by A. Lynn
“Thank God for that,” he breaths.
“I know. I don’t like that she is upset with herself, though.”
“Agreed. But it could have been so much worse.”
“That’s what I told her. I should have told her before she took him there, though.”
“What are we going to do now?”
“I told the stupid bitch that she was not welcome in our home and that she was not allowed to see him without me present. Which won't be happening until I feel like I can trust her. But fuck her," I pause. "She threw out fake concern at not seeing him, but I don't buy that shit, I know her too fucking well. And then I told her I would fly her out and pay for her rehab, but that after that I was done."
“Do you think she is going to go through with rehab? Considering she felt like you were forcing her?”
“If she knows what's good for her she will. I told her to be at my house Thursday morning—because we fly out at noon—or Sasha and I will go and file charges against her for putting her hands on Jordan.”
“Do you think she'll care? If she disappears, pressing charges will be pointless."
“I don’t know, but I want her to be clean. I will do whatever it takes to achieve that. Even if it makes her hate me.” I shrug. “I may hate her right now, but I still don’t want that life for her. How many more times does she have to overdose before there is no bringing her back? If I hadn’t had to leave work early to get J from preschool, she would have not made it this time.” I lay back down against him and ask, “Can we change the subject, please?”
“Of course, baby.”
“Shit, I forgot,” I mumble to myself and get up to grab my laptop and purse.
When I turn on the bedside lamp and sit down, he asks, “Forgot what?”
“I’m sending J and Sasha to California Monday through Friday,” I state as I search for flights.
“Why?”
“Because after the last few months, I think J needs a vacation.” I shrug, “And I don’t want him to be here when she leaves. I’m not going to give her another chance to hurt him.”
“What’s the plan while they’ll be there?”
“It’s kind of a free for all type of thing, but when I pitched the idea to her I suggested Legoland. He’ll love it. I need to book the flights, hotel, and rental car," I smile thinking about the fun they are going to have this week.
“How much money do you need?”
Confused, I look at him. “Huh?”
“How much money do you need?” he repeats.
“None. I already gave her seven grand, and with me taking care of the flight and stuff right now, they should have an awesome time," I gush excitedly.
He frowns. "Where did it come from? I know Ma doesn’t pay that well.” He’s fuming, but I don’t know why.
“What are you talking about? Where did what come from?”
“The fucking money, Reagan,” he grits. “Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know who you think you’re talking crazy to, but I don’t deserve that shit.”
“Reagan…” he says in warning.
“Fine,” I yell. “Not that it's any—"
“Don’t say it’s not my business. You are my business.”
“Fuck you, Crow, I took it from my fucking bank account! Is that alright with you?!”
“Explain.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” He stands up from the bed and grabs his shorts and tee off the nightstand. “Where are you going?”
“Home. I don’t like to be played.”
“Are you fucking mental? I am not playing you."
“Then tell me where it came from,” he demands.
I point at myself, "Orphan, remember? I inherited two hundred thousand when my parents died and when Grams died, I inherited another one hundred thousand, her car, and this house. I’m sitting on about six hundred thousand now… Is that alright with you? Would you like to look at my portfolio?” His face is ashamed now, but I'm fuming. "And if you must know, your mother pays me very handsomely. And I would tell you but her ass made me sign an N.D.A!”
“Shit, baby…”
I scoff, “’Baby’, my ass. I haven’t done anything that would call my integrity into question—you did! Sorry, but fuck you! My loyalty is in question? Seriously, what the fuck?”
“Baby…”
I raise a hand. “Just stop, Crow. I’m tired,” I say in exhaustion, as I slip between the sheets, laying on the edge as much as possible.
“I’m sorry,” he says when I feel him climb in the bed behind me and close the gap between us. When his arm wraps around my waist, I turn to face him.
Chuckling sadly, I motion between us and say, “This shit feels toxic.”
“No, it’s not,” he defends. “It’s fierce. There is a big difference.”
I shake my head, “No, it is,” I pause. “Something needs to change… or I will walk away.”
“Don’t convince yourself that our love isn’t enough.”
“You returning my affection right now is only going to piss me off.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true though.”
“Still a dick move,” I shrug.
“Why do you get to tell me when I can and can’t tell you I love you?”
“I know I can’t,” I reply, my anger fading. “Just like you don’t get to demand to know how I raise my son.”
“Touche.”
“Future reference? Just ask if there is something you want to know. Don’t demand shit like it’s owed to you. I want to be with you always, love, and that can't happen with half-truths. You will always get one hundred percent from me.”
“Okay, baby. Total honesty from me, too,” he says just before sealing our lips together. A kiss that is not sexual at all. Just a kiss that is meant to mend any fissures that formed along our very foundation.
“Good,” I say when he breaks the kiss to lay his forehead against mine. “Because, you know, secrets don’t make friends.”
“Who said I wanted to be your friend?”
“Such a dick,” I laugh through a yawn.
“Get some sleep,” he says and kisses me again.
“I love you, Kane.”
Eyes softening he says, “I love you, baby.”
I startle awake when my alarm goes off far too early for my liking. I reach to stop the offending sound when a firm arm drags me back and rumbles, "Where are you going, baby?"
“The,” my voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again, “The alarm. I need to get up and get J.”
He rolls me over and I slap a hand over my mouth. He laughs, “What are you doing?”
I don’t risk speaking and shake my head.
“How am I supposed to kiss you with you covering your mouth?”
I furrow my brows and shake my head again. He’s crazy if he thinks my hand is coming down.
Then he does something so wrong. So reprehensible.
With a fucking smile on his face, this asshole tickles me. I scream and reach down to push his hands off of me, but the joke is on me because his hands wrap around my wrists and pushes them above my head.
“There she is,” he coos.
I glower at him and suck my lips into my mouth and try to turn my head.
“Give me those lips.” I shake my head. “Do you want me to tickle you again?” I shake my head again. “Give me those lips, then.” I shake my head one more time making him cock an eyebrow at me. “Okay. If that’s how you want to play it,” he says as he switches to holding both wrists in one hand and moves his hand to my ribs.
“Okay! Fuck, Kane.”
He just smiles and seals his lips atop of mine. He pulls away far too soon and says, “Morning, baby.”
“Asshole,” I mumble, going to the en suite to do my morning routine.
His laughing ass follows me all the way there and says, “Not one for morning kisses baby?”
“Sure, when I don’t feel like Bruce Lee is handing out ass whoopings i
n there.” Que the laughing again. Rolling my eyes, I ask, “What are your plans for the day?”
“I don’t have any immediate plans, but this afternoon sometime I want to head over to shop and do some work on a custom piece.”
“The shop?”
“King’s Bike and Auto Repair.”
“Oh, is that where you work?”
“Technically, yes,” he shrugs. “But a few years ago Tex, Creed, and I branched out and started King’s Customs.”
“What do you do at King’s Customs?”
“Creed rebuilds specialty bikes that have been commissioned and some that aren’t. The ones that are built without commission, get sold for pure profit. Tex does custom rebuilds for cars/trucks, but he only works on vehicles that have been commissioned—to save on space. When Tex has downtime, he usually works with Creed on the non-commissioned bikes."
“That sounds cool. What do you do there?”
“I do custom paint jobs,” he shrugs. “Right now I am doing a replacement gas tank for a twenty-twelve Harley Softail that a friend from high school commissioned for her husband. It’s being a bitch.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” he sighs. “She just wants a picture of her and him on one side and a picture of their daughter on the other side.”
“Sounds cute,” I smile.
“Not cute, babe,” he drops his head back and groans. “Badass… no man wants his bike to be cute.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Why is it being a bitch?”
“I'm having to paint everything by hand. I haven't painted with a brush since high school," he pauses. "I got the picture of Ashley and Chaz done, now I'm dragging my feet on the little girl."
“Why?”
“Doing faces, hands and feet are the hardest. You wouldn’t think so, but yeah. I don’t want to make their gorgeous little girl ugly. I would be pissed if I paid out the ass for something like this and they made our baby ugly,” he reasons.
I freeze. “What?”
“What?”
“Our baby?”
Wrapping me up in a hug, he asks, “You don’t want more than little man?”
“Of course, in theory,” I whisper.
“In theory?”
“I'm twenty-three and have a three-year-old."
“And?”
“There isn’t an and, I just hadn’t put much thought into it. Before you, I had been alone—except for J and Ryan—for almost four years. I didn’t see that ending any time soon and I had been okay with that.”
“And now?”
“I can’t see my life not being entwined yours in every possible way,” I state. “Do you want kids? Or more kids?”
“More? Baby, I don’t have any.”
“I mean Jordan. He and I are a package deal.”
“I know you are,” he nods. “But I would like more.”
I open my mouth to respond, but I’m cut off by his phone ringing. Thankfully. Shit just got intense in here.
“I’ll be back,” he says and walks out.
Chapter 8
Crow
Walking out on the porch, I just say, “Yeah?”
“Is that any way to speak to the woman who spent twenty-two hours in labor to bring your ass into the world?”
“Sorry, Ma,” I say. “What can I do for you?”
“That’s better. Now, where are you? Did you work things out with Reagan last night?”
“Yeah,” I answer slowly.
“Good. Don’t fuck this up for yourself, Mijo. She’s a good one.”
“I know, Ma,” I sigh. “I’m doing everything I can.”
“Are you with her now?”
“Yeah.”
“Great! Bring her and Jordan over here for breakfast.”
“Let me talk to her and I will call you back, okay?”
“Sure. Figure out what he will eat and let me know.”
“Okay, Ma,” I say, but she already hung up.
Reagan comes out of the house and asks, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Ma is making a big breakfast and asked that you and Jordan join them."
“Oh,” she hedges. “Um—”
“Baby, you can say no if you don’t want to go over there. Ma will get over it.”
“It’s not that, it’s just that J and I go out for pancakes the morning after any night that he spent at Sasha's,” she shrugs.
“Ma said she is making pancakes,” I reason.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put her out.” She keeps wringing her fingers, nervously.
“What is, babe? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
“What if they don’t like me?”
“Are you being serious right now?” I laugh. “Ma loves you.”
“At work. Maybe not for you…”
I grab her hands and bring her into me so I can drop my forehead to hers. "Reagan, I love you. Whether Ma approves or not—which she does—I'm a grown-ass man. I can make my own choices."
“How can you be so sure? That she approves, I mean.”
“Who do you think gave me your number?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Just don’t let her know you know, her ass will just deny it.” She nods as I bring my lips down on hers.
“Okay, love. Let's go get J."
“Thank you,” I say giving her one more kiss.
“No thanks needed," she says as I trail behind her and text Ma.
Me: Little man will want some pancakes.
Ma: See you soon, Mijo.
Me: It will be like an hour before we get there, we need to pick him up from his MiMi’s.
“You just want to walk and get him?”
“Where to?”
“Sasha just lives a couple of houses down the street. That’s how Ryan and I have known each other the majority of our lives."
I thread my fingers through hers and say, "Lead the way, babe."
We only make it past two houses before I hear, “CWOW! HI CWOW! MIMI, DATS CWOW!”
Reagan squeezes my hand and smiles. "He's going to be so excited to go eat with you."
When we get to the corner of the house, I guess he can't wait any longer because he takes off running at full speed. Reagan picks up the pace towards him and drops to her haunches to catch him, but the little shit runs right past her and collides into my knees.
I reach down to pick him up. "Hey, little man. Did you have fun with your MiMi last night?"
“Yeah,” he says as Reagan walks up to us.
“Dang, J. That’s cold.”
“You’s need a coat, Wea?” he asks, making me laugh out loud.
“I think I’ll manage.” She fake glares at him mumbling, “Wise ass.”
“You’s come meet MiMi?”
“I did.”
“Down, Cwow," he says and makes his way back towards an attractive woman who appears to be close to Ma's age. She has straight, shoulder-length blond hair and kind—albeit speculative—honey brown eyes.
“Aw, baby." I laugh and follow her up the sidewalk.
"He didn't even say 'hi'," she pouts as we turn up a paved path to Sasha’s house. She sticks out her tongue at me, bumping my shoulder, and says, "Don't get used to it though, I'm his favorite. You're just shiny and new."
“It’s not a competition, baby…”
“You’re damn ri—” she starts to say.
“Because you would lose!”
She gasps. "You can't say that! That's what I was about to say!"
“Huh, looks like that’s another thing I’ll win,” I say with a laugh.
She growls and steps closer to me, “You suck, Kane… but keep laughing and I won’t be.”
My laugh dries up real quick. “Damn, baby. That’s just mean. Willy would be devastated."
“Willy?”
“Willy Motherfucking Johnson,” I say with a completely straight face.
“I have no idea who that is, so why should I care if he is sad?”
I bring my lips to her ear and say, "That's my cock's name."
She opens her mouth to respond, but little man grabs my hand and says, “Cwow, dis MiMi.”
I smile, extending my hand toward her and say, “Hello, ma’am, I’m Crow. But I guess you already know that.”
“Nice to meet you, Crow. I’m Sasha Buckler,” she smiles. “Hey, Rea.”
“Hey, Sasha. How’s it going after yesterday?”
“He hasn’t said much of anything about it and I didn’t want to push him with as upset as he was after it happened.”
“That's probably for the best," Reagan agrees. "I think I'm going to ask him about it today before you guys leave tomorrow. Did you get the reservations that I emailed to you last night?"
“I got them,” she smiles.
“Good. Do you want me to drive you to the airport?”
“That’s fine.” Sasha frowns and asks, “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“Shit! I forgot,” Reagan says and brings her palm to her forehead.
“Rea, it’s fine. We can take a cab.”
“I can take them,” I offer.
“Would you?”
“Of course, baby. I wouldn’t make Ms. Buckler take a cab.”
“You can come to get my car. The flight is at 11:45. What time should he be here, Sasha?”
“Around 10:15. That will give us an hour and a half to get there and get to the gate.”
“Can you do that, honey?”
“Yeah, that's fine," I say as she raises onto her tiptoes to kiss me.
“Thank you, Crow. That is very considerate of you. And please, call me Sasha.”
“Sasha,” I nod.
“Now, would you two like to come in and have a cup of coffee?”
“I would love to, but Crow's folks invited Jordan and me over for breakfast. Maybe we can all have dinner when you guys get back from California."
“I would like that. Crow, you’ll join us, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, Sasha.”
“Good, that’s settled,” Sasha says. “Jordan?!”
“MiMi?!”
“It’s time to go sweetie. Crow is taking you to his parent’s house for breakfast.”
“Otay, MiMi,” he says. He finally acknowledges Reagan with a frown, “No’s panpakes, Wea?”
“Crow’s Moma is going to make us some.”
