Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SHORT
Bronwyn and her son are a package deal. If I am going to find a way to make things work, I can’t shirk my responsibilities. That translates to – as neither of us would risk civilian care arrangements while Doc is still at large – it falling to me to watch him while she was at work.
I’d raised the issue at church. There was total agreement that we had to keep them both safe, and everyone was cautious about adding anyone new to the equation. Such as a civilian childminder who might not be able to cope with his needs, or even prove untrustworthy and betray us.
While one suggestion raised was that it might be easier if Bron were to give up her studies and be a stay-at-home mom, I didn’t have to raise an objection.
Bullseye shut that shit down fast, pointing out she’d be all we could rely on if we dispensed with her father’s services, and having her gain all the learning she could was only to our advantage. Therefore, she had to go to work.
When I proposed that Trip spend his time at the club with me while his mother was working, there wasn’t much of a positive response at first. The only brother with experience with kids is Freak, and while he’s happy to offer advice and guidance, he’d already raised one autistic son and didn’t want to get personally involved with another kid.
I couldn’t even accuse Rattler of being his usual obnoxious self when he pointed out the clubhouse was really not the setting for any kid, especially one who was unpredictable, and, though I hate to admit it, inclined to violence if he was overwhelmed or something upset him.
The only alternative was for me to stay home to look after him, but that was something I’d only consider as a last resort.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m way out of my depth, and I’d also be angsty to have an adult conversation, or at least be with people who respond and talk back.
I’m also aware that if I hide away at home, I’m not pulling my weight.
Something I feel I have to do, seeing as we’ve already got one prospect tied up keeping Bronwyn safe.
Bullseye didn’t call an official vote, just listened to the discussions and read the room.
Finally, with a loud sigh, he’d proposed a compromise.
Trip was to come to the clubhouse with me on the first day Bronwyn went back to work.
I’d take full responsibility for him and any potential damage he might cause.
I was to be prepared to take him home immediately if the experiment didn’t work.
So, with the club’s reserved and cautious permission, today was to be the first time I was bringing Trip with me to the club. Thrown into the deep end with the kid, hoping to swim and not sink, as I became his sole carer.
I hadn’t let on to Bronwyn how anxious I was.
She was worried enough for herself as she prepared to take up the reins of being a nurse once again.
I didn’t want to give her extra cause for concern.
So, I’d waved her off at the doorway, taken a deep breath, and then tried to explain to Trip I was taking him out.
At least I hadn’t had to get him dressed or give him breakfast. Bron had done that before heading out.
For a moment, I’d wondered if I was going to fail at the first hurdle, actually getting him to leave the house. To keep their secret, Doc and his wife had kept him isolated in his home, and since he’s been here, we haven’t taken him out.
Collecting his toys together, I’d spoken to him as I would any child, or how I expected I’d approach it, seeing my experience with kids could be written on the back of a postage stamp.
“Hey, kid. Want to go on an adventure? I’ve got to go to work today, and you’re going to come with me to the clubhouse.
Do you remember it? You stayed there for a night before we came to live here.
” I crouch down to his level. “You can take all your cars. I bet there’ll be lots of people eager to play with you.
” I make sure he can’t see I’ve got my fingers crossed behind my back.
Trip does something I don’t expect. He puts his hands over his ears.
Startled, I act like he’s asked me a question.
“You remember that, huh? No, it won’t be loud like the other night.
Most of my brothers will be working, and the music won’t be on.
” I wait for another reaction, but I get none.
“So, what do you say, champ? I’ll show you the motorbikes, maybe even let you sit on mine if you’re good. ”
To my surprise, he picks up the remote-controlled motorbike, which I’ve never been able to master. But it’s not a bad thing to bring along. There might be someone who has the knack, and the clubhouse has far more room in which to try it out.
“Good call, little buddy. We’ll take that with us as well.”
I stand, then, not thinking about what I’m doing, I hold out my hand. When I make a move to draw it back, he grasps it and uses it to help himself up. Then he picks up his motorbike and the teddy bear he never lets out of his sight.
Keeping just a light touch on his fingers, and carrying the box of cars in my other hand, I lead him out of the house and toward my truck.
He clambers into the booster seat I’d purchased for just this reason, and regards me curiously as I belt him up.
Astonished that he seems to have understood at least a good part of what I’ve said to him, I get into the driver’s seat.
A glance in the rearview mirror shows he’s looking around, seeming to take everything in as I drive to the club.
When we arrive, I set him free from his restraints, and he allows me to help him out.
Once again, he takes my hand as I lead him into the club, though he hangs back as we reach the doorway.
I’m about to try and encourage him in, when I see what’s caught his attention. His eyes are fixed on the motorcycles all lined up.
“Wanna go see them?” Of course, he doesn’t answer, so I reply to myself, “Okay then, we’ll start there.”
He tugs at my hand, leading me over in that direction. I’m steeling myself to have to pull him away from my brothers’ rides, so I tell him firmly, “You can look but not touch.”
Once again, he seems to understand me, pausing a short distance from each bike, just studying it studiously. He’s being so good that when he gets to mine, I point to it and then to me. “That’s my bike.”
This time, he does move forward. I’m ready to yank him back, but all he does is pat the seat, and then looks expectantly up.
He fucking remembered what I told him?
How could I deny him when he’s so obviously asked? “Gonna have to lift you up, buddy.”
Taking the chance he’s understood what I said, I put my hands around his slender waist, lift him in the air, and sit him astride my bike.
Then, realising he’s still holding his own motorcycle toy, I take that from him in case he drops it and scratches the custom paint job. I leave his soft bear with him.
I start explaining what everything is, the throttle, the clutch, though I think he zoned out when I described the function of the gears.
And when I pat the handlebars, inviting him to shuffle forward and place his hands on them, there’s that rasping sound from his throat, which I decipher as his attempt at a pleased laugh.
I wonder about starting the engine, then realise the loud roar will probably upset him, so I just let him sit and enjoy himself.
He’s in no hurry to get off. I think he’d stay there all day if I let him, but my conscience is nagging at me, remembering there are a couple of jobs I need to get finished waiting for me in the shop.
“Come on, buddy, time to get off.” Again, I place my hands around him and lift him down.
He makes no protest, just again takes my hand, letting me lead him into the clubhouse, and this time he doesn’t falter.
It’s quiet in here, just as I’d promised him.
Unusually, there are no members in sight.
I’m guessing my brothers made themselves scarce as I was bringing Trip today.
The only person is Heathen who’s sweeping the floor.
After casting a critical glance over his endeavours, I come up with a plan.
“Prospect,” I snap. Then, when he looks around, I beckon him over.
“This is my son, Trip.” I don’t know whether he’s heard all the rumours or is just going with the flow like any good prospect, but he raises his chin and manages not to look surprised.
“See this motorbike he’s holding? Well, this is the remote.
” I pull it out of my pocket. “See if you can get it going to amuse him.” I then pass over the box of cars. “He likes playing with these.”
Heathen’s good at keeping his face expressionless, but he looks stunned now. “You want me to babysit him?” His brows reach his hairline.
“You want your patch?”
His face falls. “Er, yes, Short. Anything you say.”
“I’ll be in the shop, okay? Give me a call if there’s anything you can’t handle.” Then I crouch down. “Trip, Heathen here is going to play with you. If you need me, just…” Tell him? “Well, if you need me, he’ll know, and I’ll come straight away.”
Hoping to fuck I’m doing the right thing, I get back to my feet and let them take me away.
An hour later, I check my phone. No, I haven’t missed anything.
I get back down to trying to pinpoint the reason this bike isn’t running smoothly.
It’s a pig to chase down, and I’m fully engrossed.
When I finally diagnose the problem, I’m chagrined to find another couple of hours have gone by, and still no word from the prospect.
Guilt floods through me. What kind of father am I? One that knows fuck all about keeping a kid entertained, that’s the kind. Worried Heathen might have him hogtied behind the bar, I quickly wash the oil off my hands and go back to find him.