Chapter 10
Irish
I saw the hurt on Sutton’s face when she tried to hide it, I truly did.
But I was still thinking about things.
Why did she want me?
That had been running through my head almost every single minute of every single day ever since she told me what she did.
But even though I couldn’t figure out the situation between me and Sutton, I could do it for my daughter, and I would.
Even if I never claimed Sutton, she would always be Maisie’s mother.
There was no one else on this earth that I had met in my thirty years of life who could do it better than she did.
We all gathered around the dining room table as I helped Sutton carry everything to the table.
I had just sat down when my phone rang.
I sighed, then pulled it out, and when I saw it was Cynnamin’s name, I glared.
What the fuck was going on now.
I answered, “Cynnamin, what’s going on?”
What I missed was that Sutton’s body tensed.
Her teeth clenched.
And her hands fisted.
“I need your help. I’m close to doing it again. Can I come to you, Irish? Please?” If it weren’t for the tears in her voice, I would have said no that she needed to confide in someone who was close to her.
I sighed, “Yeah, come on. Call me when you make it to the clubhouse. I’ll meet you there.” I said and then hung up the phone.
Sutton gasped, then her eyes narrowed, then she stood, stepped to Maisie’s side, kissed her forehead, then she stepped to my side, opened her mouth, then closed it, and then she did something I never thought she would do.
She grabbed my plate that I had yet to touch, walked it over to the trash can, and dropped it in.
Then I sat there as I watched Sutton storm out of the house without a backward glance.
Then I looked at Maisie and asked, “Well, I guess she made her point, you want to share your food with me?”
She narrowed her eyes at me and tugged her plate closer to her chest.
Guess that answered that question.
Why? Why the fuck had I answered my damn phone?
Jesus Christ.
Why was I taking the woman that has been there for me for granted?
And as many times as I had asked myself that singular question.
I just keep fucking doing it.
Come the fuck on brain, make up your goddamned mind.
Either you fucking want Sutton, or you don’t.
***
When my phone rang, I took the call, “Yeah?”
“I’m here,” Cynammin said.
I nodded, then said, “Be there in fifteen.”
Once I made it to the clubhouse, I headed to Sutton’s room, hoping she wouldn’t hold it against me right now, and thought about what I could say if she did.
Thankfully, or rather not, Sutton wasn’t in there.
I sighed as I placed Maisie in Sutton’s room, where she had things already there.
She snuggled into the blanket that Sutton used, sighed, and whispered, “I miss Mommy.”
I knew she was talking about Sutton, and when I really thought about it, I realized that I did, too.
With Maisie tucked safely in Sutton’s bed, I headed to my room and saw Cynnamin standing there with pale cheeks.
I sighed, unlocked my door, and held it open for her.
***
It was two hours later after I moved Maisie to my bedroom, I found myself on a stool at the bar. My brothers were drinking their drinks for their own reasons.
But I was drinking whiskey like it was water.
I couldn’t keep hurting Sutton like I was.
She didn’t fucking deserve it.
I thought as I took another shot.
And I didn’t deserve her.
But fuck.
When the fuck would I ever find another woman like Sutton?
That would be never.
Because she was one of a kind.
Absolutely one of a fucking kind.
I closed my eyes, and then it hit me... her words... fucking everything. Seeing her in a wedding dress. My rings on her finger. Her name tangled with mine.
Why the fuck had I been pushing her away all these years?
Son of a bitch.
She was it for me.
The one.
My forever.
What I didn’t know was that I should have stopped at the third drink... I hadn’t.
And that was when my phone pinged with a text.
And when I got a look at the picture attached to the message. I. Saw. Fucking. Red.
But before I could fully process everything, I saw Maisie coming down the hall, at the same time, the front door opened, and there stood Sutton.
She looked at the bottle on the bar, then at the glasses, then looked at Maisie and sighed.
Sutton
I smiled at Maisie and said, “Come on, let’s get you home.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” I looked at Irish and watched as he narrowed his eyes.
I lifted a brow, “Why not?”
He sneered, what the fuck, “You’re not taking my daughter anywhere.”
“Your daughter?” I couldn’t hide the hurt in my tone.
Slurring, he said, “Yeah. She’s mine.”
I glared, “You told me she was mine too.”
He scoffed, “Didn’t see you carrying her for nine months, Suutttttonnnnn.”
Maisie frowned and gripped my hand harder, “But daddy? You told me I could call Sutton mommy. So, I am hers.”
He sneered, “Then she shouldn’t have slept with Pagan and cheated on me.”
I gasped, “What are you talking about?”
Cheated on him? Has he lost his ever-loving fucking mind?
If you look at it, he was the one cheating on me.
What a dickhead.
That was when he grabbed his phone, did something on it, and then showed me a picture of a woman with Pagan plowing into her.
What the fuck?
“I want you out of my life.” Irish glared.
I lifted a brow and asked, “Were you drunk before or after you got that picture?”
“Nopppeeeee.” He slurred.
And then it hit me: he was using this as an excuse to get rid of me. He knew how I felt about him.
But never mind that, he wasn’t the man I thought he was. No, he was a coward.
Shaking my head, trying not to let the tears fall from my eyes, I dropped to my knees and pulled Maisie into my arms.
In her ear, I whispered, “I’m going to go away for a while, sweet girl. I don’t want you to think that any of this is your fault. If you ever want to talk to me, all you have to do is ask Aunt Gabby or Aunt Adeline. Okay?”
She wiped the tears from her eyes, nodded, then wrapped her little arms around me and held me close, well as close as a five-year-old could manage.
Then I stood, wiping away my tears, and leveled my gaze at him, “You’ve gone too far this time, Irish. Too fucking far.”
He sneered, “No, it’s you who doesn’t deserve me. I’m not the one whose damaged goods.”
If they ever say their heart can’t break anymore, well, then they haven’t had their heart broken. Truly and utterly destroyed.
All around us, the men of Zagan MC started to growl; curses flew. Chairs were slammed back, and fists pounded on the bar and the tables.
With tears in my eyes, I asked, “Is that how you really feel? Why you won’t make me yours.”
He scoffed, “You were never meant to be mine. I wouldn’t have someone like you raise my kid.”
And with that said, he took another pull from his glass of whiskey.
I should have walked over to him and slapped him as hard as I could.
I should grab that glass and pour it over his head.
But I was done. I was so fucking done with this shit.
That was when I looked at Asher for the last time and asked, “Office?”
He nodded.
***
Once Asher gave me the details, I hugged him, thanked him, and took the ten grand he gave all the club girls once they finished their contract.
Then I walked out of his office, and with my chin held high, I went right to my bedroom and packed my things.
Thankfully, it hadn’t taken me long.
The last thing I grabbed was Maisie’s birthday present.
Then I walked out of my room with my things.
Then I looked at Rome and asked, “Where is Maisie?”
“In his room. That bitch is in Hallie’s old room.” He growled.
I nodded, then smiled at him.
But there was one thing I needed to say to Irish.
Stopping by the door, I turned then and said with a hollow tone, “That’s funny. Didn’t realize I have any tattoos.”
And with that, I walked out of the main room, out the door, and to my car.
Blurred vision.
Tears coursing down my cheeks.
I made it to his house on autopilot.
Then I used my key, unlocked the door, headed to Maisie’s room, and placed her birthday present on her bed.
Then I walked to the island, took the key off my key ring, and placed it on the island.
I didn’t remember the drive to the Wrath MC Texas chapter’s clubhouse.
Nor did I remember Cruz’s face when he saw my red-rimmed eyes.
The last thing I remembered before my head hit the pillow in Cruz’s room were the tears on Maisie’s face.
Fuck. Him.