OLIN (A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga Book 3)

by Debra Kayn

  Usually Chief frightened her a little. Though he was Olin's dad, she'd been around him her whole life and thought of him as Johanna's guardian before he became Johanna's lover.

  "You can tell Johanna I'm fine." She smiled sadly. "One of these days, I promise, I'll work up the courage to visit her at the house or the clubhouse. I just need some time." She looked over at Olin's house. "I need to straighten out my life, and..." She sighed. "Just tell her I'll try."

  "Will do." Chief leaned forward and braced his forearms on the handlebar. "You gave me a beautiful grandson, Ashley."

  The dam of tears she'd ferociously held back cracked. She sucked in her lips and nodded, acknowledging him.

  Chief exhaled loud enough Ashley heard from ten feet away. "Someday, the pain you've gone through, and you're going through right now, will be over, and there will be happiness and love."

  "Can you promise me that?" She looked up at the sky and blinked furiously. Chief was not the person she ever thought she'd be seeking advice from but at the moment, he was the only one willing to speak of what she'd gone through.

  Lindsay tried not to talk about prison. Her mom pretended she hadn't been gone for three years and had a felony stamp on her resume now. Olin had barely said two words to her.

  She was standing in a weed-filled field, talking to the last man she imagined, and her son was firmly planted inside Brikken with the man she loved more than life itself.

  Nothing about the life she'd been handed was fair.

  She'd screwed up. She'd served her time. When was life going to stop hurting?

  "You and Olin always went together like gas on fire." Chief's gaze softened. "It only takes one spark to burn your past."

  He started his Harley, lifted his chin, and turned his motorcycle around in the road and rode away. She walked back out into the field and proceeded to make progress on getting rid of the weeds while thinking over what Chief had said.

  Last week, Olin had gone on a ride with Brikken. She'd heard through Lindsay that Trik stayed at Johanna's house with her and Chief. When she'd found out, she beat herself up and grew angry because she was right here, wanting her son.

  It wasn't fair that Olin couldn't trust her to watch her own child.

  Afraid of doing anything to upset Olin and lose her chance at being a part of Trik's life, no one ever found out how much hurt she'd lived with over the past three years.

  She pushed off the ground, her back spasming from the position. That's all she could do for the evening, both physically and mentally.

  Chapter Forty Two

  "Daddy?"

  Olin looked up from the barbecue to his son standing on top of the picnic table, his pile of Hot Wheels scattered around his feet. "Yes, son?"

  Trik pointed. "Who's that?"

  He followed his son's finger and found Ashley in the back of the field next door, bent over, and tossing weeds over her shoulder. His chest tightened. It'd taken her three weeks to work a wide strip across the property, he'd about given up on his plan and called her over to see Trik many times.

  Over the weeks that she'd worked, he'd watched her progress and determination. During that time, he'd made peace with himself and discovered that their separation was partly his fault. He could've tried harder, used Lindsay or even Ashley's mom against her, to make sure she couldn't distance herself from him.

  Instead, he'd let his anger fester and thrown himself into raising their son.

  "Remember that story Kylie and Sydney told you at daycare about the kids who climbed their way up to the clouds?" He turned the temperature on the grill down, closed the lid, and stepped over to the picnic table. He put his boot on the bench and leaned his arm on his knee.

  Trik sat down on his butt. "Candy. Toys. Dinos!"

  "Right. That's what the kids got when they reached the top of the cloud." He looked back at Ashley, who picked the dandelions unaware that she was the focus of his conversation. "Do you remember who is allowed to go up to the cloud with the kids?"

  "Me."

  "Yep, and daddies and mommies," he said.

  Trik picked up one of his toy cars.

  "That woman out there in the field is your mommy." He waited for a reaction of shock, fear, anger, and resentment.

  Trik put the car in his mouth. He'd handed his son the truth, and instead, Trik had already left the conversation to play with his Hot Wheel.

  He chuckled and ruffled his son's head. "Boy, you need to listen."

  "What, daddy?"

  "Your mommy was gone for a while, and now she's back. She'd like to see you, and because she remembers you when you were a little baby, she's probably going to want to give you a hug. Maybe hold your hand." He tugged on Trik's hair, bringing his gaze up. "Do you think you'd like that?"

  "Play cars?"

  "I imagine she'd like to play with your cars," he said, picking up his son. "How about we find out, hm?"

  He carried Trik to the edge of the backyard and yelled, "Ash."

  Ashley's head came up like a rabbit on alert, and she raised her hand to shield the sun from her eyes, searching in his direction.

  He put his hand in the air and motioned her over. As much as he wanted Trik to understand that the woman walking toward them would change his life for the better, he realized for a two-and-a-half-year-old growing up in Brikken, everyone was at his son's mercy.

  Ashley crossed the property line, barely able to take her gaze off Trik to look at Olin as if afraid he'd tell her to get off his land. He put their son down on the ground, who noticed a new person to give him attention and ran toward Ashley, skidding to a stop in front of her, thrusting his car toward her.

  She didn't merely bend over, Ashley dropped to her knees, took off her gardening gloves, and pretended to inspect the toy car. He turned away and walked back to the grill. Keeping an eye on mother and son, he removed the hot dog and put it in a bun. Then, he added a small corn on the cob to the plate.

  Ashley stood, and Trik took her hand, leading her to the picnic table. Her eyes shined bright in the evening sun and a smile he hadn't seen in a long time graced her face.

  "Blue car." Trik let go of her hand and scrambled up onto the top of the table. "Mine."

  "That's a cool car." Ashley sat down and instead of admiring Trik's car collection, stared at her son. "Do you like playing with cars?"

  Her son shifted and rolled the toy over her arm making puttering noises with his mouth. Olin slipped into the house, grabbed two hamburger buns, adding mayo and ketchup to each side and walked back outside. He fixed Ashley and him a plate and carried it over to the table, reaching back to grab Trik's food.

  "All right, son. Move your butt off the table and eat." He sat across from Ashley. "You might as well eat, too, Ash."

  Their son lowered himself to sit beside Ashley. Olin took in her trembling hand, the flush on her cheeks—or maybe that was her recent sunburn from spending hours outside during the days picking weeds out of the field.

  He tapped the table in front of Trik. "A bite of corn before your hot dog."

  "Me don't like corn." Trik lifted the cob and moved to put it on the table, and Olin caught it.

  Olin put the cob back on his son's plate. "You do, too."

  "It's really good corn, Olin." Ashley bit into her cob.

  Trik watched and mimicked her, taking a bite. "It's good corn, Oh-win."

  "Told you," Olin muttered, losing his appetite.

  Having Ashley for dinner was a bad idea. He'd put her in the position of being a guest at his house. She was his woman. Her belongings were in his room.

  She shouldn't need to try and get to know her son by playing in his world.

  Trik lost hold of his corn on the cob, and it dropped underneath the table. "Uh oh."

  Without letting go of his burger, Olin passed his corn to Trik. "Three more bites."

  Ashley stared at Trik. She hadn't touched any more food on her plate.

  Finally, Trik announced he could eat his hot dog and proceeded t
o inhale the whole thing, plus the bun. Used to his son's healthy appetite, he enjoyed Ashley's silent observations of their dinner habits.

  He couldn't make Ashley suffer, being forced to be an outsider at their family dinner. She was dying to get her hands on her son, and he could feel her desperation.

  "All right, time for your bath, son." He stood from the table. "Your mom is going to get you cleaned up and ready for bed."

  Ashley's head jerked up at him calling her mom. He continued looking at Trik. "His PJ's are in the top drawer of his dresser. I usually let him pick out which one he wants to wear. It helps hurry him along."

  Ashley lifted her legs out from under the bench and hurried to stand. She stepped closer to Olin and whispered, "He'll be okay with me washing him?"

  "He's used to others helping him." He picked up the paper plates. "He'll be fine with you."

  Olin leaned around her. "Son, now. Go with your mom."

  Trik climbed off the picnic table, grabbed Ashley's hand, and leaned all his weight into tugging her toward the back door of the house. "Bubbles?"

  Ashley looked back at Olin. He raised his brows. This was her time. If she wanted to give him a bubble bath, that was her choice to make.

  Alone outside, he picked up everything he used to cook dinner and carried the supplies through the sliding door into the kitchen. He looked at the clock. It was almost eight o'clock. By the time Trik had his bath, dressed, it would be his bedtime.

  He looked out the kitchen window at the field. Ashley had pulled the weeds off half of the lot, working from Lindsay's place toward his.

  His son squealed from the bathroom. He closed his eyes, wanting to be there and share the moment with Ashley. To see her marvel at their son and take in every inch of his chubby body.

  She'd never had the time with Trik that he took for granted. It seemed so long ago that Ashley struggled to believe she could get pregnant.

  When he'd received the news of her pregnancy, he'd been ecstatic until he realized that she was going to be alone during her pregnancy. The rest was a nightmare. He hadn't even been there at the birth.

  His phone rang. Jett.

  He answered, "Yeah?"

  "D-Con's over at the garage saying they got the wrong delivery of carburetors for the years twenty-oh-five and twenty-oh-six. You know anything about it?" asked Jett.

  "I told Freddy we're doing top-overs now. There's a bigger demand." He walked into the living room. "Have D-Con talk to, uh, Shore. He's got them classified under the HD overhead."

  "All right." Jett paused. "You good?"

  "Ashley's here. She's giving Trik a bath."

  "Good, brother. I'll let you go and call D-Con back."

  He disconnected the call. Curious to know how things were going in the bathroom, he walked down the hallway and leaned against the wall, out of sight.

  "You're such a big boy," said Ashley. "You're very special, having a daddy who lets you have so many bubbles."

  "More."

  The splashing sounds from his son and the gasps from Ashley relaxed him. Giving their son a good scrubbing always involved him getting half soaked.

  "Oh, careful, baby. Let's sit down, so you don't slip," said Ashley.

  Trik had been in the water a good ten minutes. Olin hooked his thumbs in his pockets. Any minute, Trik was going to let a stream of pee go if Ashley kept letting him play instead of giving him a bath. He'd only been out of diapers a month, but his son was all boy. Peeing in the bath, outside in the yard, wherever he got the urge, was a chance to admire his skills.

  Not wanting to be caught in the hallway outside the bathroom, he went back to the living room and sat down on the couch, turning a baseball game on with the sound off.

  He wasn't checking up on Ashley. He trusted her with Trik more than anyone else. The next time she gave their son a bath, he wanted to be a part of it because he hadn't had the chance to see her be a mother the way he should've.

  Inhaling deeply, he was taken back by her strength. He'd always known she'd be a loving mother, but the extreme unselfishness she'd shown putting Trik first was one of beauty.

  In the third inning of the game on television, Ashley came into the living room. "Trik hopped into bed and is asking for you."

  He stood and headed toward the hallway and stopped. Ashley wasn't following.

  "Ash?"

  She turned. "Yeah?"

  "You can help tuck him in." He led her to Trik's bedroom.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, kissed his son's forehead, and whispered, "Love you, son."

  "Love you, daddy." Trik flopped back on his pillow.

  Olin grabbed Harley Hog off the nightstand and pulled the blanket up, covering both boy and stuffed animal.

  "Daddy?"

  "What, son?"

  "Kiss Hog."

  When his only child asked him to do something ridiculous, he never hesitated because it made Trik happy. He bent down and kissed the stuffed animal. "Sleep tight, Hog."

  Trik sat up and held out his arms to Ashley. "Kiss."

  Olin moved off the bed and made room for Ashley to tell their son goodnight.

  Ashley cradled their son's small body to her chest. Trik slow blinked, nuzzling his head against her breasts as if in his short life he'd never found such comfort until tonight.

  Olin's chest tightened. God damnit.

  He turned away. His son should've always had that warmth and love.

  "I love you so much, Patrik Rollo Stanton," whispered Ashley. "Thank you for eating dinner with me and letting me give you a bath."

  At the doorway, Olin cleared his throat. "Tell your mom goodnight, son."

  "Night, Mommy."

  He walked out of the bedroom and waited in the hallway for Ashley, then he closed the door halfway. Without looking at her, he went into the living room.

  "Olin?"

  He stopped and turned. She approached him, standing toe to toe. His balls ached. He couldn't be around her and not want her. She belonged to him. Always had.

  "Thank you so much, not only for letting me be a part of tonight but for taking such good care of our son. It's obvious you've been so good to him—which I knew you would be the best father." She blinked rapidly, trying to stay ahead of the tears gathering.

  He dipped his chin, caught up in the past and the right now. Wanting things to be different, he couldn't talk, afraid he'd say the wrong thing.

  "I wish you didn't hate me," she whispered.

  "I don't hate you, Ash. It'd be a lot easier if I did," he whispered back.

  She cupped her hands over her mouth and nose and nodded. He rubbed the escaped tear on her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

  "He gets up at six o'clock in the morning. Is that too early for you?" he asked, his voice gruffer than normal.

  She reached for him and then dropped her hands to her sides. "No, um, I can be here any time."

  "Come a little early. I can grab a shower, and he'll have someone here in case he wakes up."

  She nodded, backing up to the door as if she was afraid he'd change his mind and take more time away from her and Trik. "Thank you," she mouthed and slipped out the door.

  He walked out onto the porch and watched her until she'd arrived safely at Lindsay's house. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Ashley had passed the remaining dandelions without even glancing at them.

  Chapter Forty Three

  Ashley sat beside Trik on the floor of Olin's house, legs stretched out in front of her. She provided a bumpy road for the toy car he navigated over her foot, her calf, and over her knee. She couldn't stop staring at the miracle playing quietly. All week, every day, she'd learned something new about her son.

  "Mommy?" Trik patted her shin. "Flat tire."

  She picked up the toy tow truck beside her and rolled it down her leg amused that he said fat fire instead of flat tire. Slowly, she was learning Trik-speak. "Hook it up and drive it back. I'll fix it for you."

  His little boy noises changed as he went
to work in whatever imaginary world he'd created with a few toys, her leg, in the quietness of the house. Olin had gone over to the clubhouse, leaving her alone with Trik for the first time.

  In her worry that he'd get hurt, cry, or miss his dad, she'd stuck by his side. When an hour went by and the only thing that riled Trik was when she told him he couldn't jump off the couch because he could get hurt, she'd relaxed.

  He wasn't like other children she'd been around. Trik was perfect. A miniature Olin and yet inquisitive, accepting, and loving.

  "Mommy?"

  "Yes?" she said, understanding that to Trik saying mommy was the same as calling her Johanna, Sydney, Kylie. She was an adult to him, and as such, he looked up to her for guidance because his father had surrounded him with people who were good and safe.

  "Me hungry."

  "Well, we'll need to do something about that, won't we?" She bent her legs and pushed to her feet, holding out her hand. "Let's see what your daddy has in the cabinets for a growing boy."

  "Me a growing boy," said Trik.

  "You sure are." She smiled down at him. "I like peanut butter. Do you?"

  Trik gripped the edge of the counter and tried to lift his feet off the ground. Taking his non-answer as a yes, she made him a peanut butter sandwich with grape jelly and herded him to the table and up on a chair.

  A rumble came into the house from the outside. The hair on the back of her neck stood, and she sat beside Trik. The noise as familiar to her as Olin's gruff voice and had the same tantalizing reaction in her.

  Seconds after the motorcycle shut off, the door opened, and Olin walked in. "We're going out."

  Trik wiggled on his chair in excitement. Ashley stood and pushed in her chair. "I just gave him a half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He said he was hungry."

  "He's got time to finish." He stepped sideways toward the hallway. "I just need to throw some of his stuff in a bag, and we'll take off."

  "Daddy?" said Trik around a mouth full of sandwich.

  "Eat up." Olin knocked on the wall. "Every bite."

  She looked at her son and then loud enough so Olin would hear, she said, "Okay. I'll tell him goodbye and let myself out."