Gin's Longing

by Joy Blood

  He must catch the frustration on my face, because he lets out a small laugh. If it weren’t for the shake of his shoulders and his deep voice, I wouldn’t have heard it. “Didn’t come here for that, babe. Much as I want it, not what I came for,” he repeats.

  “Then what did you come for?” I cross my arms over my chest, not caring that my annoyance is shining through.

  “Came here to say I have a house.”

  “A house?” I repeat, still in disbelief. “Why would you want to tell me that? So I can give my congratulations?” I huff.

  “No, babe. Wanted to tell you ‘cause I want you to come live with me. You and the kid. Want you to come be a family with me.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “That is, if you are so inclined. I’ll leave that up to you.” His hand extends. “Here. For when you decide.” I reach out, and he places a small, thin object in my hand. I already know what it is without even looking at it. I have held the thing in my hand so many times, I have the size, shape, and weight memorized.

  “Thank you, Gin,” I respond before he gives a slight nod, then walks out of my room.

  Bringing the object up to my chest, I clutch it a little harder before pulling away to look at the small matchbook Gin gave me all those years ago. Now, along with the number he said I could call, is an address. An address I can drive to and be with him.

  Only, I’m not sure if that is what I want to do.

  Thirty-Nine

  Gin

  “I don’t give a shit if you found a note on the dash that said, ‘Please drive me,’ you don’t take my goddamn truck without my say so!” I holler at Brook as we drive down the road to the house I am damn near finished with. It’s been a week since I chanced the trip to tell Grace about the place and asked her to live with me. I did, however, omit the fact that I now have my two juvenile delinquent children living with me and will probably have a full head of gray hair or be bald by the time she makes up her mind. I figured we would deal with that as it comes.

  “It’s not like I killed anyone. It was just a little fender-bender.” Her arms are crossed in that defiant teenager pose she’s mastered so well.

  “You don’t have your fucking license, Brooklyn,” I growl, knowing the use of her full name pisses her off. “And now that you have gone and pulled this stunt, I might not let that shit happen anytime soon.” Her jaw falls open in shock, then her face is promptly put back to that narrow-eyed scowl, directed right at me.

  “You are ruining my life!”

  I bark out a laugh at her words. “Really? That the best you can come up with? You forget, I was a kid once too and I remember all the shit I said to my parents. ‘I hate you’ was one of my favorites.” I chuckle.

  “Fine then. I hate you.” Her arms tighten, and when I pull up to the nearly finished house, they fling apart and reach for the door before I even come to a stop. Her door swings open and she storms away, saying something about not even living in a real house and having to share a room with her brother.

  Speaking of him...

  “I bet that went well.” Jason laughs from his spot by the house where he’s supposed to be painting, but is instead playing on his phone.

  “Don’t look like you got much done,” I grumble as I walk past. “Put your damn phone away might get that wall finished before supper.” I leave him to it and step inside.

  I’m nailing parenthood.

  The floors are still plywood, so I keep my boots on. The sheetrock walls are mudded in most places with only two rooms left to wall off. One of them belonging to Brook, which is why she still has to share with Jason. The other one I hope will belong to a little girl who looks just like her mom. I’m not sure what I thought Grace would do after I left her house. That she would just pack up and leave was clearly not something she was going to do or she would be here already.

  When I step into the kitchen, I immediately go for the fridge and grab a beer. It’s been one of those fucking days. I was in the middle of working on one of the two rooms when I got a call on my cell about my truck being in an accident. At first, I told the cop he was on smack ‘cause my truck was outside my house. But when I stepped outside the door, I saw that it was, in fact, gone. Courtesy of my little princess.

  After hanging up with the cop, I called Jake to come pick me up since my bike was at the club. His silent laughter about the situation was cut short when I told him his little princess would one day become the little heathen of a daughter I now have. To which he replied with his middle finger and a whispered, “Fuck you.”

  When we got there, I found my truck with barely a scratch and the car Brook “bumped” into nearly demolished. The next part of the situation was that the car had been parked so, like she said, no one was hurt. Still, after a sizeable “donation” to the Cental police force and a tow to our shop at the club to get it fixed free of charge, that girl of mine is in for a world of shit. The owner of the car was at least understanding and not a Hell’s Rider protester.

  “Hey, ah, Da—Gin?” Jason’s voice comes through the door. He still can’t decide what to call me. He’s nearly called me dad on numerous occasions, but switches to Gin. Brook has yet to use the D word when she refers to me. I’m sure the name she uses for me ends in either wad or hole.

  “Yeah?” I yell over my shoulder as I look through the fridge. It’s stocked full, as is the rest of the kitchen. Along with black appliances and granite countertops, it’s the only spot in the house that has flooring and is finished. I went all out with the dark slate tile and the small design of river rock that winds through the floor like a pathway. Straight out of some fucking DIY show. Except for the fact that I didn’t do it myself. I had the place I ordered the cabinets from install them and the floor tile Ellie came and did, much to Vin’s annoyance.

  “There’s someone here.” My ears perk up at Jason’s statement. I abandon my search through the fridge and make my way toward the front door. He’s only inside a step as he holds the door open far enough for me to see who is here.

  “Shit,” I curse softly before getting closer.

  “Hello to you too, Mr. Mathers.”

  “Leia, what brings you by?”

  Her smile turns serious. “I really didn’t know where else to go with this. I shouldn’t even be here, and if I get caught, I will lose my job,” she says, shifting to one foot then the other, uneasy. Not like her one bit. The woman I know is a straight-shooter, no bullshit kind of woman who won’t hesitate to let a person know they’re a fuck up. I should know, I’ve endured her wrath a time or two.

  “What is it?” I ask, prompting her next move.

  “I was looking for an old patient file, and well...I found this.” She holds out her hand. In her grip is a yellow folder. Taking it from her, I flip open to the first page.

  Patient came in with bruised ribcage. Suspect of abuse?

  Patient came in with broken wrist. CPS called.

  I’m not understanding what I’m looking at until I get to the name on the file.

  Rocardio.

  Only one person I know with that last name.

  Rock.

  Forty

  Grace

  My hands shake as I steer the U-Haul down the extended driveway. It must have rained last night because each one of the large potholes that take up the dirt road are filled full of muddied water. I do my best to keep clear of them since the first one I drove over jarred the vehicle to the side.

  A small cluster of trees rests at the end of the driveway. The closer I get, I start to make out the house nestled in those trees. Then, I see it. All of it.

  An unfinished house with a small deck. Not too far from the house is a large shop with the bay door wide open. Inside, I see the big black truck that tells me I’m in the right place, but when I pull up to the house the young boy outside painting throws me off. He has a long mop of hair cut into a Mohawk style and his clothes are five sizes too big for him.

  Taking a deep breath, I put the truck in park and glance back to my
daughter who is just as curious as I am about our new surroundings. “Is this it, Mama?” she asks, her voice hopeful, no doubt wanting to be out of the seat she’s been strapped in for the past few hours.

  “I think so, Tay,” I tell her, and before I can say another word, the click of her seatbelt unbuckling sounds before she climbs into the front along with me.

  “Who is that?” She points to the boy who’s now looking toward us.

  “I’m not sure. Why don’t you stay in here until I figure out.” She doesn’t listen. Instead, she opens the passenger door and climbs out despite my demands for her to get back in. I quickly unbuckle myself and rush out after her. I don’t get more than four steps from the truck when I see him stepping out the front door of the unfinished house. With ease, he bends down and scoops up the exuberant little girl running toward him. Her happy little giggle is music to my ears as he hugs her and tickles her with his long beard.

  “Good to see you too, kid,” his deep voice rumbles before he puts her down then looks past her to me. To where I have stopped, frozen to the ground, unsure of what to do next. “Come here, babe,” Gin says, holding out his hand—the hand that was severely burned when the bomb went off. It’s still angry and red, but healing. He has on his usual oil-stained jeans and bandana, but over his chest is a black tank top that clings to every dip of his stomach. “Grace,” he barks, breaking my stare and bringing my eyes to his. “Come on.” He makes a motion with his hand, and I don’t wait any longer. Much like Tanya did, I run to him, throwing myself into his open arms where I intend to stay.

  “About time, babe,” Gin chuckles into my hair as he wraps his big arms around me, holding me tight.

  “I thought about waiting another week, but—” He cuts me off with his mouth on mine, only to back away when a throat clears from behind. Pulling apart, I suddenly become privy to our audience, including my own child. How could I have gotten so carried away in front of her? I haven’t even had that conversation as to what Gin and I are. In fact, what are we?

  “Grace, these are my kids. Brook and Jason.” Gin’s voice breaks into the questions now going on inside my head. Looking up, I see the boy who was painting the house when we drove up. Minus the haircut and lack of facial hair, Jason is the spitting image of Gin.

  “Hi, Jason,” I respond with a smile, then find Brook, who I feel more scrutinized by.

  “How old are you?” she asks before I can greet her. Her eyes are shaded with dark liner along with her lips. The long rainbow-colored tresses hang down past her shoulders and her clothes look like she’s been crawling though barbed wire fences for fun.

  “Brooklyn,” Gin scolds. “Get your ass back inside if you can’t be nice,” he tells her, pointing toward the house for emphasis, to which she huffs and stomps back inside. “You can turn back now if you want to,” he says, coming back to face me.

  “I would never. Besides, it looks like you might need some reinforcement.” I give him a cocky smile and go back in for a hug.

  “Damn good to have you here, babe. Come in. I want to show you the place. Jason, take Tanya here out back and show her the chickens.” The news of chickens has my daughter squealing in delight, and oddly enough, Jason cracks his first smile since I pulled up, and extends his hand for her to take.

  “Let’s go, kid,” he says, and they are off toward the back of the house where I presume the chickens are.

  “Haven’t gotten much flak from him. Seems to almost be happy here. Wish I could say the same for his sister,” Gin tells me as we walk inside.

  “I’m sure it will pass. When did they—”

  “Their mom dropped them off here about two weeks ago and drove away. Not sure if she’ll be back either.” He shrugs. “Was a tough few days at the clubhouse until I got the place livable. I started it few years back,” he admits as we walk into a kitchen that looks like it came right out of my dreams, except for the dirty dishes.

  “The place you were building for Brit?” I ask, and he freezes for a split second before nodding.

  “Yeah. New dream now, though. What do you think?”

  “I think this kitchen is amazing. These cabinets are gorgeous.”

  “Figured you might like it. Noticed the little dog-eared magazines on your coffee table.” He gives me a sly grin and reaches out to pull me to him. “Got the bedroom almost finished too, and guess what?” he asks, making me smile at this new playful, happy side of him.

  “What?”

  “It has a big ass bed in it.” The corners of his mouth pull up, his pointed mustache rising at the edges.

  “What about a bathtub?” I ask, laughing at him.

  “On order. Should be here in a week. Not sure how the fucker will fit through the door, though.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “You know it, babe.”

  Forty-One

  Gin

  two months later

  “Pres, you got a second?” I ask, walking into his office. I’m holding the file Leia gave me not too long ago, still not sure what to make of it, or if I should even show it to him.

  “Yeah. Come on in. What you got?” He nods down at my hands, knowing full well I didn’t come here just to chat. I hand it to him, and he flips it open. The expression on his face changes as he reads through the file.

  “Where did you get this?” he asks, raising his eyes up to mine.

  “Leia came across it at the hospital when she was looking for a patient file. Thought it might be something you would want to see.”

  “The fuck?” he mutters, looking back through the folder. “Shit don’t make sense.”

  “Thought you grew up in Chicago?” I ask, and he nods in response.

  “Yeah. Mom took off when I was ten. Left me with the club and who I thought was my dad. Never saw her again. Found out about Vin seven years later when his daddy showed up looking for her. This shit…you tell anyone else?” I shake my head, “Good. Let’s not say anything. Don’t want this getting to Buggs until we got something concrete. I’ll take it to Reek, see what he can dig up.” He opens up a drawer from the filing cabinet behind him and places the file inside. He’s visibly muddled by the new information, but shakes it away, scrubbing his hand across his face. “Let’s be getting outside. Everyone should be here about now, yeah?” he says, referring to the party we’re having outside.

  “Yeah, Pres. See you down there,” I say, leaving him to make my way out of the clubhouse to find my woman.

  Right where I figure she would be, laughing and gossiping with the girls. Goddamn good sight to see. Kimi, Ari, Buggs, Ellie, and my Grace all standing around a small table while laughing and watching the kids play in the play yard. My chest tightens. Was this how it was supposed to turn out? I decide it doesn’t matter. What is, just…is. And that is that.

  “You look damn good in leather, babe,” I growl into Grace’s ear as I step up behind her to put my arms around her. Just the way I like her—backside flush against my front.

  “Not half as good as you,” she purrs, back turning in my embrace to plant a kiss on my mouth, which I turn into something heated.

  “Might need to take you inside. Tanya is being watched. Think I could be quick.” I long to be able to let loose with my woman and fuck her as loud as I can. Haven’t been able to since she came back to me on account of the full house we have.

  “You horny old man.” Her words are forced, and I know for damned sure it won’t take much to convince her to go inside and let me have my way with her.

  “You look so damn good in the vest, I can’t help it.” I lean in and nip at her ear, pulling a gasp from her mouth. I got her a vest just like all the old ladies wear that has my name stamped out on it, letting everyone know who she belongs to. I’m sure if Fuzz were still here, he would have my balls for making her mine, but fuck if I wouldn’t let him take ‘em. She’s just that fucking worth it. She has possession of the damn things anyway.

  I don’t get much of an answer before I�
��m pulling her inside to my old room, slamming the door shut behind us. Only this time, I decide I’m doing things differently since we have time and an empty clubhouse. “Undress for me, babe,” I tell her, going to the bed and getting comfortable.

  “I’m not dancing,” she protests, making me chuckle and shake my head.

  “Don’t need to do all that. Take off your clothes and put your cut back on.” My grin, much like hers, grows wide when she complies, taking off the ripped jeans and gray t-shirt. She gets down to her bra and panties and sheds them too, then grabs her cut and puts it back on. Her perky tits are just covered by the leather, peeking out every time she takes a step closer to my spot on the bed, where I already have my cock out and in my hand, the tip weeping to get inside her.

  “It feels weird to wear it like this,” she says with a shy smile. I hold out my hand and pull her over so she’s straddling me. “How come you get to keep your clothes on?” she pouts, pulling at the hem of my shirt. I give a laugh and sit up to take off my cut, then pull the shirt over my head.

  “Satisfied?”

  “We’ll see.” She circles her hips, and gets a smack on her ass for her sassiness.

  “Yeah, you will damn it.” Without another word, I lift her hips, and she places the head of my cock at her already soaked pussy. I let her drop, right onto my cock. “How the fuck do you feel so good?” I lean forward and take her mouth as she rotates her hips in my hands, getting her pleasure from my dick. Breathing in her sweet citrus scent, I swiftly flip us so she’s underneath me and pull back. “I fucking love you, babe.” Her eyes shoot wide open as her mouth drops. I can’t fucking believe I’ve never told her how I feel until now. Maybe I was just being a chicken shit. Who the hell knows.

  “I love you too, Gin.”

  “Gonna marry me, babe?” The question is out before I can think better of it, and she freezes, making me halt my movements.