Chapter 29 #2
Opening the door to the clubroom, I come to an abrupt halt.
The room that was empty earlier now has more bodies in it.
I step forward, then jump back as a toy motorcycle comes hurtling toward me, turning only at the last minute.
That gasping rattling laugh reaches my ears, bringing my attention to Trip.
It’s then that I see Paint, standing beside him, holding the remote control.
Trip’s more animated than I’ve ever seen him. He’s jumping up and down and prodding Paint in the leg. An action my brother seems to interpret as instruction to send the bike toward me again.
“It’s my fuckin’ turn.” Rat snatches the control from Paint.
He’s not so successful, and the bike topples over.
Undeterred, Trip wanders across to right it, and Rattler tries to get it moving again.
Internally, I’m preening, pleased my brother has as little of the knack of steering it as I do.
But then Woody takes over, and that darn motorcycle makes two perfect circuits of the room.
“Boys, snack time.” Trixie walks in like a waiter in a posh restaurant, carrying a laden tray at shoulder height.
She places it down near Trip, and then puts her…
wait, what am I seeing? I rub my eyes to check I can believe it.
She has her arm around him and is guiding him to the table where she left the food.
“Better dig in quick,” she warns him. “Otherwise, these fuckers will eat it all up.” She then carefully loads his plate with a slice of pizza, chips, and half a sandwich. Trip immediately starts to wolf it down, one little hand protecting his plate as if someone’s going to steal from him.
Fingers dig into my shoulder. “Knew it was a bad fuckin’ idea to have the kid here,” Saint growls in my ear.
“These brothers should be out working, yet he’s got them all here fuckin’ playing.
” Automatically, I start to apologise, then see his face, and know he’s fucking with me.
He slaps my back and tells me, “Kid’s quiet, but I’ve no problem with that.
But otherwise, it appears he’s no trouble. ”
I’m pleased he’s getting on so well, but also feeling redundant.
Thinking I should at least show him some attention – not that it seems he needs me – I make my way over to him.
Immediately, Trip puts down his empty plate of food, slides off his chair, runs to me …
and he fucking hugs my legs. I’m in danger of fainting.
“Aww, he knows his daddy,” Rattler says.
And me? Well, I’m over the moon.
Encouraging him to sit back down, I make myself a plate of food. Woody moves so I can take the chair beside my kid. “So, you’re having a good day?” I grin at him, then, not expecting an answer, I glance at Trixie, mouthing thank you.
“He’s no trouble,” Trixie repeats. “Quieter than the rest of these noisy fuckers.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark.” Paint looks up in mock disgust, while Winchester pokes him.
“She’s got you pegged, Bro,” Winchester remarks, probably without realising what he’s said.
Saint pretends to gag, “I don’t fuckin’ need that visual.”
It doesn’t help that Paint goes bright red. I guess it’s with anger, but could easily be misread.
Rattler takes advantage. “Brother’s probably wearing a butt plug right now.”
Woody holds his stomach as he laughs and manages to blurt out, “I thought Paint was looking uncomfortable.”
“Brothers,” I say, leaning toward Trip. I cover his ears with my hands. “Keep it age-appropriate, please.”
“Aww, fuck, sorry kid,” Woody apologises.
While Rattler says, “Doubt he even knows what a butt plug is.”
Trip’s making his throaty grunting noise again, which I can’t do anything but interpret as a laugh. I just hope it’s because of the general mocking going around the table, and that he’s got no idea what the mirth is really about.
Just when I think the conversation has finished, Trixie moves to Paint, leans over him, and says in a stage whisper, “Sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to out you for your kink.”
“Bitch,” Paint snarls, but pulls her down onto his lap. He nuzzles her neck and says deceptively gently, “Guess who’s going to end up with something up their ass. One hint, babe, it ain’t going to be me.”
Pushing my now-empty plate away, I stand. “Hey, Trip, want to come see where I work?” I give a stern look at the men sitting around the table. “And you lot, better start thinking about how to behave around a kid before Pippa spits Saint’s spawn out.”
Saint, who’s been laughing along with the rest, sobers quickly. “Good point, Short. She’ll kick everyone’s ass.”
“Jeez, why did you have to go and say that, Short?” Paint shudders.
“Bunch of fuckin’ pussies.” Rattler shakes his head. “We’re a fuckin’ one-percenter biker club, not nannies in a fuckin’ nursery.”
“Could have fooled me,” I toss over my shoulder as I lead Trip out. “Wasn’t it you playing with a toy motorbike?” I quickly leave before I hear what he calls me.
Another surprise awaits when I find Trip is interested in the shop and the work I’m doing.
He watches me intently as I make adjustments to the bike I’m working on, then, without thinking, I turn on the engine and rev the throttle to check how it’s now firing.
Realising my mistake, I quickly glance at him.
Sure, he’s placed his hands over his ears as the noise resonates loudly, but other than that, it doesn’t seem to upset him.
Maybe it’s just loud voices or people shouting?
Thinking about it, that would make sense.
As I work, I talk to him, explaining exactly what I’m doing. After repeating the process of adjusting and checking, I’m happy the bike’s now running smoothly.
“That’s sorted. What do you think, buddy?”
Trip’s answer is to clap his hands.
My phone rings. I’m still grinning at Trip’s reaction as I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Bronwyn.
“Hey, darlin’. You doing okay?” She’s still at the hospital, and I hope nothing’s happened to upset her.
“I’m good. How’s Trip?” There’s a hesitancy in her voice, but I quickly reassure her, he’s been good, no meltdowns, and everything’s really a-okay.
She starts to excitedly explain the reason for her call.
She’s found a therapist for Trip, and not only that, but an appointment’s already been made for later on today.
She wanted to check the logistics with me, but of course, I’ve no problem with bringing him to meet her.
I’m fucking over the moon she’s arranged something so quickly.
Today’s shown me there’s more to Trip than we ever imagined, and it’s emphasised the need for having professional help so we can support him to the best of our ability.
“Short.” Just the way she says my name has me worrying. In the short time we’ve been together, it seems I’ve learned to read her.
“What is it?” I ask fast.
There’s a pause, then she asks, “How will I pay her?”
I chuckle and remind her by asking, “Are you, or are you not my ol’ lady?”
She hesitates, then responds, “Well, not really—”
“Bron,” I say sharply. “You are to me. Which means I cover all of yours and Trip’s expenses. Won’t hurt me none, I assure you. I can afford it. And this is an opportunity we can’t pass up.”
We finish by confirming the time I’m to meet her at the hospital. Glancing at the clock after I’ve ended the call shows I’ve got to clean up and leave soon.
“Hey, Trip, come on. We’ve got to go meet your momma.”