Chapter 48 #2
We’ve painted inside and out, removed the old carpet, and polished the old wooden flooring, which turned out as well as I’d expected.
I’ve a kitchen to die for now, with brand-new appliances, and likewise the bathroom and half-bath have had new suites installed.
We hadn’t bothered while redecorating, but once that job was done, we replaced all the second-hand furniture.
We might not stay here forever. Freak and Saint have plans for building houses for themselves on the land owned by the club, and Short’s quite interested in following suit. I love it here, but could be wooed by the idea of designing my own home. But that’s for the future.
Trip? Well, he’s coming on in leaps and bounds.
He loves his school, which caters for kids in the mainstream, but also has separate classes for children with special needs.
His therapist had explained to me that there isn’t really one word to describe his condition.
He is on the autism spectrum, but even that wasn’t really a definition, as it manifests in so many ways.
His slow intellectual development could be put down to his being a product of incest or the way he was brought up during those first eight years. I’m inclined to think it’s the latter.
He’s now started reading, helped by picture books, and even I’m impressed by how far he’s come in six months. Best of all, he’s started talking.
Again, encouraged by the therapist, Short and I started asking him to vocalise what he wanted. Once his brain processed he wasn’t going to get punished for making sounds, he began to name more and more objects, and, joy of joys, regularly started calling me Momma.
It’s actually Dum, or maybe it’s Dee, who helps him when we go to the club.
They’re illiterate themselves, and asked him to help them by reading them books, early readers like Moon Zoom.
He painstakingly traces each word with his finger, helping both him and whichever prospect it is.
He’s more enthusiastic to practice his homework with them, as he thinks he’s giving them something.
How far he’ll go is a question no one can answer, but Short and I are determined to give him every help we can.
Of course, the last few months have not been completely plain sailing.
Six weeks after the MDMC had attacked, in the early New Year, Heathen, who’d lost his life defending the club, was finally laid to rest in a grave Dee and Dum dug for him.
Kings who’d been involved with the new build returned for his send-off, as did Kings from other chapters.
It was a sad occasion, Words barely able to give the eulogy, his voice cracking as he described the life of the man whom they’d lost. His wake included a posthumous patching in ceremony, and he was buried along with his cut, with the full set of back patches sewn onto it.
The celebration of his life had started out sombre, then as it extended into the night, the brothers had become rowdy, as if to acknowledge they were alive. I’d taken Trip home pretty early, but Short had stayed. When one of the prospects delivered him home, he was as drunk as I’d ever seen him.
We’ve been lucky in some ways. The MDMC hasn’t retaliated after their failed take-down of the club, and the decimation of the men they sent to attack us.
While I’m not savvy on club business, I’ve heard the name Rivera Cartel mentioned more times than I’d like, but if they, too, heaven forbid, are gunning for the club, so far, they’ve made no move.
Not that they’d find it easy. The club certainly hasn’t been complacent.
Reinforced steel fences now surround the compound, and the level of security Pippa’s set up would keep even the POTUS safe from their enemies.
The water’s gone cold in the bowl. Shaking my head, I realise I must have been lost in my daydreams for quite a while. Rinsing the last plate, I place it to the side, then dry my hands on the towel. It’s as I’m doing that, I hear the unmistakable sound of Short’s motorbike coming up the road.
Anxiously, I turn my eyes to the clock, wondering how much time I’ve wasted, only to note it’s not yet lunchtime. Grinning, I wonder if he’s gotten desperate and is sneaking out early for a quickie.
When the door opens, I swing around in expectation, but it’s clear it’s not sex on his mind. He doesn’t waste a moment before informing me, his eyes bright and sparkling, “Pippa’s gone into labour. We’re all going to the hospital. You coming?”
“Of course!” I tell him excitedly, looking around for my phone and bag.
“Get your helmet. You’re on the back of my bike.”
I roll my eyes. “First babies can take hours. I’ll bring my car. Then I can go get Trip from school later.”
“They do?” His genuine surprise suggests he's not joking.
“You haven't been around babies before?” When he shakes his head, I ask, “What about Ace? Wasn’t he born during your time with the Kings?”
“Babe, we didn’t even know Freak had a kid on the way until he came in one day carrying Ace.”
“What about Ace’s mom?” I’d often wondered why she wasn’t around, and why he lived with Freak’s mother.
“Fuck knows,” he says, then warns me, “it’s Freak’s story to tell, and so far, he hasn’t told it.” I take the hint and cease the questions.
Falling in line with my suggestion we should be on four wheels, we take his truck, rather than my car.
In no time, we’re joining all his brothers in the waiting room.
Apart from me and Trixie, there’s a very masculine vibe.
After getting to know the club, I’m not surprised when they start a betting pool on whether it will be a boy or a girl.
Saint and Pippa hadn’t wanted to find out, which apparently, some of them find peculiar.
“Did you know you were having a boy?” Rattler innocently asks me.
They know my story, but have apparently glossed over some of the details. “I didn’t even have a scan,” I respond.
Short places his hand over mine, which are clenched together. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I should have known this would be triggering for you. I just thought you’d want to be here, seeing as you’re friends with Pippa.”
I don’t hide how I feel. “I should have had this.” I indicate his brothers milling around.
“Friends, family who cared about me. A hospital, pain relief, and a proper midwife. But I had nothing. I didn’t even understand what was happening to me.
It hurt so much, I thought I was going to die.
” Normally, I don’t dwell on it, but being here’s bringing it all back.
“Dad wasn’t even an obstetrician. He put Trip at risk. ”
He pulls me into his arms. “I think we ought to leave.”
“No,” I quickly tell him. “Maybe it’s part of my healing to see how it could have been, if I’d got proper treatment. Though let’s face it, if I’d come in as a pregnant fourteen-year-old girl, it wouldn’t have been simple. The police would have been here to question me.”
“Let’s hope my brothers do nothing to get the police here today. They better behave themselves.”
His dry tone, suggesting he’s not completely joking, lightens the mood.
The hours go past as I’d predicted from my own experience and my rotations on the maternity ward. Soon we have to leave if we’re going to collect Trip from school. Short makes our apologies and gets promises they’ll contact us if the baby’s born.
Short’s quiet when we get into his truck, overly so, prompting me to ask what’s bothering him.
After giving me a sideways glance, he grimaces. “I’ve just been wondering whether you’d ever do that again. Would you like another baby, Bron?”
It might seem strange, but I’ve never considered it. Or rather, have only thought about it in terms of a solid fuck no. I’ve never had reason to want to go through all that pain and torture again.
Now it hits me, I’m in a relationship, and this isn’t just about me. “Do you want us to have a baby?”
He reaches out and clasps my hand, squeezing it firmly.
“This isn’t about me. But if you want my answer, I never saw myself with a family, never thought about being a dad, until I was thrust into it when you and Trip came along as a package deal.
Trip’s my son, and I’ll be content with just him.
But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have another child to add to our family.
” He breaks off and takes a deep breath.
“You went through something horrendous, so if you don’t want to have a baby with me, I understand.
But if you wanted to try, well, I’d be amenable to that too. ”
Twin feelings go through me. The first, my normal resounding NO.
Never, uh uh, the fear, seeing my body change and not understanding what was happening to me, the sickness my mom and dad told me to get on with, the strange cravings that were never pampered to.
And the birth… I want to vomit at just the thought of going through it all again.
Then I glance at this strong man who’s stood by me and Trip.
I couldn’t have a baby out of any feeling of obligation toward him; that would only put me under similar pressure again.
But when I think of a baby conceived out of love, part of us both, something we both wanted, and knowing he’d be there beside me every step of the way.
Well, maybe I might be persuaded to change that no. Not yet, though.
“Can I think about it?” My voice is cautious.
“No pressure, darlin’. I want what you want.” Again, he squeezes my fingers, and just like that, the conversation is over.
We collect Trip. Going to school is working wonders for him. It’s still up in the air as to whether he understands the emotions he doesn’t express. But when I ask how his day went, he actually smiles as he nods his head.
“Good?” I ask. Again, he dips and raises his chin. “Words, Trip.”
“G-g-good.” I reward him with a look of pleasure, which gets him to respond. “I drew a picture.”
“Did you bring it home?”