reaching over the console and lacing his fingers with mine. “You’re feeling this thing between us too, right?”
“I am!” I more or less shout. “I am, Riptide. It’s just, it’s the first time you’ve said that out loud.”
“I’m more of an action man, Van. I show my feelings more than I say them. Are you going to be alright with that?”
“Yes,” I admit, bobbing my head. “Like you, I’m a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. Will it be nice to hear from time to time? Absolutely, but I don’t need you to spend every minute of the day professing your feelings.”
“One day, when we’re both ready, I’m going to put my patch on you, Van.”
“What does that mean, Riptide? Newbie here, remember. I’m still learning the lingo, mannerisms, and status quo behind things the club does.”
“At least you’re not calling my cut a vest anymore,” he chuffs out.
“That’s an improvement in itself. You’re getting the hang of things, Van, so don’t be hard on yourself.
But to answer your question, putting my patch on you lets my brothers and outsiders know that you’re important to me.
It’ll proclaim you as my old lady. It’s the highest honor and praise a man can bestow on his woman. ”
“It almost sounds like ownership, Riptide.”
“In a way it is, baby. But it’s not meant to be demeaning.
” Now I’m making a different sort of check list, one that I think I’ll have to talk to Zoey or Issy about.
They’ll explain things in a different light, one that will be easier for me to understand.
Men seem to beat around the bush when it comes to explanations.
“It’s something I’ll consider,” I declare, peering over at him. “When the time is right.”
“Think about it long and hard, Van. Because I’m not a patient man when it comes to something I want.”
The corner of my lip turns upward as I ask, “And that something you want is me, huh?”
“I’ve got you, Van. Whether you realize that or not. The goal here is to not let you go,” he says, his tone serious and his eyes full of determination.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t want to go anywhere then, isn’t it?”
“Wouldn’t matter if you wanted to or not,” he states.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Parking the truck in front of the clubhouse, he lifts our joined fingers and tilts my head with the tips of our combined fingers, planting a long, lingering kiss on my lips.
When we break apart, my entire being is tingling.
“I’ve claimed you, it just isn’t official yet. ”
His words make me swoon. I didn’t even know that was a real thing until just now. Maybe being owned by him won’t be such a bad thing after all.