Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
REX
A rerun of a Dr. Phil episode had inspired last night’s ‘intervention.’
Lying flat out in bed, my head tilted down as I flipped through the channels in my hotel room, I’d started watching shows that’d never normally interest me.
Answering Rachel’s call yesterday evening had probably been an idea that stemmed from being bored with what I was watching, but reflecting upon that conversation until I fell asleep made me realize I owed Dr. Phil my gratitude.
She’d suggested the daily calls. Not me.
She’d agreed to a daily Q&A.
It was a step forward rather than back.
For years, I’d let her dance farther and farther away from me because I knew just how fragile she was, because I knew work was her therapy and that if I pushed shit, she’d walk away.
If I hadn’t told Drew a week ago that pussies were used to being pounded, I’d have called myself one for how I’d let her get away with this half-life relationship we had.
Well, no more.
Dad’s death was making me reconsider things. He’d lived his final chapter, but I was halfway through my goddamn story and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my fucking days filled with regrets.
It wasn’t like Rachel was even living her best fucking life.
That was the worst of it.
She was as miserable as I was, and we were getting nowhere.
That step forward for us was badly needed, and even though the weight of grief was still heavy on my shoulders, when I got up the next morning and took a shower, I felt brighter than I had since I left West Orange.
I was going to speak with my daughter today, and later on, my woman.
Because Rachel was that.
I’d told her that if this didn’t work out, we’d move on, but fuck, there was no moving on without her.
She was it for me.
My fucking everything.
I just needed her to realize that we were each other’s goddamn everything.
As I washed up, I flicked through the clothes I’d bought yesterday. I felt like an asswipe but I wanted to make the best impression with my kid and figured that her limited view yesterday could be an advantage today.
Out of respect for the Disciples, I wasn’t going to wear my cut, and that’d be the first time in years that I was without the battered leather vest. That meant I could look semi-respectable when we met up.
Once I was done in the shower, I pulled out the razor I’d bought yesterday too. Before I could get started, my cell rang in the other room.
I’d allowed notifications from her so I knew from the ringtone alone who was calling.
Sucking in a breath, giving myself a quick pep talk that consisted of me telling myself not to fuck this up, I rushed to grab it then hit the answer button and put it on speaker.
“Rex?”
Her voice sounded like I felt—brighter.
I smiled because I wanted every day to start this way—her voice in my ear—and I murmured, “Hey Rach.”
“I figured you’d be getting up soon so I thought I’d—”
A chuckle escaped me. “Rach, are you nervous?”
She hissed. “Don’t you dare laugh.”
Smirking, I unplugged the phone from the charger then retreated to the bathroom. “You forget I’m not scared of you.”
“No one’s scared of me,” she dismissed.
“You’d be surprised,” I drawled.
“Like who?”
“Most of the MC.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m not,” I informed her as I squirted shaving cream into my palm. “If they didn’t grow up knowing you, they’re all scared of you. You’re as cold as ice with them, remember?”
She didn’t answer that. “What are you doing?”
“Why?”
“I can hear a weird noise.”
“I’m shaving.”
“I hope our daughter realizes she’s one of the privileged few who’s worthy of her father shaving.”
I knew she was teasing, but the words spilling from her lips did shit to my insides.
Our daughter.
Her father.
Such simple goddamn labels, but nothing was simple for us. She’d said it herself last night—we were born complicated.
I sheepishly grinned into the mirror and said, “I’d shave for you.”
“Since when? I get stubble burn every time we kiss.”
“Mostly because we only do quickies. If I planned it, you wouldn’t.”
A soft sigh came down the line. “I wouldn’t?”
“No.”
She hummed. “Interesting.”
My lips twitched again though it was, technically, a testy subject. After all, sex wasn’t something we did regularly. Even if it meant my balls were perennially blue.
“Interesting?” I taunted. “Next time, I’ll make sure my cheeks are as smooth as a baby’s ass.”
Silence.
She gasped. “Then I need you to promise you’ll go down on me.”
Eyes flaring, inwardly cheering her on because I knew how this kind of talk was hard for her, I continued, “Oh, sweetheart, don’t you worry. That’s guaran-damn-teed.”
Another gulp. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“Au contraire.” I arched a brow at my reflection as I returned to my shaving. “I think we should. We’re laying everything on the table, aren’t we? Sex is a part of that. In fact, for a long time, it’s the only way we’ve connected on a personal level.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I-I know that’s something I haven’t allowed.”
“You haven’t allowed much sex, either,” I said dryly.
“N-No.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Rachel. I wasn’t laying blame.”
“No, I know, but still—”
As the razor cut through my stubble, I murmured, “Something traumatized you, baby. Something that I need to understand and that I want you to explain. I said it last night: I could have found out myself. But I’ve been waiting all this time for you to tell me because my knowing doesn’t help you.
I need to know where your head is at as we talk about this. ”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me either.”
She heaved a sigh. “King?“
“Yeah?”
“Someone…” She hesitated.
“Someone?”
It came out in a rush, which reminded me of the girl she’d once been. All nerves and anxiety. Stuttering starts to conversations and her nose always buried in a book.
Once upon a time, she hadn’t been the polished attorney who was capable of wreaking havoc in the courts of the land.
She’d been an awkward girl who’d morphed into an awkward teenager.
I couldn’t say she’d been an ugly duckling who’d turned into a swan because she’d always been pretty. She’d just been weird too.
I liked weird. Always had.
“Link said you didn’t fuck Peach. That you used to play chess together.”
Making a mental note to beat on Link, I merely said, “That’s not a question.”
Rach swallowed. “Is that true?”
“Would it change anything if it wasn’t?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you asking?”
I scraped away, revealing cheeks that hadn’t been smooth in years. There were more lines than the last time I’d done this, and it merely rammed home that I wasn’t getting any fucking younger.
“Because I’d like to know?”
“Would you tell me if you’d been fucking anyone else?”
She scoffed, “You know I haven’t. If I’d gone on any dates, you’re saying you wouldn’t have had me followed?”
She had me there.
“You could have dated when you went into the city.”
Another scoff. “I’ve seen my tail and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that Emile spies on me for you.”
“It’s for your protection.”
“Don’t doubt that it is, but I’m pretty sure they report back too.”
I pursed my lips. “I haven’t fucked anyone but you since we started dating.”
There.
Everything was laid out on the table.
Her gulp was audible again. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
“Oh, King,” she whispered. “I love you too.”
“I know you do.”
“I wish I could tell you the same…”
Pain and understanding twisted together and unraveled inside me. “I wish, for your sake, you could too, sweetheart.”
After a couple seconds of quiet, she requested, “If she’ll let you, would you get a picture together for me?”
“I’ll ask.”
“Promise?”
I half-smiled. “Promise. I’ve finished.” I raised the camera to the mirror and took a photo then sent it to her.
“Jesus, it’s been years since I’ve seen you like that.” A short laugh escaped her, but it sounded soggy too. “You always were beautiful.”
Snorting, I groused, “I’m not beautiful.”
“You are,” she countered. “Men can be beautiful.”
I just rolled my eyes.
“What are you wearing?”
“I bought some cargo pants yesterday and a—”
“You?! In cargo pants?” she blustered.
“This is definitely a parallel universe. I just want to make a good first impression.”
I might have fucked that up already with our initial meeting, but that didn’t mean I had to stop trying.
“By lying to her?” she joked. “Hell, you haven’t been in anything other than jeans since the first day we met.”
“I’ve worn surf shorts to go swimming in,” I grumbled.
“That doesn’t count. You wear jeans whether it’s a hundred degrees outside or ten.”
“A Prez has to have some standards.”
She snickered. “Apparently. You going to meet her looking like a Ken doll is tantamount to a lie.”
I sniffed. “She’s meeting with a stranger. I’d prefer her not to be terrified of me when I roll up looking like my reputation precedes me.”
“You have a point.”
“Imagine that,” I grouched, deciding that no way in hell was I going to tell her that I’d bought a Polo shirt too.
It was definitely alien territory, but if it gave Wynter a modicum of comfort then it’d be worth it.
“You going to wish me luck?” I asked.
“I don’t think you’ll need it. She’s my daughter after all. She’s going to fall head over heels for you.”
My lips twitched. “That’s Greek-tragedy level weird.”
She huffed. “You know what I mean.”
I did.
“Just being a jerk.”
“Imagine that,” she said, throwing my mocking words back at me. “But, if you want it, good luck.”
“Thank you, Rach.”
“Take care?”
I hummed. “I will. You too. We’ll speak later.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she told me as she quietly ended the call.
A quick glance at the time made me realize I needed to haul ass, but when I headed out to the coffee shop fifteen minutes later, I was already early.