Rex
"You look tired."
Rachel, for the first time since the video call with Wynter had begun, relaxed. She released a short laugh as she elbowed me in the side and, to Wynter, not me, said, “He greeted me that way too. I swear I fell for his charm."
Wynter shot her a sheepish grin, but deep in her eyes, I saw the tiny flickers of a flame stirring to life.
A flame that spoke of curiosity, of happiness.
A glimpse at the real Rachel triggered both.
Her desire to know her birth mother hadn’t abated despite my departure.
I’d figured that would be the case, but it was nice to know I was right.
"I am tired," Wynter retorted.
"Aren't you getting enough sleep?"
"Evidently," Rachel sniped. "Otherwise she wouldn't be tired, would she, Captain Obvious?"
I squinted at her. "I'm asking questions without asking questions. Thought you'd be able to read between the lines considering your career choice."
"You wouldn't last two minutes in court. You'd already have ten objections for leading the witness."
"I'm the witness in this scenario?" Wynter joked.
"Most definitely."
I looked down my nose at her. "So, why aren't you sleeping then?"
"Things are up in the air."
"Understandable.” Rachel sniffed. “Ignore Rex. When he was younger, I used to joke that he'd be able to sleep through a bomb blast."
"What changed?"
“Nothing,” I said with a grin. “I could still sleep through a bomb blast.”
“He’s got a dark and dirty conscience," Rachel teased.
“It’s always been dark and dirty," I mocked. “Stop messing with my rep.”
"Always?" Wynter chuckled. "Wow, you must have been a nightmare as a kid."
"He was."
"Now who's being charming?" I grumbled.
Rach smirked. "I didn't sell myself as the charmer here."
"Neither did I."
"You just don't know you're making a sales pitch," she argued.
"You two are different when you're together, aren't you?"
Wynter's comment broke apart a glance that, unbeknown to either of us, went on for a good minute.
Within those sixty seconds, all I fucking knew was that the sparkles of glee in Rach's eyes were back. I felt each one like they were a piece of shrapnel piercing my flesh.
The pain was sweet.
Delicious.
"We like each other," Rachel said primly, her gaze darting to our daughter. "I just forgot that for a while."
"I didn't," I said smugly.
Wynter reached for her drink and took a deep sip. It was a coffee cup from the place she worked at.
My brow furrowed at the sight. "Are you still working at the coffee shop?"
"Of course."
"You don't have to worry about rent anymore. Why do you need a job?"
Wynter huffed. "To earn money to buy things."
"No, is that really what currency is for?" I mocked. "I know what money does, Wynter. I just want to know why you have to earn it now that I'm covering all your expenses."
Rachel elbowed me in the side. "If she wants a job, there's no harm in that."
"No harm? She's not sleeping, her father's in the hospital, she has band and chess club and theater and she's in AP History and Math. When the hell does she have time for a job as a waitress?"
Rachel frowned. "You're in AP Math? Rain is too.”
Though she looked curious at the mention of Rain, Wynter just shrugged. "I like numbers."
"Rex was the same,” Rach said with a smile. "He wasn't in AP Math though."
"I wasn't in many classes," I mocked.
"You skipped school?" Wynter demanded, aghast.
"I did. Many times. They didn't teach me anything I didn't know."
Rachel's nose crinkled. "He sounds bigheaded, but unfortunately, he's being honest. He was reading Plutarch when I was still salivating over Tolkien."
Wynter’s eyes rounded. "Plutarch?"
Rachel reached for the mug of herbal tea she'd brewed before the start of this call. It smelled like lawn, but when I’d told her that, she’d blamed my kid for the no-caffeine rule and, wisely, I’d shut my mouth.
Both of us looked normal from the waist up, but she wore no pants, and I wore a pair of boxer briefs that I’d been ecstatic to find in a drawer in our room.
What the kid couldn’t see, wouldn’t hurt her.
"He used to read it in Ancient Greek." Rachel took a deep sip. "Didn't you?"
"I used to," I agreed, folding my arms across my chest. "Little rusty now. But stop trying to change the subject, Rachel."
She huffed. "If Wynter wants to run herself ragged, that's her choice."
"I'm not running myself ragged," Wynter argued. "I can cope."
"You know what the dictionary definition of 'cope' is?" I answered before she could speak, "To deal effectively with something difficult."
"You’ve out-argued yourself," Rachel pointed out. “’Effectively’ is the key word there.”
"No, ‘deal with’ and ‘difficult’ are," I argued.
"You bicker a lot. I didn't see that before."
Rachel’s tone was dismissive. “We don't bicker."
"It's how we roll," I disagreed, unfolding my arm from across my chest and slinging it over her shoulder. "Anyway, Rach was on her best behavior. I bring out the wild side in her."
Wynter grinned. "This is the wild side?"
"Rachel's ability to rebel was stunted at birth," I teased.
She elbowed me in the side again. "It was not. We weren't all princes to an MC legacy. Even at fifteen you could get away with murder."
I winked. "I wasn't an overachiever like you."
She sniffed but ignored me to ask, "How's your father, Wynter?"
I controlled my expression by the grace of God.
"He's not doing too well," was our daughter's careful response.
So the fucker was still breathing.
What a shame that was.
Grunting under my breath at the thought, I watched as Rachel asked the right questions, smoothing over my lack of interest in Jeremy Kinnock's mental and physical health.
It was an interesting shift—I'd been playing this part for her since we'd started holding these video calls but she'd picked up the mantel now that we were together again.
It made me wonder what else would change now that we were together.
Knowing how damn smart she was, I didn’t worry, but I was curious.
"Are you mad at me for staying?"
The question, uttered hesitantly, had me tuning back into the conversation.
For a moment, I thought Wynter was asking me, but she wasn't.
"I understand why you stayed,” was Rachel’s careful response.
"That isn't an answer."
"She's a lawyer.” I attempted to shield Rach. "Evasive answers are in her blood."
Wynter smirked, but Rachel's hand grabbed mine. I thought her nails were going to burrow through the back of my hand, but though her grip was tight, her voice wasn't:
"If you feel your place is there, then who are we to argue with that?"
"So, you believe I have the right to choose?" Wynter asked carefully.
"Yes." Rachel paused. "Even if it's the wrong choice." I didn't know why, but once she'd uttered those words, she reached up and rubbed at her temple. "I guess I need to start practicing what I preach."
"What? Why?" Wynter queried, her brow furrowed with concern.
"My brother wants to enlist. I got into an argument with him over it." She pulled a face. "I was trying to convince him that enlisting was his dad’s, my stepfather's, dream."
"Was it?"
She grimaced. "Yes. But I can't have one rule for Rain and one rule for you. You're pretty much the same age. Rain's closer to graduating, but that doesn't mean anything. You're both almost adults.”
"My mom doesn't have the same opinion as you."
Rachel cast me a glance. "How did Ally react to your presence in LA?"
"Mostly, she ignored me, but I stayed out of her way."
“Before the thing, you know, with the, um, the Triads—” Wynter cleared her throat. "She wasn't happy about you being here. She called me every night to plead with me not to talk to you."
I tensed but managed to hold my tongue.
Fuck, I was almost proud of myself for accomplishing that feat.
Rather than comment, I just grunted.
"You didn't listen?"
"No. Rex... King, he showed me a side of himself that let me believe he was capable of everything Mom said, but I still wanted to get to know him anyway."
Rachel blinked. "Why? I can't imagine Ally's tales were pleasant."
"They weren’t," Wynter confirmed the worst. "But it's hard to associate the man with a small militia under his command with the same guy who practically force-fed me every time we met up."
Rachel smiled. “He’s like that. Gets under your skin.”
“Like a parasite. Great!”
She peeped a grin at me. “You have your ways about you, Rex. Laker girls are particularly susceptible to them.”
My nose crinkled but Wynter’s gleeful laugh took away any embarrassment on my behalf.
“What else did you like about Rex?” Rachel asked, her hand tightening around mine, this time in a silent warning to shut up. Something she compounded with a swift glare.
Wynter’s cheeks were hot as she said, “He talks about things adults don’t share with kids. At least, not in my family. He was open and honest, and when Mom was telling me he was a bad man and that I should do my best to cut him out, all I knew was that…”
“What, honey?”
She stared down at her lap. “Mom said that Dad was a good man, but he isn’t. Is he?”
“No.”
I definitely deserved a reward for keeping that answer short and sweet.
“No,” she agreed. “He was going to use me to pay off his debts. He’s beaten Mom; he’s cheated. King told me that you were it for him. Have you cheated on Rachel?”
“No.”
Rach squeezed my hand.
“Have you cheated on King, Rachel?”
“No.”
“Would you ever beat her?”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” I grumbled. “And before you ask, I’d sell myself before I’d sell you.”
“And, Rachel, is that the man you know? Those words aren’t BS, I mean, are they?”
“No, they’re not. On the outside, he’s this rough Sinner who’ll kill and steal and trade in things that he should be locked up for. But he’s the best kind of man, Wynter. He always was.”
Wynter nodded. “I knew all that before everything went down. I-I went with my gut, I guess.”
I squeezed Rach’s hand and said, “Wynter, we need to talk to you about something.”
Rachel shot me a look then, seeming to realize what was going on, blanched.