“You need to let your momma sleep, princess,” I hear over the baby monitor. Closing my eyes, I lie there listening to Slade murmuring sweetly to her.
“Soon, I’ll be heading out of town for a couple of days, and I’m going to need you to be a good girl while I’m gone.” Knowing she’s with her dad, I fall into a peaceful sleep.
* * *
How I wish I’d never moaned about the nights she wouldn’t settle because she wanted to be held by me. With so many regrets piling on top of one another, it’s become unbearable for me to feel I can go on.
Nina
“Will it hurt you to pick your own shit up off the floor?”
I’m slowly losing the will to live, and if I have to pick up after Zachery—a fully-grown fucking adult—one more time, I’m going to burn his shit out in the back yard.
“Jesus, Neen, I was getting around to it.” Dragging his ass out of bed, he snatches the laundry basket from my hands.
“Jesus has nothing to do with this. I’m sure he picked up his own crap. I mean, how hard is it? You take your clothes off, dump them in the basket, and then you get into bed. It’s like teaching a child the basics in life.”
I snatch the basket back and head into the bathroom, where I find a wet towel from his shower last night dumped on the floor.
“Again, how fucking hard is it to pick up your shit?”
Seriously, my last nerve is stretching beyond its limits.
“What’s fucking wrong with you today?” he groans, following behind me as I stomp down the stairs.
In only his boxer briefs, the sight usually distracts me from everything else, but today, all it does is remind me I’ll no doubt be picking them off the floor later to put in the laundry.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I snap at him.
“Then what’s with the third degree as soon as I wake up?”
Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, I see it’s after lunch. Gritting my teeth, I continue on to the laundry room.
Dumping the clothes in the washer, I pour in the detergent and go to slam the door shut.
“Hold on. I’ve got a pair of jeans that need washing.”
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore.
“Do you think I’m here just to wash your shit?” I can’t help but shout. It’s the only way I think he’ll listen. “I’ve had enough. Wash your own damn jeans.”
Storming out and into the kitchen, I go to pour myself a cup of coffee, and then stop. It’s not decaf, and I slam the mug down on the countertop.
“You’ve been a right bitch since you got pregnant.”
Turning around slowly, he stands in the doorway to the kitchen, his shoulders broad and his chin held high, scowling at me.
“I have, have I? Pregnant with a child you won’t admit you don’t want, puking my guts up every morning because you got me pregnant in the first place, and you have the audacity to wonder why I don’t have the fucking energy to pick up after you like I’m your own personal slave!”
How fucking dare he! My hand tightens around the mug as I launch it across the room. It hits the wall, shattering to the floor by his feet.
“Real mature, babe,” he quips, and I move closer to him.
“See? I made a mess, so I’ll clean it up. You make a mess and you clean it up. See where I’m going with this?”
Shaking his head, he grabs his jeans from the kitchen table and says, “Fuck this, I’m out of here. I’ll come back later, once you’ve calmed down.”
I busy myself sweeping the broken mug into the dustpan as the front door slams shut. Exhaling all my pent-up frustration, it hits me that he didn’t correct me when I accused him of not wanting this baby. Every single suspicion I’ve had over the last few months regarding how he really feels have all been justified. No doubt he’s on his way to the club where he’ll act like everything’s rosy. Meanwhile, everything is far from rosy here at home, and I’ve still got another load of laundry to do when this load is done.
* * *
I shake my head to rid myself of the memory Zach’s brought on as I watch him rounding up the dirty clothes from the floor, shoving it all into the basket, and ask, “Are you going to bring your things home?”
It’s funny. I could never get him to do the laundry before, and now I don’t even have to ask. I didn’t expect the amount of times Sebastian would need be to changed. He’s being put into a new sleepsuit nearly five, six times a day it seems.
“You burnt all my shit, remember?” he says, but with a smile. “I’ve ordered new clothes, but they haven’t been delivered yet. I’ve been wearing shit I found boxed up in my old room at the club.”
Oh yeah. Christ, burning his clothes seems like it was so long ago, yet I don’t feel guilty about it. Was it Alannah who said I wouldn’t feel any better? Because whoever did, they were wrong. It did feel good, and I won’t ever regret it.
“I’d apologise, but you deserved it.”
“You were owed it,” he says simply, using the very same words he said that night.
“Why didn’t you just talk to me?”
I don’t want to keep going backwards, but I do want to know, and I don’t think we can fully move forward if some questions are left unasked—left to lie dormant. He dumps the last of the dirty clothes in the basket before sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I tried so many times. At first, I couldn’t get the words out, and then you were pregnant. And while I may not know much, I knew stress was bad, and I didn’t want to pile my problems onto you.”
How can he not see that’s exactly what he ended up doing to me anyway?
“You do understand that’s what I’m here for, right? We’re meant to lean on each other, especially when one of us needs it the most.”
“It’s my job to look after you, which was what I thought I was doing. Obviously, I was wrong in how I went about it, but I’m going to look after you, and now him.”
Sebastian sleeps soundly in the middle of the bed, tucked under his daddy’s blanket that Kristen brought around yesterday.
“Just so I know, how do I look after you? And if you say keeping the house clean and cooking your dinner, I’ll literally rip your eyes out.”
“Now that the baby’s here, what else would you do but clean the house and cook my dinner?”
My mouth falls open, and for the life of me, I can’t close it. Is he serious?
“You really want to lose your eyes, don’t you?” I gasp in disbelief.
Tipping his head back, he barks out a deep belly laugh, but quickly catches himself before waking the baby.
“Babe,” he says, shuffling across the bed, closer to me. Lifting me with ease, he slides me onto his lap. Rearranging myself so I’m straddling him, yet careful not to stretch too much, he places my arms around his neck.
I can’t help myself. I lean down and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. I’ve missed this the most. Being able to touch him, feel him against me, and hold him while he holds me.
“I just need you. When I wake up in the morning, it’s you I want to see. When I make plans for the future, it’s you I want to base them around. And when I lay my head on the pillow at night, it’s you I want curling up beside me, your leg entwined with mine because you can’t sleep properly if I’m not there.”
“Is that a hint you want to come back to our bed? Is the couch not comfy enough for you?”
Smiling, he claims my mouth with his. Sweeping his tongue across mine, he pulls away, staring heatedly at me.
“I’ll wait until you’re ready, but I miss us. I crave to feel normal again.”
My heart constricts, and I can’t bring myself to find a snappy comeback. No, I leave that to our son who’s waking up, kicking his little legs while stretching his arms up above his head.
Before I climb off of him, I kiss his lips, promising, “We’ll be normal again, Zach. We just need time and to keep talking. But for now, our son needs a bath.”
I lean across the bed
and feel a swift slap to my ass. I giggle, and it’s not lost on me that I haven’t laughed in a long time.
“I’ve missed that sound,” he remarks.
“Me too. You go fix his bath and I’ll get him ready.”
I stop and think it over. “Actually, I’ll run his bath and you get him ready.”
“Really?”
Over my shoulder, I give him a smile and an assuring nod. He’s right. I need to back off and let him help out more with Sebastian.
I dash off the bed and head into the bathroom. Using the thermometer thingy to get the water just right takes me ten minutes. Once it’s perfect, I lay his towel down for when he’s finished, then rush into the nursery to grab him a clean outfit.
By the time I make it back to the bedroom, Zach has him naked and ready to go. He carries him into the bathroom, looking warily down at the tub.
“Isn’t it too big for him with us leaning over the side?”
I frown. Is it? I didn’t think past giving him a bath. This is his first dip in the water, and I know there was a reason I’d been putting it off, I just didn’t remember why until now.
“He should be fine. Everyone else bathes their babies after coming home from the hospital, right?”
But still, even as I say the words, I don’t feel comfortable. Zach passes him over to me and starts to take off his clothes. Once he’s down to his boxer briefs, he steps into the tub and sits, holding his hands out.
My heart melts. These are the memories I’m going to keep and treasure.
Sebastian wiggles around during the swap, and Zach slowly lowers him into the warm water.
I wait for his cries and screams, but they don’t come. His beady little eyes search around, and his little legs kick about, causing little splashes.
“He likes it,” Zach coos, grinning proudly.
I lower myself beside the tub. Cupping some water into my hand, I let it flow down over Sebastian’s head.
“He does.”
With him so content, I quickly dry my hand and run into the bedroom to grab my camera. It’s his first bath with his daddy, and it needs to be captured.
Zach’s smiling from ear to ear when I begin clicking away. Not thinking, I sit down beside the tub and lean over to kiss him.
“You look so cute right now.”
“Is that right?” he chuckles, his brow arching.
“I love you,” I blurt out.
His smile grows even bigger. “I love you too.”
We both look down at Sebastian, who’s still kicking away, loving the water. When I look back on this day, I’ll remember this being our “first” together as a family.
We work together to wash our son and dry him off, get him dressed, and settle him with us as we lay on the bed, watching him take in the world around him. We don’t talk about the shit in the past. We simply lay here, unable to take our eyes off our beautiful son.
Zach left an hour ago when JJ and Leo showed up to ride with him to the club. I thought it was strange, but he promised he’d explain when he got home. I sit on the couch, swaying gently and staring down at my baby. The love I have for him is intense, and I can’t get enough of him. I read so many books when I was pregnant, trying to learn all the techniques I would need, as well as the dos and don’ts. It was confusing as hell. One book would say not to hold the baby so much because attachment issues could occur, while others would say to hold them all you want. I can’t bring myself to put him down, even when he’s sleeping.
My phone pings beside me, and a text comes through from Harper, letting me know she’ll be popping around this afternoon. I reply that I’ll be home and smile, finding myself looking forward to her company. She coos over the baby as much I do, and I love the attention he’s getting. I stroke his soft, clean hair and grin. Man, I just can’t stop with this kid.
A knock at the door disturbs the peace, and I wonder who it could be. Kristen always calls before coming over, and Harper only just messaged saying she’ll be over this afternoon. Heaving myself off the couch, I lay Sebastian in his crib, taking the time to make sure he’s covered with his blanket and comfortable.
Answering the door, I find Kristen standing there, looking nervous.
“Is it a bad time?” she asks.
I hate she doesn’t feel comfortable enough to just show up and visit.
“Of course not. Come in. Sebastian’s sleeping in his basket. Can I get you a coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
She’s looking so much healthier lately, but she’s not fully her old self, and I doubt she ever will be again.
She clutches another gift bag with outfits peeking out of the top, and I roll my eyes behind her back. I don’t doubt she’ll be a loving grandmother, but she doesn’t need to bring gifts every time she comes over.
Once I have a bottle of water and she has her coffee, we take a seat in the living room, an awkward silence settling between us. She took the armchair closest to the baby, and between sipping her coffee and looking over the basket at Sebastian, I can tell the words she wants to utter are stuck in her throat.
“This is all he does, sleep, sleep, sleep,” I say to fill the silence.
A small, sheepish smile struggles to spread across her face. “Zachery was exactly the same. I didn’t think it was normal, but my mom used to say not to knock it, and that I was lucky. India, however, could cry hours after the sun came up after a long night.”
Seeing her pain at the mention of India, I expect her to withdraw like she usually does, but she settles the coffee mug on the table and clasps her hands together in her lap.
“How are you and Zachery getting along now?”
“We’re not fighting anymore, but it’s still a little strained,” I tell her truthfully.
“That club has a lot to answer for,” she mutters, dropping her eyes from mine.
I know how she feels about the Lost Souls, and I don’t blame her, not really. Her grief has become all-consuming. And now that I have Sebastian, I would blame them too if they were the cause of anything ever happening to him.
“Now that you’re a mother, you’ll understand why I’m asking you my next question.”
Now we’re getting to the reason for her visit.
I sit forward, bracing myself.
“Okay?”
“I’m in the middle of selling my shop. When it’s sold, and I have the money in my account, I’m getting the hell out of this town. I want you to talk Zachery into coming with me, as well as you and the baby.”
Huh. I wasn’t expecting this. And to be honest, I already know what Zach will say.
“He won’t leave the club, Kristen.”
After his dad took off his cut and walked out, Kristen expected Zachery to do the same. I asked him once why he stayed, and he told me it wasn’t the club who killed India, it was Ellis. He told me he was a Lost Soul, and nothing would ever change that.
“Would you? You know yourself when your son grows up, he’ll be patched into the club. Can you live your life worrying if he’ll make it home alive every time he leaves the house?”
I don’t know what to say. She’s talking about a situation that’s far into the future.
“There was no question if Zach would patch in. Being that he was a boy, it was a given, and I’ve felt sick over it every day since. Zachery will listen if it comes from you.”
Great. No pressure on me.
“What about Slade?” She hasn’t mentioned him in her plans once.
“What about him?”
Her voice drops to freezing, making me glad the baby’s wrapped up and cosy, because I sure as hell can feel the temperature drop from where I sit across the room from her.
“He’s your husband,” I reason, baffled as to why I have to say it.
“He won’t leave, and I won’t ask him to.”
“He won’t let you go. He loves you so much.”
“You don’t need to worry about him. I have a card up my sleeve where he’s concerned. He’l
l let me go. He’ll have no choice.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
It’s not a question. I can see it in her eyes how serious she is.
“I’m leaving, and I need my son away from that club. Please, promise me you’ll talk to him.”
I nod, agreeing, if only to placate her. I know what he’ll say, but if she needs me to try, then I will.
“Think seriously about my offer, Nina. If you stay, your son will grow up surrounded by them, being groomed for the patch. It’ll get him killed. But on the off chance it doesn’t, think of it this way: it’ll turn him into a killer. Either way, death will darken his soul and change him. The club can’t survive without death.”
Picking up her purse, she adjusts it over her shoulder, preparing to leave.
“Kristen, wait up,” I call out as she heads to the door without so much as a goodbye.
She stops in the hall, and I have to ask, “Why did you stay if you knew Zachery would one day join the club?”
“Because I was stupid and in love.”
“And you don’t love Slade anymore?”
She replies with a soft, tired sigh. “When I look at him now, I can’t remember any of the joy he’s brought me over the years. I only see grief and death at our feet. Love isn’t always the greatest fix of all.”
I’m at a loss for words. Before the night that took India’s life, Kristen was always rigid, somewhat uncomfortable, when I saw her on rare occasions at the club. But when we were in her home, she was a completely different person. She was relaxed, funny, and completely in love with Slade. They’ve been married for over twenty years, and now she’s preparing for a life without him, and seemingly without a care over leaving.
Back in the living room, I shoot off a quick text to Harper, telling her today isn’t good after all, and that I’ll explain when I see her next. I then call Zach.
As it rings, I think of how to word this, needing to get this off my chest. It’s not like it’s a secret. Kristen wants me to talk to Zach, so why does it feel like I’m going behind her back somehow?
His Last Chance : Sons of Lost Souls MC Book Seven Page 12
