Lucky Bastards (Grim Bastards MC)

by Emily Minton

  Every word I say is true, but it isn’t something I planned on doing today. Guess my plans have changed. It needs to be done anyway. Hell, I need to go through the boys’ closets, too. I need to get all that shit done, especially if this appointment goes badly. I don’t want to leave Boz with a million things to do.

  “I could come over this weekend and help with that. I wouldn’t mind having a look at Fiona’s stuff. There might be something Lexie can wear,” she says then adds, “After we get done at your house, you can come over and help me with mine.”

  “I really want to do it while Boz is gone. You know how hard it is for me to get anything done while he is at home. He kept me so busy, I couldn’t even get laundry done last night.” I quickly come up with an explanation, hoping she will give up.

  Addy giggles before clearing her throat and saying, “If you’d quit giving him the goods every time he’s around, then you may be able to get something done.”

  She grumbles for a few more minutes before finally giving up. Of course, I had to promise to grab Indian with her this weekend before she would hang up. As soon as she is off the phone, I pull up my Kindle app again. I look through my available titles before picking one of my favorites, The Highlander’s Kiss by Karen Marie Mooning. I have read it a million times and somehow love it more with each read. I quickly get lost in the world of burly highlanders, letting it take my mind off all the crap in my life. I’ve barely gotten the first couple of pages read when the woman next to me clears her throat.

  “Are you here to see the doctor, too?” she asks, scooting her chair closer to mine.

  I look over to her and have to force my eyes not to roll in irritation. A part of me wants to ask her why the fuck would I be here if I didn’t have to see the doctor. I let go of my aggravation from her stupid question, and from yet another interruption, when I see the kind smile on her face. Instead, I paste on a smile and nod my head.

  She enthusiastically nods back and says, “Me too. I have to get my annual. I have to wonder why the hell I need a pap smear after the doctor already yanked everything out.”

  I can’t hold back my laugh as I reply, “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe the doctor just wants to see your smiling face.”

  “Hah!” She barks out a laugh. “More like he wants my money so he can keep himself wearing fancy ass suits and driving foreign cars.”

  My smile grows as I picture my doctor. Last time I was here, he was wearing a twenty-dollar tie—a tie that just happened to have a mustard stain on it. His feet were encased in a pair of orthopedic shoes that I’m pretty sure were bought at Wal-Mart. He may be driving an expensive car, but he definitely isn’t spending money on clothes.

  “You could be right,” I reply, surprised to be enjoying the idle chit chat.

  We go back and forth for a few minutes, talking about our lives, our kids, and her grandkids. She finally moves on to her husband, a big burly man that loves nothing more than college football. She tells me story after story of her life, having me laughing out loud. Her endless chatter has me forgetting my problems for a little while.

  “What are you doing here today?” she asks innocently. “Don’t tell me you’re having another baby. It sounds like you have your hands full with the three you have.”

  My hand automatically goes to my right breast, to the spot that the doctor biopsied just last week, and my concerns are brought back in an instant. I found the lump just three weeks ago, a slight little knot just north of my nipple. Considering my mother died from breast cancer, I made an appointment with the doctor right away. Due to my family history, he scheduled a mammogram for the next day. Then, he had me in for a biopsy three days later.

  Since then, I have been walking on egg shells. Worried that the same disease that killed my mother was now ravishing my body. Scared out of my mind that I would not be able to see my kids grow up, get to know their children, and grow old with my man. Horrified that Boz was going to realize something was wrong, would discover the small biopsy cut and freak the fuck out because I hid it all from him. Coming up with excuses for him not to see me naked has become second nature for me. I even went as far as to go against doctor’s orders and drove myself home after the biopsy. So now, instead of leaning on him or my friends, I’ve dealt with it all on my own, and to say it’s been a struggle would be an understatement. It’s what I chose to do, though. I didn’t want any of them looking at me differently.

  “Uhm,” I mumble, not wanting to answer her question. “Well, I…”

  I’m saved when the door to the exam rooms opens and a nurse calls my name. “Mrs. Creed.”

  I say a quick goodbye to the woman and follow the nurse down the long hallway. Surprisingly, she doesn’t lead me into one of the exam rooms. She doesn’t even take my vitals or make me stand on a scale. She just leads me into the doctor’s actual office. I look around the room, a chill spreading through my body. The room feels dark, wooden paneling on the walls and equally dark furniture filling the space. The only brightness in the room is coming from a small window behind the desk. For some reason, the room causes my heartbeat to race.

  “If you’ll just have a seat,” she says, motioning toward one of the chairs. “Dr. Crump will be just a few minutes.”

  For the first time, I realize she is not meeting my eyes. The woman is not even talking to me; she is talking at me. I have been coming to this doctor since Boz and I got together. Even before the kids came along, I never missed an annual appointment. This nurse has been here the whole time. She is normally upbeat, always wearing a smile, and never forgets to ask about my children. This time, she seems cold and clinical. It’s like the normally friendly nurse is building an imaginary wall between us. In that instant, I know. I know it’s cancer.

  “You know the biopsy results, don’t you?” I ask, my voice vibrating with fear. “Can’t you just tell me?”

  She finally meets my eyes, a look of pity on her face, and grabs my hand. “Sit down and relax, Mrs. Creed. The doctor will be in to talk to you soon.”

  With that, she gives my hand a squeeze then lets go and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my growing panic. I don’t sit down, don’t relax. I just start pacing the dreary room. My mind races, filling with thoughts of my family. I imagine telling them what is going on, imagine the fear they will feel. Thoughts of my mother come next, the vibrant woman she was, fading as cancer ate away at her body. I can see the same thing happening to me. As much as that scares me, the thought of my family having to watch me go through it is even worse. I’ve been there with someone I loved, and I know what it’s like. I hate that my family and friends may have to feel that same fear and devastation.

  The not knowing is almost too much to bear, but being in this office, I know it can’t be good news. My mind races with thought after thought of what is going to happen to me and my family. I can’t hold back the stray tears that fall, and as I brush them away, I’m finally released from my morbid thoughts by the door opening and the doctor walking in. He walks directly to his desk, taking a seat, and motions for me to do the same. I follow his instructions, attempting to listen as he starts to talk. At first, it’s all simple small talk. How am I feeling? Is my incision still hurting? Shit like that. After a few minutes, he opens a file on his desk and looks it over.

  “We got the results from your biopsy, Patricia,” he says, laying the file down. “They came back quicker than I thought they would.”

  After a brief pause, I push to the edge of my seat and ask, “And?”

  He crinkles his brow and blows out a loud breath before finally answering me. “I’m sorry to say, but it is malignant. The clinical term is cribriform carcinoma of the breast.”

  Just like that, my world as I’ve known it comes to an end.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Trix

  Sliding the pan in the oven, I look around the kitchen. The place is sparkling, even after spending the last half hour making baked spaghetti. I cleaned as I cooked. That was afte
r I had already spit shined the rest of the house. I have tried to keep myself busy ever since coming home from the doctor’s office. I knew if I took even a minute to think about what was going on, I would fall apart. I can’t afford to fall apart right now, not when my family could walk through the door at any moment.

  Shaking my head in an attempt to make those thoughts go away, I walk over to the sink and quickly wash my hands. I then plug my phone into the speaker and hit my favorite playlist, hoping the music might keep my mind occupied. I bob along with the first song, walking around the kitchen to make sure I haven’t missed anything. Of course, I find a pair of Jamie’s shoes shoved in the pantry. That boy, he takes his shoes off everywhere. Wherever that is, is exactly where he leaves them. By the time I get done putting them away, the pop song has transitioned into a sweet bluegrass sound. As soon as the sound of Alison Krauss singing When You Say Nothing At All hits my ears, my heart skips a beat.

  Thirteen years ago, Boz and I were married behind my father’s clubhouse. I wanted it to be there, because it made me feel closer to my mom, almost like she was there watching me give my heart away to my man. After the ceremony, we had a huge ass party. We did it biker style, with plenty of booze and a shit ton of good music. The only thing we did traditionally was the first dance; Boz made sure of that. In front of everyone, my husband held me close and swayed to the sound of Alison Krauss singing about love.

  Blocking out the memories, I close my eyes and listen to the words. With each beat, I feel closer and closer to tears. When she sings about her love catching her whenever she falls, I break down. The tears start flowing, one after another. For over thirteen years, Boz has never let me fall. He’s always made sure that nothing and no one would hurt me, but he can’t do that this time. He can’t do anything this time. I can’t do anything either. There is no damn way that I am going to be able to keep him from hurting. I am going to be the one hurting him, hurting him in a way that is going to eat at him for as long as he draws breath.

  I listen through the end of the song, letting my heartache and fear consume me. The entire time, I think of all the memories Boz and I have made together. When the song finally comes to an end, I pull in a deep breath and use the back of my hand to wipe off my face. Knowing I have to get my shit together, I walk across the room and grab my phone. I stop the music and pull up my contacts, finding Boz’s name. I just need to hear his voice.

  “Hey, darlin’,” he answers after the first ring.

  “You picked up the kids yet?” I ask, hoping he is already on his way home.

  “I already got Jamie and Fiona, but Land’s practice ran over, so we’re waiting on him. Looks like they’re about done.”

  Fiona had dance class today, and both boys had baseball practice. I’m usually the one that picks them up, but Boz said he would do it today because he wanted to talk to Jamie’s coach. According to my man, the dickhead is not giving our son enough playing time. In reality, the coach is giving everyone equal time. It’s little league, so he wants to keep it fair. I’m okay with that, but Boz isn’t.

  “You guys need to hurry. Dinner is almost ready,” I tell him, having to stop myself from begging him to grab Leland and head home.

  “Good, I’m hungry,” he says before mumbling something to one of the kids.

  I smile as I say, “I made baked spaghetti.”

  He lets out a long whistle and loudly calls our eldest son’s name before asking, “What’s the special occasion?”

  When Boz and I first met, I couldn’t cook at it. It was either sandwiches or carryout. I’m still not much of a chef, but his mom has spent hours and hours teaching me enough to keep my family fed. I can throw something together, but it is not usually spectacular. The only thing I make that everyone absolutely loves is baked spaghetti. It isn’t hard, but it is time consuming, so they don’t get it very often. For some reason, I thought maybe breaking the news after feeding Boz his favorite meal would make it a little easier.

  “Since I had the day off work, I figured I would make y’all’s favorite,” I answer, not telling him the complete truth.

  We talk for a few more minutes before he tells me they’re heading home. After a quick goodbye, I mentally add up how long I have left in the house by myself, and it’s too long to be alone with my thoughts. Knowing I need to keep myself occupied for the next twenty minutes or so, I grab a notebook and pen from the desk. Heading to the kitchen table, I sit down and flip the notebook open. Looking down at the blank page, I try to think of a way to say everything that needs to be said. I could write letters, could pour my heart out, but I don’t think I’m up for that. Instead, I decide that I am going to make a list.

  For Boz,

  1. Quit leaving your socks on the floor. Laundry baskets were made for a reason.

  2. The list of monthly bills and our budget is on the computer under household junk. You will find all of our life insurance information there, too. If you can’t figure it out, get one of the kids to help you.

  3. A long time ago, I made a list of my wishes if something were to happen to me. It is on the computer also, under the file marked Trix’s things.

  4. If you ever need help with the kids, ask your mom. There is no shame in needing a hand now and then. She has been here for me, and she will be there for you.

  5. No one will ever know the extent of my love for you, not even you. I’ve tried to show you daily, but it still hasn’t been enough. The day I met you changed my life, and I will always be grateful that you chose me. Even as I write this, with tears in my eyes, know that I am also smiling. My love for you is beyond measure. You have filled my life with tremendous joy.

  6. This is hard, but I need a promise from you. Find someone else. Find love again. Please, give someone else the gift you have given me.

  With all my love, Trix

  I know there are a million more things I need to say to the man that owns me heart and soul, but I can’t seem to focus my thoughts long enough to get them all out. Instead, I focus on the kids. In some ways, this is even harder. I’m supposed to be here for them, supposed to take care of them. If I die, I won’t be able to do that. I doubt I can get a lifetime of wisdom onto a piece of paper. Knowing that is impossible, I decide to highlight a few things.

  For my beautiful children,

  1. This one is for the boys: always put the seat down. No woman wants to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and the seat be up. Also, I want you both to find a woman that you can’t breathe without. Find someone that will make you smile, even when everything else in the world is turned upside down.

  Fiona, remember that a woman wears makeup, it does not wear her. If you need help learning how to do it, ask Aunt Addy. Also, never ever let a man treat you less than you deserve to be treated. He should treat you like you’re a queen. Get a man as good as your daddy and you will do just fine.

  Your dad is a very smart man, and even if sometimes you don’t like what he has to say, listen, because his gut is never wrong. He will always steer you in the right direction.

  4. I may be gone, but I will always be in your hearts and watching over you, so don’t do anything that you know will disappoint me. I expect you all to be kids that bring good into this world.

  With all my love, Momma

  Setting the pen down, I wipe a stray tear away and tear the pages from the notebook. Carrying them up the stairs, I fold them once and place them in my jewelry box. Hopefully, I will make it through this shit and no one will ever need to read them. My breath comes out labored as I shut the jewelry box and turn away from my dresser. I barely take a step when I hear the front door open and the house fills with the sounds of my children talking and tossing their backpacks on the floor. I quickly check my face in the mirror before heading down to my family.

  The minute I hit the bottom step, I stop and just take in the sight before me. Fiona is twirling in circles, still wearing her lime green tutu. James, or Jamie as he likes to be called, is taking off his sho
es, and Leland’s fingers are flying over his phone with a smile on his face. Knowing my boy, he is probably texting with some girl. Even at twelve, the boy has girls coming out of the wood work. Taking all three of them in at once, I realize just how lucky I am. I may be sick, may even die, but I brought these three wonderful people into the world.

  It takes me a second to notice Boz standing between the kitchen and front door, his eyes locked on me. When my eyes meet his, he heads straight to me and pulls me into his arms. His lips are on mine in an instant, with so much passion that it leaves me breathless. He devours me the same way he always has since the day he made me his. When he pulls away, I take a moment to catch my breath.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” I say, laying my head against his shoulder. “I missed you.”

  His arms tighten around me. “Something wrong?”

  Lifting my head, I stare at him for a long moment, not knowing what to say. How do you tell the man you love that you could be dying? Something is definitely wrong, but there is no way I am going to tell him about it now, not in front of our kids. This is a conversation we’re going to have on our own. Then, we will decide how to tell the kids together. That sure as hell isn’t going to happen standing by our front door.

  “Darlin’ you’re scaring me. What the fuck is going on?” he asks when I don’t answer him quick enough.

  I pull back enough to look at the kids then back to him. “I’ve got something to tell you, but we’ll talk about it after dinner.”

  I barely get the words out when he states, “Fuck that. You’re gonna tell me what is going on right now.”

  I snuggle in close to him, get on my toes, and whisper in his ear, “I don’t want to talk about it in front of the kids. I just want to have a nice dinner with my family.”

  When he doesn’t answer, I pull back and look into his eyes. “Please, give me this, Boz. I need it right now.”

  He stares at me for a few seconds before finally nodding. “But you’re going to tell me right after dinner, even if I have to pull the words out of you.”