by Marata Eros
We're outside again. Her and Viper's house is framed and roofed. After drywalling is complete, it'll go fast.
“It looked so small when they poured the foundation,” Candi says.
I nod. It always does.
It's not a huge house, but at two thousand square feet, it's perfect for a MC prez and his bride.
It’s a miracle Candi can have a child at all. The news stunned Viper speechless.
When I came back in the house after Candi told him, he had a dazed expression. In fact, I think he wore it for the rest of the month.
Now Road Kill is over here a lot. Beer and BBQs. Feels good to have a full house. Distracting.
I've been ex-communicated from Chaos. Mover was legit and now retired. Dagger's in prison for impersonating a fed. The sting was more than child trafficking, but an integrate web of deceit with lots of players.
We reluctantly include Storm. And though Candi's forgiven him for his rough treatment—dismissing it as part of his role—Viper and I haven't totally gotten over it. A man who can be that violent toward a woman bears watching. Storm won't be staying a fed for long. That's what the MC does to a man: makes a tame man wild—or an already-wild man unable to be anything else.
In fact, the entire group will be here any minute. With a sideways glance at Candi, I ask, “Has he told anyone?”
She doesn't ask what I mean, proving the incident is still very much in the forward part of our brains. “He'd never tell anyone about your assault,” she replies in a low voice, turning to face me. “Puck, it wasn't your fault.” Tears bloom in her eyes like shiny translucent flowers. “Jerstad wanted to wreck us mentally before he did the physical. He tied me up so I'd be witness to your misery.”
I can't meet her eyes.
“Hey,” she says, “he didn't actually succeed in raping you, Puck.”
“No,” I answer, still looking away. “That time, he didn't, because he didn't have the time.”
Candi's exhale is shaky, and the next moment, her arms are sliding around my waist.
“Shit”—her voice is irritated—"I can't give you a real hug.”
We look between us at her bulging stomach.
I chuckle. “Nope.” Our eyes hold. “How can you just go on?” And I can't, I think.
“Because a woman understands the potential to be raped. It's not an alien concept. The possibility is part of our consciousness.”
“I never saw it coming when the rapes started. He always just beat me for interfering with hurting you.”
Candi waits silently.
“Then one day, he knocked me out.” Gooseflesh crawls over my bare arms, my body remembering ahead of my mind.
Candi leans forward, clutching me tighter as the sordid words float over her head.
“When I woke up… his cock was in my ass,” I say in a voice so low, it's less than a whisper. The first hot tear slides down my face, soaking her hair, deepening my shame.
“Oh, Puck,” Candi whispers.
I don't speak again.
Candi holds me while my eyes leak and my spirit aches. She's told me before that I'm one of the toughest males she's ever known. But the tender boy I was still lives inside, battered and fucked up.
I can't reach him, and I don't know who will.
Chapter 31
Candice
June
“I'm worried about Puck,” I tell Shannon, Wring's old lady and now my close friend.
She hears me, but she's racing around after Duke. He's over two now and gets into everything.
I look down at my full-term belly and sigh. Not because I don't want the baby. Viper's. But because I do so much. Having a child was never something I allowed myself to wish for.
After the physical trauma of being assaulted at such a young age, there was a question about whether or not I would even be able to. The doctors erred on the side of caution, telling me the chances were slim.
“Don't worry about him!” Shannon says, exasperated. She finally gets to Duke and grabs him, settling him on a hip. She's about six months along—just behind me—and groans with the effort.
“This is your wedding day. Not a day to worry about Puck.”
I can't help it. For so long, he was all I had. Having Viper has made all the difference in the world, but I haven’t forgotten my brother. He doesn't look great. Puck's lost weight and has taken to working out in an unhealthy way. I know what he's doing, of course. If he can work himself to the point of exhaustion, he doesn't have to think. Remember.
But he did take the consulting job with Perry. I bite my lip, looking at the full-length mirror inside the borrowed room at the church.
“I guess it was some slice of insanity that I thought to get married when I'm about ready to pop.”
Shannon smiles.
The other old ladies will be here soon. My eyes burn as I remember Calem. I won't find out until next week if the adoption went through. Being married should help that along, though.
But those are the only things. Filling in what Viper does for a living is… interesting. And adoption placement agencies aren't really crazy about the word “retirement” in the forms. Even with all that, I've got a good feeling.
Shannon smiles, tucking a loose strand of pale-blonde hair behind her ear. “Just concentrate on getting married, and everything else will work out.”
I know it will, because the man I love is waiting out there for me.
*
Viper
I remember now why I hate ties.
“This fucking thing is like one of your knots,” I tell Noose.
He's got shadows beneath his eyes. Doesn't get much sleep with the twins. I remember when he used to look like that after the all-nighters.
Not anymore. I smirk. Then my smirk fades as I think about Candi, ready to have our kid at any moment. I'm in for it.
My smirk morphs into a smile. Always wanted a kid—a family of my own. Feel like fate smiled on me.
ʼBout damn time.
Aria looks up at me with big brown eyes like Rose's. “I think you look nice,” she says very clearly at almost five years old.
Women start conversating pretty damn early.
Noose yawns so wide, I can see his tonsils. “Ties suck.” His mouth snaps closed, and crossing his arms, he leans against a long table that's been shoved against the wall.
“Can't believe you're going to be a dad,” Wrings says thoughtfully. “You're fucking ancient.”
“Language,” Noose says, giving Wring a sharp look.
Wring glances at Aria and mutters, “Sorry.”
“I'm not fifty,” I remind them.
“Pfft,” Lariat sounds off. “I don't know if I could do the gig at your Geritol age.”
Making sure Aria's not looking, I flip him the bird.
“I didn't think a chick could get that big,” Trainer comments thoughtfully.
Why in the fuck are they in here, anyways? “Get out!” I wave a palm toward the door. “I've had enough encouragement to last forever.”
“I didn't say nothinʼ,” Snare says, dark-blue eyes glittering.
I point at him. “But you want to.”
Snare snickers.
I jerk my thumb toward the door. They all file out and Puck stands at the entrance. He's my best man.
Moving through the threshold, he closes the door and walks to me. We bump fists.
“How's Candice?”
“Cranky.”
We grin at each other. The last month has seen me tiptoeing around hormones like a full-fledged expert. I don't know how Puck's survived.
But damn does that woman like sex. Candice doesn't care that she's bigger than a house. And I'm happy to oblige.
“Ready?” he asks quietly.
I nod. My sadness for Colleen doesn't even stir. I figure she's up there in heaven, lifting a champagne glass and toasting us. After all, her dying words were “Find someone else who will love you.”
I nodded through my tears, giving her tha
t absolution, when all the fucking time I knew there'd never be another woman like her. But that's not what life's about. It wasn't about replacing Colleen or having someone else just like her. It was about living, and finding love. Candice gave me that.
In a minute or two, I find myself at the altar, waiting. Candice walks into the church where everyone's gathered, and I catch sight of her. Gorgeous. Like a floating cream dream.
Her dress is one of those that starts right under her tits and falls to her dainty feet. Her breasts are offered up in the low-cut neckline like ripe melons.
I don't think I'm supposed to get a hard-on right now. Not that my dick has ever cooperated once in my entire life. But damned if the vision of her as my bride with my child filling her belly isn't as sexy as fuck.
I can't swallow past the lump in my throat, the feeling of flat-out luck I have to be here right now, in this moment.
Candice walks down the aisle, my own father at her side. The sight squeezes the air from my throat.
She's showing the world that there's a man she trusts more than anyone.
It's a gift I can't wait to receive.
*
Charlotte
I knock at the front door of a really rural house. Beautifully done.
Looking down, I squeeze Calem's shoulder. He smiles back. I never get to see something like this through. It feels so great, I want to cry. Somehow, I hold back.
A built older guy answers, drying his hands on a wash towel. “Hi,” he says then sees Calem. “Hey, pal!” He grabs Calem, spinning him around right in the foyer.
“Hi, Viper,” Calem says.
A woman a little older than me comes out with a new baby in her arms. This must be Candice Morgan.
“Hi,” I say to her as the man and boy reunite. “I'm Charlotte Temperance.”
“Hi, Charlotte,” Candice says, holding out her free hand. She has unusual coloring, deep-red hair and eyes that are a true gold with vibrant streaks of green. I don't stare. Instead, I set my eyes on the newborn.
“Oh,” I say, not able to keep the delight out of my voice, “is this your new baby?”
She nods happily.
Vince Morgan draws her into his side protectively. “Ours.”
They smile at each other, and I hold back a sigh. Sappy, but true. My news might make them even happier, which just makes my week.
“May I come in?” I ask.
“Oh, gosh, so rude of me,” Candice says, sweeping her arm forward.
Calem rushes over to Candice and wraps his arms around her legs. “I'm so glad to be here, Miss Candi.”
“Not to be discourteous,” Vince begins, “but we've already been through all the hoops, rules and BS. Now the kid's ours, right?”
I slowly nod. “So why am I even here?” I guess for them.
He gives a mild shrug. “Bluntly—yeah.”
“I have some great news—interesting news.”
Candice frowns.
Just then, a huge guy comes walking in through the back door, even dirtier than Vince was. Covered in grease, with dirt creases between his heavily muscled body, I know just from looking he must be William Johnstone, Candice's brother. They look alike, though his eyes are deep pools of drowning brown.
“Hi,” I say a little breathlessly, “I'm Charlotte Temperance.”
His lips quirk. “That's quite a name.”
Don't I know it. “Yes, there's no getting around it.”
“No nickname?” Candice asks quickly.
I feel a slight flush of heat and know I'm blushing. “Temp.”
“Temp?” Candice's eyes travel upward in contemplation. “You're too girly for that.” Candice winks and begins walking toward the kitchen, Calem's hand in her free one.
William's eyes travel my form from head to toe. “Very girly,” he says. Not with disrespect but more like he notices me. Really notices.
Okay, time to be professional. I clutch the paperwork closer and follow Candice. Vince and William fall in behind me.
I try to disregard the distinct scent cloud of motor, fresh earth, and soap that follows around William Johnstone. Harder than I thought.
“As you know,” I begin, attempting to leave my flustered exterior behind, “I'm the social worker assigned to Calem. Normally, I work with adults, but in this case, adults were so involved and the circumstance so unusual, I was called in to facilitate.”
William sticks out his hand. “I don't think we've been properly introduced.”
I put my hand forward. “I know who you are, William.”
His large hand folds around my much smaller one, and I gasp from the contact, biting my lip to hide it.
“Puck,” he says, but his eyes tighten at my reaction.
I nod, dropping his hand as quickly as I can and still be polite.
What the hell was that? Felt like an electrical shock. I fight not to rub my hand on my skirt.
William “Puck” Johnstone is looking at me more intently than before. Maybe he felt it too.
“It's good to meet you,” I say, voice slightly breathless as our eyes lock. Shifting my gaze away, I concentrate on sliding the manila folder away from me across the battered surface of an antique kitchen table and sit down.
Everyone settles. Calem sits next to Candice, letting his head fall against her shoulder.
The scene brings tears to my eyes, momentarily distracting me from the chemistry between me and Puck.
“I'll just spit it out, though there is plenty of paperwork to back my news.”
Vince frowns.
I hold up a palm. “It's protocol now to DNA test all adoptees. Routine.” My eyes meet all of theirs. “As a contingency against a blood relation out there that could gain custody. We don't like to separate families.”
I don't miss the look that Puck and Candice exchange.
“Anyway,” I continue, purposefully ignoring their silent communication, and tear off the Band-Aid, “Calem is actually your half-brother.”
“What?” Candice leans forward.
Puck scowls. “That's not possible.”
I nod. “It's very possible. And as such, the two of you are first-degree relatives, and the boy will inherit the estate of his deceased biological father, making you co-executers of his trust.” That part doesn't really fall under my job description. But the attorney who handles anything wonky checked into everything and told me what I was allowed to say. Someone else will handle the estate details.
Candice gives the baby to her husband, who smoothly puts him over a shoulder, rubbing gentle circles on his back.
The silence is deafening, but I'm used to awkwardness. Nobody does the work I do without being used to dysfunctional dynamics.
“That's why he was doing the meet. Why Calem was so important.” Candice appears shell-shocked.
“Who's the mother?” Puck asks.
I shake my head. “Her DNA was not in the database. But from what we understand through some preliminary research, she… ” I don't finish my sentence right away then finally end with, “is no longer with us.”
Drug user. Hooker. Then the aunt took over and dies under mysterious circumstances. A bus accident that might not have been all that accidental. Of course, they don't pay me for detective work.
Those events don't feel very mysterious anymore. I'm thoroughly versed on the events surrounding Samuel Jerstad, though there are blank spots I'm not privy too. His involvement in the child trafficking is well documented, as is his demise by law enforcement and the disbanding of said ring.
I tap the paperwork. “Here are all the documents, legal and otherwise, proving what I've said and giving you legal guardianship of Calem.”
Reluctantly, I stand. This is always the hard part. I feel a personal responsibility to the boy, though in this case, the outcome seems sound.
I hesitate, and Candice's smile is kind. “It's okay. I know how you feel.”
The tension in my shoulders eases. “It's so hard to leave them.”
&nb
sp; Candice nods. “I know.”
“How long have you been in social services, Temperance?” Puck asks, his intense eyes pegging me like a moth to a board.
I swallow once, throat tight. “Not very long. Maybe three years?”
“It'll get easier,” he says.
I think about how he was a cop and Candice was FBI.
“Or maybe not,” I say, letting my eyes drift to Calem. I scoot the chair back and tell Calem goodbye, trying not to cry.
He trots around the solid wood table and hugs me. “Thank you for bringing me to…” Calem doesn't know what to call Candice.
“To your sister.” My eyes seek Puck's, and his gaze is already on me. “And your brother.”
“Candi,” Calem tries the new name out. “I like that better than Miss Candi.
Candice's eyes fill with tears. “Me too, honey.” She sweeps his long bangs out of his eyes and smiles at me through her tears. “Thank you,” she mouths.
I nod and turn away before I break down. Quickly striding for the stairs, I feel a large hand wrap my elbow.
I turn and look up. Way up. Puck is a large man, an intimidating one.
“I'll walk you out.”
“That's okay. It's not necessary,” I say, wanting him to walk me out so badly, my mouth is dry.
“I know. I want to.” He doesn't let go of my elbow. And I don't want him to.
Chapter 32
Puck
Charlotte Temperance is hot. Temp.
Strangest name I've ever heard. Quirky. Fits her somehow.
I walk her down my new steps, hand still lightly gripping her elbow, and check her out surreptitiously.
She's taller than Candi, maybe five foot fourish. Thin but not bony, athletic and charged with emotion. I could read her face like a book in there. She ought to watch her expressions.
Frowning, I decide I'm not in the business of telling people what to do or protecting them anymore.
I'm doing better. It's been almost a year since Samuel Jerstad tried to put the icing on the ruin-Puck-and-Candi cake. The aftertaste still lingers.
Haven't been able to shake that, but time makes the coping easier. The distraction of Candi and Viper's house getting finished and the final stages of my own restoration haven't left me time to think.
