Chapter 16b Meggie
Christopher stared at the ceiling, clutching his cell phone and praying Megan called him. He was happy Bailey brought food and Celia helped to serve it, but there was nothing like having Megan there, fussing over him, at his right hand.
Kissing him. Loving him. Teasing him.
Loving him.
Wanting to be in his company.
“Baby, please,” he whispered into the dark silence.
If he went on a run and she stayed behind, his motel room would be in total darkness. She needed a nightlight. He hated those motherfuckers. Tonight, though, he was even more restless in the dark.
Besides, her staying away from him a second night astounded him. Fuck, it frightened the fuck out of him. Suppose she really meant to stay away until her surgery?
Fuck! Suppose she went through with the surgery?
He never would’ve…fuck, he’d already told himself this.
He’d done a fucking lot and might’ve lost Megan because of it.
His blood ran cold and he stiffened, unable to imagine her not coming back to him. She was at Mort’s LA mansion. They had a house phone, but Christopher was afraid to call and piss her off more.
Any other time, he would’ve blazed to LA and…
What fucking other time? When the fuck had Megan left him? Once, when he’d been acting like a supreme assfuck after she lost Patrick, she’d almost left. And she would’ve if he hadn’t come to his fucking senses.
How could he have forgotten those feelings? First, when she’d been guiding CJ out the door and again when she’d beat the fuck out of him at a party he’d banned her from? Both times had put the fucking fear of God in him.
How the fuck could he have taken her for granted? When the fuck had he began taking her for granted?
Turning on his side, he reached out to her empty spot. “I love you so fuckin’ much, Megan. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Come home. Please. You…”
Nausea twisted in his gut and fear spread through his veins like poison. Gripping her pillow, he pulled it to his nose and sniffed. Immediately, his cock stiffened and his heart sped up.
“You my everyfuckinthing,” he said into the silence for the countless time, hoping love bridged the gap. “I need you so fuckin’ much. I want you. I love you. I miss you.”
He prayed he reached her and she found a way to respond, even though he didn’t believe in that bullshit. In his mind, though, his and Megan’s love was eternal, able to transcend time and place.
Able to overcome his motherfuckery. He’d turned his back on her when she needed him most.
“Baby, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“I get it, Megan. I swear I fuckin’ do. Just come home so I can show you.
Ima kill all those motherfuckers who insulted you.
Ima kill all those motherfuckers who voted against me and then fuck up the entire American Scorpion organization.
Ain’t given’ a good fuck what Celia asked.
You my priority. Ima kick those cunts out the fuckin’ club and get new girls.
Ima end the Bobs. Ima take you to see Rule personally.
” He sniffed the pillow again. “You want me to build a hospital for him so he can be close? I’ll pay the doctors a mint. Come home, Megan. Come home.”
Christopher fell asleep chanting that plea.
Curled up in bed, Meggie reached out and ran her hand over the empty place next to her. The spot where Christopher should’ve been. Could’ve been… Would’ve been if he hadn’t turned so completely against her.
Exactly what did he want from her?
He was angry that she’d scheduled the surgery after he’d called her selfish when she wouldn’t. He was begging her to return when she’d become little more than an afterthought to him.
The constant upheaval exhausted her and yet the hours away from her husband and other sons left her aching and uneasy. She missed them, him, but he needed to know his behavior was unacceptable. Obviously, a pussy lockout was no longer effective. She hoped these drastic measures got through to him.
If not, then what?
A lifetime of disregard and disrespect? A graduation to cheating and abuse?
She’d spent her adult life holding Christopher down and would gladly spend eternity in that role.
But his behavior and attitude was depleting her inner strength.
Wholly unacceptable, considering how much she was needed to be there for him, their sons, and their daughters.
He wanted his Sweet Angel back. It would be so easy for Meggie to give in, considering her broken heart at the distance separating them. All she had to do was cave. Stand down. Hope her husband came back.
Arguably, Christopher’s Sweet Angel talked him down, played along with his games, and excused his manipulations.
His Sweet Angel reminded him that family was first, always and forever.
That any club slights or issues could be excused because of blood ties and personal bonds.
She’d pull out her No-Kill list on a regular basis.
Maybe Outlaw needed that sweet angel. But Christopher?
Christopher definitely needed Hell Goddess. He needed Hell Goddess to protect him and make decisions he couldn’t seem to.
Meggie understood that Christopher would be less resistant to the new her if he wasn’t in her scope, too. Little by little over the weeks, his words and actions crushed her. Neither her softness or her tears helped matters.
Another concern for Meggie because she saw herself in Gypsy and it left her spiraling.
Closing her eyes, Meggie sniffled, and hot tears slid down her cheeks. She was so tired of crying. If it wasn’t over one thing, then it was another. She’d caused her latest misery by leaving her husband and children. Her home.
She’d just walked away, which wouldn’t help any of them.
Obviously, you have the answers for everything except your own fucking marriage.
Ophelia’s words invaded Meggie’s guilt, and she growled.
When she left the kitchen, she’d gone to the nursery and read Gunner and Blade a bedtime story, then went and thanked Axel for his help, talked to Bunny for a few minutes, then showered and finally crawled into bed. All the while, she pretended Ophelia hadn’t touched a nerve.
But she had. Except that witch didn’t know what took place behind closed doors. She had no right to castigate Meggie when she had her own issues and demons.
With every passing moment, her desire to talk to Christopher grew stronger. Somehow, she ignored the need to call him and just hear his voice.
Sighing, Meggie reached for her cellphone and forced herself to dial Father Wilkins’ number instead of her husband’s. She expected the same result—no answer.
“Hello?”
It took her a moment to realize the priest didn’t send her to voicemail.
“Father Wilkins?”
“Mrs. Caldwell…? Are…you okay?”
He hadn’t recognized the number. She felt like an idiot when she realized he hadn’t answered because she was using a burner to call him.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly. “The question is how are you? I didn’t know about the rectory fire until a couple of days ago.”
“Is there a reason why you have a new number?”
“It’s a long story,” Meggie said, sighing.
“One I’ll be happy to hear another time,” Father Wilkins replied. “You interrupted my beauty sleep, so please tell me what it is that you need.”
“I tried calling earlier. You sent me to voicemail.”
“I didn’t recognize the number. I don’t give everyone access to my exalted self.”
“How lucky I am to be counted among those that you do.”
“Sarcasm is a sin.”
“That’s nowhere in the bible, Father Wilkins.”
“It’s part of my rule book.”
“Right. Of course. Remind me of that the next time I write a check to you.”
“Charity is a Christian tenet, madam.”
“Relearn it,” Meggie said. “Humility is also one of those tenets.”
“Only for the meek and the submissive.”
“Good to know you escaped unscathed.”
“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Caldwell. It’s been nice chatting with you—”
“I called because I’m in LA. I want to see my son.”
“Rule, I take it.”
“Do I have another son in Los Angeles?”
“You tell me. You have so many of them, I’m sure it’s hard to keep track.”
Meggie gritted her teeth. “I’ll ignore that,” she said evenly. “I would like to visit him tomorrow—”
“No.”
“D-does he not want to see me?” She understood if he didn’t. As Christopher pointed out, she’d failed Rule horribly. “Will it cause a s-setback?”
“Are you asking in your pedestrian way if the doctor has advised against a visit from you? His mother? The woman who prides herself on being a homemaker? Wife? Mom? The one who allowed her son to descend into madness?”
The food she’d eaten rose up, but Meggie forced it back down, and sniffled.
“Guilty tears don’t move me, madam.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “If the doctor doesn’t want me to see him—”
“Did I say that? Do not put words in my mouth as you put expectations on Rule’s sanity. See where that’s landed you?”
“I-if the doctor says it’s okay and Rule is willing—”
“Rule wants to see you and his twin. I am declining your request because you don’t deserve that privilege.”
“If he wants to see me, then you cannot stop me. He’s my son.”
“And I’m his guardian. Your husband signed his care over to me.”
“It was a mistake. I didn’t agree to it. I was just informed of what would happen. He didn’t want my input—”
“When has that ever stopped you?”
“Christopher’s been under a lot of stress and I was in the hospital and—”
“And nothing. It’s always something with you. But it doesn’t matter. Rule is my chance at atonement—”
“What are you talking about?” Meggie demanded. “You’re accusing me of ignoring Rule’s declining mental health—”
“No accusation needed. Where is he? He certainly isn’t a bastion of sanity. Because of you.”
“That isn’t true! Christopher had some responsibility.”
“As Rule’s mother, you had more. You allowed this boy, this child, free reign at the club.”
“I did not! When I was sick, Christopher began taking him to the club. He sometimes lost track of time when the parties started and I always had to make sure we left before things got too out of hand.”