Blood & Bones: Trip (Blood Fury MC Book 1)

by Jeanne St. James

  That warmth in her belly suddenly mixed with uncertainty because it wouldn’t take much for things to go badly. Like it had when their fathers were wearing those same cuts the guys wore today.

  That unsureness and worry pushed away that warmth. But her gut turned to a block of ice with his next question.

  “Would you have another one?”

  Shit. She could hardly inhale enough air to ask, “One what?”

  His palm slid from where it was settled possessively over the S pendant lying between her breasts to her belly. Right where her scars were. Right where her stretch marks were. Right where she nurtured her own baby while he grew inside her.

  “Kid.”

  Her heart began to pound in her ears. Why was he doing this now? They’d had a good day. A perfect day full of sun, smiles and laughter. Why was he bringing the darkness into the night? “I... don’t know.”

  “Want a son.”

  Stella moved her hand to settle next to his, not touching, but close, as she remembered her stretched belly, the moment Kade was placed on her chest with his umbilical cord still attached. The first time he latched on and nursed. When he ate his first solid food. When he said his first word. When he first said, “Momma.” When he first stood, first walked. First rode a bike without training wheels. His first skinned knee she kissed. The tears—both hers and his—on the first day of kindergarten.

  When he caught his first fish with his father on the shore of the Susquehanna River. A Sunny. But she would have thought it was a fifty-pound tuna with how big his smile was. How big his father’s smile was.

  All of those memories so precious. Priceless.

  While she was glad she had those, she was also sad she no longer had new ones to store away. And never would. That opportunity had been ripped from her.

  Even so, she never wanted to replace Kade. Never. He’d always own her heart. And not just a piece of it, either.

  “I’m not sure I can give you that.”

  “Truth is, want more than one. And I need to put that out there, baby. You need to think about that.”

  Her chest was becoming tight, the pressure beginning to crush her. He was asking too much, too soon.

  “I don’t know if I can wear your cut, Trip. I don’t know if I can give you sons. I don’t know if I can give you what you want. And if I can’t and you still claim me, anyway... And then you go elsewhere to get what I can’t give you...” She rubbed at the crushing weight in her chest which had turned into an ache.

  He rolled enough to put his own weight on her, which made her feel even more suffocated. In the dark, his fingers found her jawline and spread along her cheek. And when he talked, his breath meshed with hers. “Sons or no sons, Stella, I’m not goin’ anywhere else. It’s somethin’ I want. Somethin’ I’ve always wanted. But...” Air rushed over her cheek. “But that’s not gonna change the way I feel about you.”

  Until later. Months, maybe years, when he realized he sacrificed something he wanted, something important to him, just to have her.

  When he realized she hadn’t been worth giving up that dream.

  When he became bitter and blamed her.

  When another woman showed up with a son who looked just like Trip.

  That would destroy her.

  Totally fucking destroy her.

  She wanted to ask how he felt about her. No, not ask. Demand an answer.

  Because she needed to know.

  She also didn’t want to know.

  He had broken her heart all those years ago, the day he split open her head.

  She wasn’t sure she had a piece of her heart left to give him.

  She was worried the little she did have, it wouldn’t take much to rip it right back out of her chest.

  He’d been the one filling her darkness with some light. But he could also be the one to extinguish it.

  And she wasn’t ready to give him all that power.

  She wasn’t sure she could give him everything he wanted.

  So, while yes, today had been a great day, now she knew this night would not be the same.

  “You can’t do this, Stella, fuckin’ tell me now. Because I am not goin’ to catch your ass in bed with another man. Fuckin’ tellin’ you right now, you’re either with me or you’re not. I need to know.”

  He just said nothing would change the way he felt about her, but maybe what he felt wasn’t what she thought.

  She could hear the heat in his words when he growled, “Need a solid answer, Stel. Either with me or you’re not. Told Rook he’s either in or he’s out. Nothin’ half-assed. Tellin’ you the same thing. Don’t have the fuckin’ time or patience for games.”

  And she did? She wasn’t playing games. She just couldn’t make a decision like that. Not now, not yet. “Why can’t we continue as we are?”

  What was wrong with what they currently had? Why did he have to push her?

  He jerked against her, his fingertips digging into her cheek. Not enough to be painful, but enough to make her very aware his temper was rising. “Continue what? Us fuckin’? Me gettin’ your ass out of a jam? That all you want? To use me?”

  Use him. That was the last thing she wanted to do. But she also didn’t want to feel used.

  She needed to shut this down because her own blood was now at a simmer and it wouldn’t take much to bring it to a boil. And that would get neither of them anywhere. Any major decisions needed to be made with a clear head. “I’m done talking about this, Trip. I can’t give you an answer right now. And if you can’t accept that...” She let that hang.

  He released her and rolled away, giving her his back. “Then you sleep on it. But I need an answer soon.”

  She stared at that back and even in the dark her eyes could see the club’s colors permanently inked into his skin, permanently a part of him.

  She reached out to trace them with her fingers, but before she made contact, she balled those fingers into a fist and dropped her hand to the bed instead.

  The Tree of Life had meaning for her, it’s why she had it done, just like those colors had meaning for him.

  But did they mean the same to her?

  Being with Trip would mean being a part of the club. And she wasn’t sure she was willing to be a part of it, too, especially with what she knew was involved. Being BFMC as a girl had not been the best experience, and not only did he want her to be involved, he wanted her to have his children and involve them, too.

  He wanted her to sleep on it.

  But for her, sleep became impossible to find.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Trip used his key to get into the rear door of Crazy Pete’s. He locked it behind him, took long, fuck-this-shit strides down the short, dark hallway, slammed the swinging door to the store room with both palms, making it crash into the wall behind it. He was through it and at the bottom of the stairway before it violently swung the other direction with a loud whoosh.

  He took the stairs two at a time, the muscles in his jaw so tight, they were popping.

  The second he woke up. The second he rolled over. The goddamn second he noticed the bed was empty.

  The second he knew somehow her piece of shit Jeep traveling down the rough lane hadn’t woken him up.

  That very fucking second he knew he’d lost her.

  He had pushed the kid thing before he should have. But he’d needed to know. He needed to know where she stood on it.

  He should have let it lie. He didn’t and now he was going to pay for his impatience.

  He should have waited until after the meeting, until after the vote on making Stella his ol’ lady. Until after she was permanently moved into his house.

  Until she was a solid part of his life. Of their life.

  Then he could have gradually worked on her. Showed her life could be good again. Life could be complete.

  Showed her that he’d have plenty to offer her and their kids, if they had them.

  Once she saw the businesses, both the bar and the mot
el, as well as the repo business, were successful, so that she and their kids would want for nothing.

  Once he proved his fucking loyalty to her.

  Once the club was crawling with sweet butts and female hang-arounds and she’d see he only had eyes for her.

  But fuck no.

  He had fucked up.

  And now he had to pay.

  Those steps they’d taken forward in the last month? He’d undone it all in a matter of minutes and now he’d stumbled twice as many steps backward.

  She had scars.

  Not just the one on her scalp he’d given her.

  Not just the one on her belly her pregnancy had caused.

  But the loss of her son had scarred her deeply. And irrevocably.

  So deeply, Trip didn’t know how to handle such pain. Because no matter how much he tried to imagine that pain, he knew he couldn’t.

  He wanted to hand her the fucking world. Even if it was their own small world. But instead he had handed her some hurt.

  He didn’t mean to. But he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

  Because as much as she hurt, she also needed to live her life. He needed to live his. And he was trying to build their world together.

  However, her fucking sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, or the early morning, while he was zonked out, pissed him the fuck off.

  That was not how they were going to deal with shit.

  Not by running away.

  Not by hiding.

  Not by curling into a ball in the corner.

  Or putting their arms over their heads, hoping it all went away.

  Because it wouldn’t. It simply wouldn’t go away.

  It was something they needed to deal with head on.

  At the top of the steps, he paused at the door and pressed his forehead to it, his breath beating violently against the wood. After a moment, he closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, held it as his pulse pounded in his ears, and counted to five. While he did so, memories assaulted him.

  One.

  Him so pissed and shoving Stella so hard she split her head open on a wall. But it was the look in her eyes after it happened... The surprise. The betrayal. The disappointment. Fuck.

  Two.

  Buck and Pete kicking his ass so badly, he couldn’t walk for a couple days. He didn’t beg them to stop because of that look she gave him... He knew he deserved what they did to him.

  Three.

  His father splayed on his stomach naked on the bed, bleeding out from being shot point-blank in the back. He had broken everyone’s trust. And trust was huge in a brotherhood.

  Four.

  His mother quickly packing their bags and taking off in the middle of the night, not only leaving his best friend behind but also everything and everyone he’d ever known.

  Five.

  Finding out too late his best friend was actually his brother. When he finally tried to get a hold of Sig, he was gone.

  Trip slowly released his held breath, his boiling blood now at a simmer.

  It wasn’t their choice to scatter. They all were forced into it.

  All Trip wanted to do was take the broken pieces of the club and make it whole again. To repair what had been shattered.

  It had been his burning desire. To have something that was his.

  To build something worthwhile.

  To give him a reason to continue. A reason to stay out of jail. A reason to rise up and move forward.

  He was doing what he set out to do.

  He hadn’t started this journey with the intent to have a woman by his side. He could still do it without her.

  He could.

  But he didn’t want to.

  He refused to.

  Everything had gone full circle.

  Which, to him, meant it was meant to be.

  So, he was not going to let her run away from him, from the club, from the only people left who she could call family.

  She needed them as much as they needed her.

  Maybe she needed them all a little more right now. For support. But eventually they may need to lean on her. That was what family was for.

  That was what a real family, not necessarily made up of blood, was for.

  A give and take.

  Those who stuck around through the highs and the lows.

  Those who could fight one minute, then laugh the next.

  This wasn’t Buck’s club anymore. This wasn’t Buck’s family, either.

  It was fucking Trip’s.

  And, goddamn it, Stella was a part of it.

  His fingers curled around the doorknob. But before he could turn it, before he could see if she’d locked him out, it turned.

  He straightened as it opened.

  The apartment wasn’t lit. The limited light came from the couple windows that faced the back alley. But it was bright enough for him to read her expression.

  Which made him want to puke.

  He had lost her.

  He had done something stupid again.

  And now he was going to pay.

  The dark circles under her eyes, her drawn face, her pale skin.

  She hadn’t slept.

  She probably hadn’t eaten, either.

  She was retreating. Escaping to that dark place that had consumed her in the past and cutting him out.

  That was not going to work for Trip.

  If she couldn’t do this with him, if she couldn’t do this for them, then she needed to tell him that to his face. Not run away, refusing to deal with it.

  “Tell me to fuck off, Stella. Tell me to my face. Tell me how I’m not good enough for you. Or how I’m not good for you. Tell me how much I remind you of your first husband. How you think I’ll be just like him and let you the fuck down. Tell me how you’re worried that I’ll fuck up your life and make it impossible for you to live it. Tell me how I’ll destroy everything for you. Need you to tell me all that to my face. Need to hear it from you, not just read it in your face.”

  His stomach was so twisted, his chest in pain. And the need to puke was only getting stronger.

  This was killing him.

  If she told him to fuck off, he would respect that and walk away. They would remain partners in the bar, but that would be it. But if that happened, he knew it would be harder than him doing six years in the joint.

  Giving up on Stella would be harder than doing goddamn time. And doing time sucked ass.

  It took everything he had not to fall to his knees when he whispered, “Talk to me.”

  Her expression twisted and she turned away from him to hide it, which gave him the opportunity to move past her and into the apartment. He shut the door with his boot, keeping his eyes on her.

  He stayed by the door, watching as her shoulders rounded forward, as her head dropped, as she kept her back to him.

  Hiding.

  “Perseverance.” He let that single, but powerful, word fill the quiet apartment. Let it engulf them for a moment. “That word means to not give up. You’re givin’ up. You should have that tattoo fuckin’ covered up, Stella. You don’t deserve it.”

  It was harsh. He knew it. It cut him deep, too. But he needed her to talk to him. And if he had to push her to do it, he would. Because without talking, they’d never move forward. Not together. Not apart. They’d remain in limbo.

  And that was not a good place to be, for either one of them.

  “I don’t know if I can do this.” Her strained answer tore through him.

  Fuck. He dug deep to ask, “Do what?” She needed to say it. He needed to hear it no matter how painful it would be.

  “This... Us.”

  Bile bubbled up from his gut, but he kept his mouth shut and, as difficult as it was, gave her time to say her piece.

  She turned toward him, and even in the limited light he could see her eyes were shiny, her expression tortured. He probably looked the same. Because he sure as fuck felt like it.

  She threw a hand out. “It’s been th
ree weeks since you went up that mountain and I still can’t stop thinking about the tow truck and how it looked. The cuts on your back and neck, Trip. Not only how dangerous that job is, but how dangerous being in an MC can be. Look what happened to your father. He was fucking shot in the back.” Her words caught on a sob.

  Her being upset gave him a sliver of hope. That meant she felt something for him. That she worried about him. The same as he did for her.

  He hadn’t said it out loud because he wanted to make sure she felt the same before he did. There was no fucking way he was telling her how much he loved her without her not returning that love. There was no fucking way he was going to rip himself open and sacrifice himself if she wasn’t willing to do the same.

  But he needed to assure her of one thing. His loyalty. “Don’t plan on gettin’ caught with my dick in someone else’s ol’ lady. Or, hell, any other woman. Stella, it would be you and you only. Trust me on that.”

  He remembered what it felt like to find another man fucking his wife. He’d never want her to feel that betrayal. That disappointment. That fury.

  “You know it’s more than that. There always is with an MC. This isn’t some tennis club or bowling league, Trip. This. Is. A. Fucking. Motorcycle. Club. This is serious shit.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, squeezing, like she was feeling just as sick as him.

  Like her stomach had also been carved out with a spoon.

  “I know what the fuck it is. But it’s a family first and foremost, Stella. Family. Got that?”

  “Family that can turn on each other in a blink of an eye. Family who likes to party, get drunk, carry guns and knives. A group of alpha males who beat their chest thinking they’re invincible and can get triggered easily into violence. One wrong word. One wrong move. We’ve seen it. You. Me. Sig. Judge. Rook. All of us. We witnessed what can happen. We were a part of it. We were the fallout. There’s no guarantee that won’t happen again. No guarantee you won’t end up dead. I just can’t... I can’t...”

  She was right, he couldn’t give her that guarantee. “We all die eventually.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. “You did not just say that.”

  “Yeah, I did, baby, because it’s true. We can’t live our lives worried what may happen, because then we’re not livin’ it. You get that?”