9. Gator
Chapter nine
Gator
Ilie with my body wedged between her legs. Emma has one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. I keep my hand clamped around her small ankle, grounding me and reminding me this isn’t a dream. She’s here with me.
Both of us still naked, the blanket resting around my hips.
I rest my head on her stomach, feeling it rise and fall with each breath.
I’m still mourning that I didn’t get to watch her carry our son.
She says she doesn’t blame me, but it’s my fault.
I only did what I thought was best for her.
She had her whole life ahead of her, and I didn’t know if I’d be around for the long haul.
I just wanted my little bird to live, not locked up in a cage with me. She runs her fingers through my hair.
“You built my dream house,” she whispers. “Why?”
A sad smile tugs at my face. “I wasn’t a saint while you were gone.” I feel her stiffen beneath me. I clench her ankle in my grip. “Settle, pet,” I order. She relaxes under my command, but the tension still rides just beneath the surface.
“The night before I got out, I prayed, I prayed so hard that you would be there when I got out. I had no right to beg God like that, but I did, because that’s what I was silently doing.
I was begging more than praying that you would be there.
I knew you had a baby. I thought you were happy, but selfishly I still held on to a sliver of hope you would be there, even though you had no idea I was getting out.
When I walked through the clubhouse doors and saw you weren’t there, it hit me what I had done.
I didn’t just lose you. I gave you up on a silver platter to some lucky-ass motherfucker.
You were in some faceless man’s bed, not mine.
You were living the life we had planned with some fuck.
It felt like the rest of me died. I wanted you to have a place in case you came back to me, a place that was only yours.
I started it in prison. It took me a couple of months to finish once I got out.
The night I got rip-roaring drunk, I fucked a patch bunny in my bed at the clubhouse.
It felt wrong. The next morning, I woke up, puked my guts out, and never brought another woman back to my bed.
No matter what, you were always it for me. ”
What I left unsaid was the breakdown I had in the bathroom that morning.
I looked at myself in the mirror, dead in my eyes, and hated myself for everything I had done.
I spiraled for the next two months until Rock came up to me and said that if I was that hell-bent on killing myself, he would do it for me, saving himself the hassle of watching me do it slowly.
I got off liquor Monday through Thursday, never drank alone anymore, stuck to weed during the week, and started getting my life back on track. It took me three months to even bring myself to step foot in the house I had built for her.
“I love you, pet. At the risk of sounding like a psychopath, let me make my intentions clear. We’re in this for the long haul.
If you ever fucking try to leave me, I’ll chain you to our fucking bed until I can rest easy, knowing you’ll stay with me.
” I rumble in an even tone. No inflection, just raw truth. She purrs under me, then jerks my hair.
“I can’t go back to a life without you in it again. I’ll cut your dick off and mount it on the clubhouse door if you ever step out on me.”
I rest my head against her stomach and plant a kiss. “Deal,” I promise with a smile.