Family: The Club Girl Diaries Book 5

by Addison Jane

  I growled in frustration. “So everyone likes to fucking remind me.”

  I was sad that Kit and Harmony only stayed one night with us before they headed home. But they had doctors’ visits and things they needed to organize to get this whole baby making process moving. I understood, I just missed her.

  It was hard when Harmony moved to be with Kit. But we both knew that they were meant to be together, there was no question or doubts about it. He made her happy, just like Op made me happy, and I would deal with the distance between us if it meant that we both had these men in our lives.

  After dropping off Harlyn at school Monday morning, I was heading home when my cell dinged with a text message. I pulled over, thinking it could be Op needing something at the club, or Rose freaking out about the meeting that they were having this afternoon with regards to Jayla’s custody hearing.

  They’d asked Optimus and me to join them for support as this would be the first face to face with the people who were trying to take Jayla from their lives. I knew there was no way Blizzard was going to stand for that. It was going to be tense, there was no doubt about it. But it had to be done, and I would support them in whatever way I could until Jay was permanently part of the club.

  Looking at my cell, I was surprised to see who the message was from.

  Deacon: You have time for coffee at the diner? Got some things for you.

  Deacon and I had kept in touch regularly since all the drama happened between him and the club. I knew Optimus wasn’t fond of the relationship we’d built, but he understood my need to keep Deacon in my life. He was a connection to my past that until it reared its head, I never knew I needed.

  I checked the time and noted that I had plenty to spare before I needed to be at the clubhouse. The meeting wasn’t until 2:00 p.m.

  Me: Be there in 5.

  I made a quick detour around to May’s Diner. By the time I’d struggled out of the car, Deacon was pulling up in his police cruiser.

  “Hey…” he grinned, “…looking good there.”

  I glared at him across the roof of his car. “Shut your mouth.”

  Today I’d struggled into a loose fitting pair of yoga pants and a baggy shirt. I wasn’t exactly happy about the outfit, but my legs desperately needed shaving and up until recently, I’d still been able to do them myself. But not anymore. I tried, which almost ended in me toppling out the shower door and onto the floor. Realizing that it just wasn’t going to happen, and having a little cry to myself, I made a mental note to ask Op to do them for me when I got back.

  Obviously, I wasn’t planning on seeing anyone or getting out of the car between the club and the school, so this was an unfortunate situation I would have to put on my big girl panties and deal with it.

  “You want coffee?” Deacon asked, trying desperately to hold his laughter as we found a booth and I barely managed to squeeze inside.

  “I can’t drink coffee, caffeine is bad apparently,” I grunted. “But I’ll have a milkshake. Strawberry.”

  “On it.” He nodded and went to the counter to order.

  “So… to what do I owe the pleasure today?” I asked when he returned and slipped into the booth opposite me. Deacon was a good looking guy. Okay, more than good looking. Maybe ruggedly handsome. But my attraction to him was non-existent anymore. I guess I saw him almost like a brotherly figure now.

  “So my dad was cleaning out his garage, going through boxes and shit so he could send unwanted clothes and toys to the shelters,” Deacon explained as he leaned forward and fished into his back pocket. “And he found these.” He placed some photos on the table in front of me.

  I leaned forward, trying to make out the people in the picture as it was obviously old and a little worn. There were two men standing side by side, both grinning widely at the camera with one arm over each other’s shoulder.

  “That’s my dad,” Deacon offered, pointing his finger at the man on the right side.

  Now I could see the resemblance. The sharp bone structure, the deep set brow.

  “He looks like you,” I said, looking up with a soft smile.

  Deacon chuckled. “Yeah, he looks pretty good still now. It’s nice to know I’ll likely age gracefully.”

  Our orders were placed down on the table, and I instantly picked up my milkshake and placed the straw in my mouth.

  “You don’t get it yet?” He laughed, taking a sip of his coffee.

  I frowned at him. “I didn’t know there was something to get.” Maybe it was my baby brain, or maybe he just hadn’t made it clear enough, but I was confused.

  He sighed deeply, shaking his head with a smile. “That’s my dad and his best friend… your father, Chelsea.”

  I choked on the liquid that was slipping down my throat, and Deacon was instantly at my side, patting my back to try and help me clear the airway. “Breathe… God, don’t tell Optimus I almost killed you with a milkshake.”

  I tried to laugh, but it came out as a gurgle as I coughed and coughed until I could breathe again. Snatching a napkin off the table, I dabbed at my watering eyes. Deacon took his seat again but watched me with a serious face full of worry.

  “I’m okay,” I told him, waving my hand dismissively. “That was just… a shock.” I still hadn’t looked back down at the photo.

  I should have recognized him. Why didn’t I recognize him?

  I still had memories of times with my parents, only a couple but they were still there. I thought I could envision them so clearly, so vividly. Seeing them racing around the backyard and my dad reading me a bedtime story with funny voices and sounds. I looked down at the picture again, a flood of emotions rushing over me like waves at the beach. Just one after another. The more I stared at the picture, I could start to hear his voice in my head and the sound of his deep rolling laughter—laughter I remember always comparing to Santa Claus. It was so deep, so rough.

  I traced his face, the picture was obviously faded because I couldn’t see his bright blue eyes. They were dulled. I didn’t get my eyes from my dad. They were all Mom’s. I wasn’t even sure what color you would call them, maybe like a murky green.

  Feeling my babies shuffling inside me, I began to well up, a reminder that my children would never get to meet their grandparents.

  Deacon picked up the top photo and placed it to the side.

  I gasped.

  There she was.

  Standing between my dad and Deacon’s dad, smiling so brightly.

  “Don’t stop running. No matter what. Never stop. Don’t stop running.”

  “But Mommy...” I sniffed, clutching at her dress as she lifted me up and placed me through the window. There were raised voices in another room, one of which I recognized as my father’s. A gunshot rang out loudly from what sounded like the kitchen.

  “Run Chelsea, run.”

  I took one last look at my mom, her eyes pleaded with me to move. I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing out the last tears and turned away. I took off toward the woods behind our house, passing into the cover just as I heard the second shot echo through the dark night.

  I didn’t stop running.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks and I sniffed loudly. Those eyes, the same eyes that I look at and see in the mirror every morning. That night they were filled with so much pain, so much heartache as she realized what she would have to do. Give up her life to save mine.

  Deacon slipped into the booth beside me and wrapped his arm around me. I leaned my head against his shoulder as I picked up the photo, swiping at my tears to try and get my eyes to focus.

  My mom had one hand resting on her stomach, which I could see now was rounded. She was pregnant with me. A small pain shot through my stomach and I cringed, gripping the edge of the table in my hand.

  “Woah there,” Deacon soothed, looking at me in pure concern. “Are you okay?”

  The pain began to subside and my heart rate came down. I eased out my breath, trying not to panic at the strange sensation. The doctor did e
xplain that things like Braxton Hicks contractions could come along at some time but not to worry.

  “Yeah, just one of those fake contractions I think.”

  “Uh-uh, no way. I’m calling Optimus.” He pulled his cell from his pocket. Usually, I would tell him to stop being a damn idiot and put it away. But right now, Optimus was actually exactly what I needed. I was feeling overwhelmed, and I knew that wasn’t Deacon’s intention. He thought this would be a happy moment, a good thing for me to see. But all I felt right now was pressure building inside my chest.

  It was easy to work through things when the people in your head and in your memories almost felt like figments of your imagination. I never had any toys or objects from that period of time. I left with the clothes on my back, and even they were taken in for evidence when I was finally found. I had nothing to touch or to feel or to see, anything that I knew would prove that they were real, apart from the pain inside when I thought of them.

  But now, now I could see the love in their eyes, their smiles and their presence.

  And you know what? At that point I was so numb, I couldn’t even tell if the emotion I was feeling was utter joy or complete devastation.

  I stormed into the diner with Blizzard at my back.

  Deacon saw me coming. He was in his police uniform and I’d caught his cruiser parked outside next to Chelsea’s car. To say I was furious was an understatement. I’d put up with his bullshit, and accepted the need for Chelsea to be in touch with him. He was her link to a past that she had very little recognition of, and a reminder of how strong and amazing both her mother and father were. But what I didn’t appreciate, was him doing something so stupid without me being able to be there when Chelsea broke down.

  She was one of the strongest women I knew. She held her own, stood up for herself and for the people she fucking cared about. But her past still hung over her head. The pressure she was under knowing that soon she would be a mother was huge. I know she didn’t show it often, but I could see it in her eyes.

  I had strong memories of my mom and dad. Sure, I’d lost them both, but they had raised me to be the man I was today. I knew what it was like to hear my mom scold me for talking back and fighting when I was in school. My father’s voice still echoed in my head every time I sat in Church, every time I had to make a decision that would affect my brothers and loved ones.

  There were still people around me that talked about them like they’d seen them yesterday—my father’s bike was still sitting in the club garage for anytime I needed that connection to him.

  Chelsea was six when her parents died and she had been left with nothing.

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” I snapped as I approached the table.

  Chelsea’s eyes looked up to me, they were red and puffy. “Optimus… don’t, please,” she pleaded, reaching out her hand to me.

  I took it, helping her wiggle out of the small booth. She instantly wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face into my chest like a small child who needed comforting.

  Deacon’s jaw ticked in annoyance. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...”

  “Let’s take this outside shall we,” Blizzard urged. “May’s gonna ban us from this place if we cause a damn scene.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  Deacon threw some money onto the table and followed us out.

  “Optimus, just leave it alone.” Chelsea’s voice had grown harder now that she’d found her strength. Me. “He didn’t mean to upset me. They’re just photos, I overreacted.”

  “Like fucking hell,” I growled. “You haven’t seen your parents since you were six years old, and he expects this to not upset you somehow? Get in the car with Blizzard, I’ll bring yours home after I’ve had a little chat with Deacon.”

  “Op—”

  “Now,” I ordered, looking her directly in the eye.

  On a heavy sigh, she tiptoed up and kissed my lips before stepping away. There was a tightness in her features letting me know that this wasn’t done, but she would give me this. One thing about Chelsea was that she wasn’t afraid to tell me what she thought, but she’d spent long enough in the club to know that our business is our business, and we don’t have arguments in front of outsiders or brothers. She respected the rules we had in place and she respected me and my position within the club. That was one of the things that made her the perfect Old Lady.

  She gets her say, and in the bedroom she can yell and scream at me until the damn cows come home, but not here, and not now.

  “Bye Deacon.” She offered him a smile to which he returned. “Thank you.” She tried to hand him back the photos, but he held up his hand.

  “Keep them. They obviously mean a lot to you. My dad won’t mind.”

  Her eyes sparkled and she nodded, turning to walk to Blizzard’s truck, but not before throwing me a warning glare, which I ignored.

  I waited until Blizzard was on the road with her before I turned my attention and frustrations on the man who I held respect for, but that continued to be a pain in my fucking ass. “You’re a fucking dumb ass, you know that?” I growled, folding my arms across my chest.

  He leaned against the side of his cruiser. “Yeah, apparently.”

  “Chelsea is hormonal and fragile and stressed right now.” I felt like I was telling off a damn toddler, but obviously he needed to hear it, or he wouldn’t have done something like this in the first place. “You know that when it comes to her mom and dad, it’s a sore point. You should have come to me!”

  “We aren’t exactly BFF’s, Op. We can barely hold a fucking civil conversation without you looking like you want to rip my head off,” he challenged. “I thought you trusted me.”

  I groaned, running my fingers through my hair. “You’ve had our backs recently. I get that, and I’m thankful to have you around. But when it comes to Chelsea, you’re her best friend and her worst enemy all rolled into one. You’re a reminder of the one thing she wished she had, especially right now, her mom and dad.”

  His body tightened but his head bobbed. “I remember her dad telling me once when they came to visit, ‘you’ll watch out for her, won’t you.’ We were going out the back of the house by ourselves to play on the jungle gym my dad had just built for me. And being so young, I took those words so seriously. And I still do.”

  Part of me understood where he was coming from, and appreciated the fact that she had someone else on her side. But the caveman part of me wanted to tell him to go to hell and find his own woman to watch out for. I tried my best to balance the both.

  “I get it. You feel like you owe him that much. But what you’ve gotta realize, is that she’s with me. I know that woman better than anyone else in this damn world.” I made sure I had his eyes, I needed to know he was hearing me. “So next time you think of doing something like this for her, throw me a goddamn heads up. I’ll either let you know it’s fine or tell you to fuck off. But my priority is her.”

  I could see the tightness in his face. He didn’t want to lay down and take what I was telling him. He wanted to punch me in the face and yell at me about how I don’t own her, how she’s her own person.

  But he’s wrong.

  I own her heart. That’s a piece of her he will never have.

  “We can respect each other, work together on shit if we need to, but we ain’t ever gonna be friends unless you give up this obsession with her, and thinking that because you have a past together that it means you’ll have a future.”

  I laid it out flat.

  He could take it or leave it.

  But if he continued to go behind my back and do shit like this, he wasn’t going to like the consequences.

  “I hear you,” he ground out through tight lips. “Just so you know… she had some pain in there. It looked intense.” He pushed off from the side of his car and rounded to the driver’s door, lifting his chin at me before he climbed inside.

  I wasn’t sure if he got my message, or if he would even pay attention. But a
t least now, we were both on the same page, and I wasn’t about to let him try and rewrite the story.

  Chelsea was waiting in our room when I finally got back to the clubhouse. She sat in the middle of the bed, her legs folded so her knees were out to the side and her stomach resting in between. She was growing every single day, nourishing those babies so they were happy and healthy.

  I didn’t care if they were boys or girls or both. But I knew that no matter what they were, the love their mother would hold for them would be rivaled by none.

  “They’re fighting again,” she murmured without even looking up at me, her eyes focused on her belly, her hands teasing the babies as they poked and prodded at her from the inside. “You think they’re going to fight a lot when they get older?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrugged off my cut and hung it over the small sofa to my right before walking over to the bed. “I’m sure they’ll learn quickly that that shit won’t be tolerated around here.”

  This was when she finally looked up at me. “Op… how do I know if I’ll be a good mom? I know what I want to do, how I want to raise them. But what if I give in too easily and can’t tell them no? What if I give them candy to stop them from throwing tantrums? What if I teach them the wrong way to—”

  “Blackbird, stop!”

  She heaved in a heavy breath through her nose before letting it whoosh out through her mouth. “I can’t remember what my parents’ parenting was like,” she admitted in frustration. “Today, when I saw those photos, I’d barely been able to recognize my dad. I thought I knew them. I thought I knew what they were like, but I really don’t. I only have the few small memories and even those are fuzzy now.”

  I let her speak as I slipped onto the bed beside her and placed my hand on her belly so we could share in the delights of our karate kids. “From even the tiny memories you have of your mom and dad, you know in your heart that they were amazing parents. They laughed and played, and when it came down to it, they gave up their lives to protect their daughter,” I explained, running my fingers through her hair and pulling it back from her face. “It doesn’t matter if you had shitty role models growing up and asshole foster parents who couldn’t give a flying fuck about the children they had, that doesn’t change who you are as a person. Hell, it probably made you a better person.”