Chapter Sixteen—Mortician #4
“It’s different. As fucked up as that sound. No one expected you to patch in.”
Grant snapped his brows together. “I’ve always wanted to patch in.”
“Not in the way you want to.”
“True,” Grant conceded. “I thought about obtaining my degree and being a full-patch club lawyer. But I wouldn’t be on the board as the support CJ needs and I don’t know if I could be just a regular member.”
Mort grinned. “Careful, kid. Your inner Knox shining through.”
“If I get my degree, Dad and Granddad would expect me to follow the path they set for me.”
“You right, little dude.” Kind of like what everyone was doing with CJ. Suddenly, Mort wondered if the kid knew what he actually wanted. It didn’t matter how Mort felt about CJ’s abilities and desire to be in the club, everyone had projected onto that kid for so long, he might not fucking know.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
Grant rocked on his heels. “Have you put these arguments up to Lou and Kaleb? Or are they too young? Will you list all the cons on becoming a Dweller?”
Mort shrugged. “I want them to do whatever make them happy. I’d love for them to join the club. They know it. Still, it got to be there decision. I made my own fucking choices. They can do no fucking less.”
“Do you ever regret joining?”
“My only regret is not taking my son. Tyler.” Even years later, an ache still rose in Mort’s chest when he brought him up. “I should’ve insisted. He might still be alive.”
Grant nodded.
“This life not for everybody, Grant. It’s hard, fast, and brutal.
We have the road. Endless stretches of beautiful land with nothing but the wind in your hair.
We got women. Parties. Brotherhood. Drugs.
Alcohol. Money. Sex. But no freedom’s free.
Not even our kind. You understand me?” He tapped his temple. “Think long and hard about that.”
“I will. I promise.”
Behind him, the door opened. Even before Mort turned and saw her, Bailey’s scent wafted to him and his body came alive. His guard also went up. Last night, when he’d come home to check on her, she’d barely wanted to talk.
“Hey, Bailey,” Grant said, offering her a two-finger greeting, then smiling at Mort. “Thanks for your advice. I appreciate you so much.”
“Any time, little dude.”
Mort waited until the kid walked back to his house and went inside before he turned to his wife.
The first rays of the morning sun surrounded her in a halo, bouncing off her dark hair, and highlighting swaths of deep brown, as it streamed around her.
Although the sash around her waist tied her silk robe together, she clutched the edges of each side.
The way the material fell against her body, Mort knew she wore nothing underneath.
His cock turned to stone. Somehow, he kept himself still, when he only wanted to grab his wife and fuck her hard and deep.
“H-how are you?” she asked hesitantly, so sweet and gorgeous his heart expanded and fell in love with her all over again. “You were gone almost all night.”
“Situations arose,” he said carefully, afraid he’d set her off. “I needed to help Outlaw.”
Her delicate throat worked as she swallowed. “I spoke to Dr. Noys. Rule is very combative. I asked him to get it under control, but he thinks he needs more intensive care.”
“He probably do,” Mort conceded. “Father Wilkins agreed to that?”
“The priest thinks it’s beneficial for all concerned to keep Rule nearby. At least his father and brothers can visit him. If he’s in California, it won’t be as easy.”
“I agree, but maybe, he should talk to Outlaw. He might have temporary guardianship but the little motherfucker a priest. He don’t know nothing about raising a child.”
“Probably not, but he also doesn’t have fifty other children dividing his attention.”
“Just a flock of parishioners.” Mort just managed to bite back his sarcasm. “His attention divided too, Bailey.”
“Meggie called me yesterday. Last night.” Scowling, Bailey drew herself up and a breeze lifted her hair. “We didn’t talk long. My God, what did she want me to say?”
“Do you need anything? I’m sorry for what happened. I’m here for you. Any of those would’ve been nice.”
“I helped Rule. My actions should suffice.”
“You were supposed to help Rule,” Mortician snapped. “You got the fucking expertise and the connections.”
“Which is all I’m good to anyone for.”
Closing his eyes and counting to three, Mort corralled his anger and started over. “Bailey, baby, we all lend our expertise and resources to help each other.”
“She has yet to apologize to me and, suddenly, she thinks she can call me out of the fucking blue because she’s gotten herself into a situation of her making?”
“I’m not dignifying that with a motherfucking answer. No, fuck, yes I am. We all saw Rule deteriorate, and we all ignored it. We the fucking adults. You the fucking psychologist.”
“But not a fucking puppet, ready to jump to Meggie’s demands since she’s always fucking pregnant. It figures,” she ranted. “It’s the women who don’t deserve children who push them out without issue.”
“I get it now, Bailey. Your entire fucking problem with Meggie is you jealous of her.”
She glared at him and color swept over her beautiful skin.
“Maybe, I am, but if I truly wanted to be done with the club, I wouldn’t have helped with Rule.
That isn’t my job.” Lifting her chin, she clutched her robe tighter.
“But I kept thinking about our kids, Lucas. What if Kaleb or Lou tried to hurt Harley or me? Harley and me? What would I do? I kept thinking how grateful I was that it was them instead of us.”
Mort was worn out, so he didn’t want to misread her statement, despite all the other fucking bullshit she’d spouted, so it was best not to comment. He moved on. “I didn’t want that near tragedy to be any of us.”
She didn’t respond.
“I’ve been thinking about Harley, Bailey,” he admitted on a sigh. “Maybe, it’s time we allowed her back. Life so fucking short.”
“No. Not until she apologizes to me.”
His temper spiked again, and he gritted his teeth. “That’s our baby, pretty girl. She need us.”
“Easy for you to say. She didn’t disrespect you to the nth degree.”
“What the fuck you mean? I was the motherfucker she originally disrespected.”
“I’m her mother. I rode hard for her. It’s different.”
Shaking his head, Mort turned his back on her.
He loved his children with everything in him.
Parenting was so fucking important. Yet, without a solid foundation, parents lost themselves in the everyday upheaval.
Mort still couldn’t believe his and Prez’s marriages were near the breaking point under the strain of child rearing.
“I want another baby. Having Harley here will cause too much stress for me, Lucas.”
“You want another baby when we can’t even agree on how to raise the motherfuckers we got?” he asked, lifting his brows.
She lifted her chin. “I’m ovulating.”
“What that mean?” He knew, though. She wanted him to make love to her. After seeing Prez with Jo, Mort wasn’t opposed to a new baby. When he’d agreed they could try, it had been because Bailey wanted it. But shit was just so fucked up between them.
“I’m fertile.”
“And?” he asked, unable to meet her gaze and see her accusation and disappointment.
“What do you mean and?” she asked in a trembly voice.
“Bailey, do you even understand why I was so upset about what you wanted to do to CJ? Do you even care that Meggie girl could use your support and friendship right now? And what about Harley? She a teenager. Chances high she won’t apologize anytime soon to me or you.
But do that mean we just turn our fucking backs on her for the rest of her fucking life? ”
“Of course you bring up Meggie and CJ first even before your daughter, who’s suddenly daddy’s little girl again.”
“Fuck, Bailey! What the fuck you want from me?”
“Fairness! I want you to keep your fucking promise,” she cried. “You swore we’d try for another baby. You swore.”
“Then I fucking lied. I’m not putting a kid in you until you get a fucking clue.
We going around and around about the same motherfucking shit.
Not making a fucking step forward or backward.
Why the fuck we even together at this point?
” he yelled, the words exploding from him.
But once they were out there, he couldn’t take them back.
Fuck, he didn’t want to. He raised his hands in supplication.
“I’m tired, Bailey. I’m tired of fighting for us when you stopped fighting for you.
You damn sure don’t fight for me. You just lost in your misery.
Not even trying. Just throwing bullshit out into the world.
A lack of communication, miscommunication, would be easier than this fucking disconnect.
I don’t know you anymore.” Tears clogged his throat, but he couldn’t t hide his watery eyes or his devastation.
Not that she cared. She didn’t move or say anything.
She merely stared at him. “I don’t know if I want to try to save us anymore.
” He bent and kissed her cheek. “I’m moving out, Bailey. I can’t do this anymore.”
He walked back into the house to pack his things.