Chapter 13
Creedence
Seeing that name on my phone, I felt a piece of my soul wither away to dust.
He had seen his name in my phone, growled, and changed it to Ripper.
I still didn’t know what to think about that.
Ripper – Made it. Talk soon.
Made it? Talk soon?
Ex-fucking-cuse me?
Me – Talk soon?
No response.
Five minutes later... nothing.
Two hours later... nothing.
Five hours later... nothing.
Me – Good night. I love you.
Two-thirty in the morning.
Ripper – Yeah.
I should have seen the signs.
They were written in big letters. Big as fuck, red letters.
But I was in love.
He was my everything.
I just didn’t know about his demons.
Not until it was too late.
***
He wasn’t there when I graduated high school a month later.
He wasn’t there when I got my acceptance letter for college.
He didn’t return my numerous calls or texts.
Except for one.
Only one.
Texting me Happy Birthday.
***
7 Months Later
I smirked as Dad stalked across the hospital room while Mom pushed through another contraction.
“Fucking give her something for the pain,” he snarled.
She chuckled, “I don’t want it.”
He narrowed his eyes on her as he stopped and stared at her, “No, but I fucking need you to take it. I can’t handle seeing you in pain.”
She rolled her eyes.
He growled, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
She looked at him, then she looked at me, “Take him somewhere. Please?”
I giggled, “You really think he’d leave you right now? You’re mental.”
She giggled.
And then fourteen hours later, after Mom made them give Dad something to calm his ass down after she went through a bad contraction and Dad grabbed a spare belly band and threatened to choke the doctor out if he didn’t give her something, she gave birth to my little brother.
Gage Isiah Nichols was eight pounds and nine ounces, and twenty-one inches long.
And the racket he was making, Dad smirked and said, “Havoc. He’s Havoc.”
Mom growled.
Dad smirked.
They gave Gage the middle name Isiah after my Uncle Xavier.
He was my mom’s brother and the reason she met my dad.
It was fitting.
***
Age 19
And over the next two years... when I did get to see him, it was only during club functions.
Those mesmerizing, mossy-colored eyes of his looked back at me with so much longing.
I could feel it.
But every time I tried to take that step toward him, that look would vanish.
And in its place... cold indifference.
Yes, in my heart, I was taken.
But my mind was screaming at me that shit wasn’t right.
I just didn’t know which one to listen to.
***
Age 21
And on Christmas morning, two years later, while I was home from college... a gift bag arrived.
It held the following:
A T-shirt that read, ‘My boyfriend can kick your ass.’
A jeweler’s box that held a necklace with two bullet casings hanging on it. One was with my birthstone in the center, and the other with his.
Softly, my dad asked, “Okay?”
“I will be. I just want to find a quiet corner and read everything.” I placed the necklace around my neck and then held the letter that was also in the bag close to my heart.
Maybe, just maybe, he had dealt with whatever was eating him up inside, and he was ready to come back to me.