Creatively Crushed (Reckless Bastards MC Book 6)

by KB Winters

  Haynes sighed again and glared at his partner. “We do have questions, Ms. Vanderbilt.”

  “I see that, but my attorney will insist on being present for the kind of questions you have, Detective.” I almost felt bad for Haynes but just like he had a job to do, I had a responsibility to protect myself and my son.

  “Here’s my card. Have your attorney call to set up a time. We need to talk.”

  “Or you could just tell us now and we’ll be gone,” Dodds offered with a grimace that was probably meant to be a smile.

  “Maybe next time you’ll be a little nicer to the citizens you get paid to serve. Have a nice day and please, don’t come back here harassing me, not even if you need art supplies.” My shoulders sank in relief when the three men left and Cross locked the door behind them.

  “Exciting day?”

  A tired laugh burst out of me. “A bit dramatic for my taste. What brings you by?”

  He smirked and grabbed one of my curls, twirling it around his finger. “I came to tell you about Vigo and ran into the cops outside. Were you really gonna shoot White Boy Craig?”

  Another laugh burst out of me at the absurdity of that name. I guess a woman named Moon had no room to talk, but still. “I didn’t want to, but I would have if I needed to.”

  “I’ll just bet you would. Where’s—?”

  “Mom! Is everything all right?”

  I gasped and went to Beau, nearly falling backwards because I forgot Cross was attached to me by the curl. He released me and I sprang forward, wrapping my arms around my little boy. “Everything is fine, Beau. Just fine.”

  “Mommmm, too tight.”

  “Sorry.” I stepped back and that gave him the time he needed to peek around me to Cross.

  “Mr. Cross!” He darted around me and came to a near skidding stop, right in front of Cross. And then he wrapped his arms around him. “Hi.”

  “Hey, kid. How’s it going?”

  “Okay. How’s your scars?” He reached up to touch Cross’s lip and when he grinned in return, I felt things I shouldn’t have.

  “Better. How’s your breathing?”

  “Better. You want to have dinner with us?” Finally realizing he wasn’t the adult in this family, Beau turned to me with wide, pleading eyes. “Right Mom?”

  “Sure. Cross is welcome to join us for dinner but only if he’s available. Remember?”

  “Right. Are you available for dinner?” Beau asked in an almost grown-up way.

  Cross couldn’t stifle the laughter this time. “Let me check my schedule and I’ll let you know. Think I can have a couple minutes to talk with your mom?”

  Beau nodded and walked away, almost certainly to the book he had tucked away in the back.

  “You’re good with him.” He was better than good, and Beau ate up his attention, starved for it since he’d never had much male influence beyond a teacher here and there.

  “He’s a cool kid.”

  Cross was the best. Maybe too good.

  “So this Vigo character is dead?”

  “Yep. Car accident.” I arched my brows when he flashed one of those heart-stopping grins at me and I felt my knees buckle. “That’s the truth.”

  “Works for me. I assume you have an alibi?”

  “Don’t need one because I didn’t do anything. I just wanted you to know he won’t be bothering you again.”

  Cross really was sweet even though I knew he’d balk at the word.

  “You don’t have to come for dinner if you don’t want to. I’ll explain to Beau.”

  “Are you taking back my invite?” His mouth spread into a grin that I didn’t just want to kiss, I wanted to devour it.

  But that wasn’t why he was here. “It’s not my invitation to rescind, Cross. I’m just saying that you don’t have to feel obligated.”

  “I don’t. I’m hungry and glad that I’m getting a home cooked meal.” He patted that flat and hard stomach that I knew was covered equal parts in muscle and body art.

  “You’ll have to set the table, though.”

  “I can handle it, Moon.”

  Not once since I legally changed my name had it sounded so good on another person’s lips. Especially those lips. “Then let’s go do it. Dinner. I mean. Let’s go eat dinner.”

  “I’m game, either way, baby.” His smile looked like it came straight from the devil himself.

  And I may—or may not—have melted on my way to get Beau.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cross

  What the fuck was I thinking making a statement like that? I wasn’t thinking. Couldn’t possibly be thinking to have said some shit like that, because Moon was a mom and I had to remember that. There was a reason I hadn’t messed around with single moms because they deserved better than a man like me. Especially these days. I let Lauren down and I wouldn’t put myself in that position again.

  “You okay, big guy?” Moon looked at me with a worried grin that I found far too appealing.

  “Yeah, just wondering when I last had to set a table.” Lauren used to set the table because she loved to make shit beautiful but that was years ago and the Reckless Bastards weren’t the table setting type. Unless a woman was involved.

  “Well I figured I could use you since I’m cooking. Beau gets to see a big strapping man setting the table.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows at her. “You think I’m big and strapping?”

  When Moon laughed she did it with her whole body, bent over with her shoulders shaking and her hair falling everywhere. “I think we both know that I do. How have you been sleeping?”

  Nothing got by this woman and I needed to remember that. “A few hours here and there.”

  “And the breathing exercises?”

  My lips quirked up. “You know I’ve been working on it but, you see, I have this problem. Whenever I breathe in real deep the only thing I can smell is you.”

  She shivered. Even with most of the kitchen between us, I saw it. “As flattering as that is, if you don’t get enough sleep you won’t be able to do much about it, will you?”

  “Right to the point, huh?”

  “Mom says there’s no time to waste!” Beau went into the kitchen and pulled the silverware from a drawer and came up to me. “I’ll go behind you.”

  I put a napkin down and then a plate and the kid came up behind me and set a knife and fork on each napkin. It was a little two-person assembly line and after one quick spin around the table, we were done. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Welcome. Want to see my room?” The kid definitely didn’t waste time and he wasn’t shy about asking for what he wanted.

  “As long as your mom doesn’t need any more help.” I didn’t want to be just another mouth for her to feed.

  “I’m good. You guys go have fun and Beau?”

  “Yes, Mom.” He sounded like an annoyed teenager.

  “Let Cross get a few words in too, okay?”

  “Okay, Mom!” He rolled his eyes and signaled me to follow him. “You can talk first. Did you always ride a motorcycle? Is that your only motorcycle? Do you drive it in the cold, too?”

  This kid was something else for eight years old. Talkative and kind and smart. As hard as it was to sit with him that day at the hospital, just a few weeks ago, it was now easy. Relaxing, even. “Not until I was twenty but I always wanted one. I do have a car and yes, I ride my bike in the cold.”

  “Can I ride it?” He pushed open his door and I stared into the ultimate boy’s room. His bed showed his love of science and space, with a big swath of stars on it. But his walls were an eight-year-old’s fascination with sports, the walls plastered with baseball, football and hockey posters.

  “I think we both know that’s up to your mom.” And I had a feeling she wouldn’t want her son on the back of motorcycle. And I didn’t blame her. “So what do you like to play with?”

  Beau showed off his shelf of Legos, then talked and talked, which explained why Moon had warned the kid to let me get a few wo
rds in. He never ran out of breath. But I liked listening to him talk about his love of hockey—even though his asthma didn’t allow him to play sports—his fascination with going to space and finding new planets. His love of all things with wheels.

  “Do you like sci-fi? Mom’s letting me watch Star Trek on Netflix.”

  “Which one?” He shrugged and looked up at me with those big, all-seeing eyes.

  “Do you have a family, Mr. Cross?”

  “No Beau, I don’t. I had a wife but she got sick and died.” I hated even thinking about it and I couldn’t believe I just told that shit to a kid. This was why I wasn’t fit to be around kids.

  His eyes went dark and I couldn’t read them, but then he said, “That sucks,” and it was like he could read my heart.

  Damn. This kid had the soul of an old man. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Now tell me about that big stacks of books over there.”

  He smiled at me and I knew it was the right question. Besides, being around Beau and Moon, especially now with all this shit swirling around inside of me and this fucking town, it made me feel a little less broken and scarred. A bit more normal.

  For now, it was enough.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Moon

  Days after Cross had joined us for dinner, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d overheard outside Beau’s room. He was a widower and from the sound of things, Cross still suffered from the loss. It explained the sadness I often saw in his eyes. Every time I thought about it, my heart broke for him all over again. And to top it all off, the way he talked to Beau about it, so matter of fact, was perfect.

  So perfect that Beau hadn’t stopped talking about Cross since he left our house that night, which made it impossible to stop thinking about the man. And I really, really needed to. A few sessions of unbelievably amazing sex was no reason to start obsessing about a man, especially one with so much on his plate already.

  I shook thoughts of Cross out of my mind as I pulled up in front of Beau’s school. Today was the last day of school which meant three months of me and my favorite guy hanging out and having fun. But first we had an important appointment with a new specialist.

  Even though Beau was smarter than the average kid, I knew the time would come when he’d find hanging out with his mom boring and uncool. So I knew I had to savor every moment he still thought I was the best thing since chocolate pudding. My heart swelled and a smile spread across my face as I caught sight of his black hair flopping against his forehead.

  “Hey buddy, how was your day?”

  Beau climbed into the front seat and I immediately heard the wheezing and slight effort to breathe. He eased his backpack over the back seat and I knew he was having a bad day. No energy to bounce into the car, fling his backpack around, give me a high five and start his nonstop chatter.

  He slumped back and fastened his seatbelt without a reminder. He wasn’t having a full-blown attack, just a routine struggle with asthma. I wanted to scream out to the heavens and pound the steering wheel but if he could deal with it without complaining, I could too.

  “It was good, Mom.” He said the right words, but his tone told me otherwise.

  “Are you upset about the specialist visit? If you are, don’t worry. This is just informational.”

  Dr. Yang had recommended that we see a new doctor who used stem cells to treat certain asthma cases. I didn’t know a lot about stem cell treatments other than they were showing promise for patients with plenty of ailments, so I was cautiously hopeful.

  “No Mom, it’s not that.” Well, it was something and the way his bottom lip poked out told me it was a serious something. I waited. Beau was male, albeit a young one, which meant he wouldn’t share his feelings until he was good and ready.

  Waiting was easy once I merged into traffic and listened to NPR playing low inside the car. After fifteen minutes he pulled out a book and called my bluff. That was what happened when you had a kid too smart for basic parenting techniques. I let out a heavy sigh as I turned off the radio.

  “You have to be the only kid on the planet who isn’t happy on the last day of school.”

  He sighed and shoved his book into the side pocket of the door. “They want to put me in the fifth grade next year instead of fourth.”

  It wasn’t all that shocking since his teacher and principal had been hinting at it all year, but I didn’t like that they’d gone behind my back to talk to my kid about it. “You don’t want to do that?”

  “Noooo…how will I make friends with those older kids?” He looked up at me like I had all the answers.

  I wish I did. “Easily. You’re funny and great, how can they not want to be your friend?” His blue eyes showed me that he didn’t appreciate that answer and my heart ached in my chest. “Science camp starts in a few weeks, chat up a few of the older kids if you can. Maybe you’ll have a few friends when the new year starts.”

  “But Mom, it’s fifth grade! After that I’ll be in sixth and then comes junior high and I’m not ready!” His cheeks were bright pink, and his eyes had turned pale in his anguish.

  “If you’re not ready then you don’t have to do it, Beau. But I think you should think about it for a while before we do anything. Okay?”

  He nodded but I knew he wasn’t finished. I could feel his gaze burning through the side of my face. “Can we forget the appointment today? Nothing will ever work and now I have to think about the fifth grade,” he said as though it were on par with trying to pursue world peace. And to him, I was sure it was just as important.

  “Tell you what, you think about the fifth grade and I’ll worry about the specialist.” It was the best I could offer because I would never stop trying to help my little boy. Whether he was eight or eighty, I’d always do whatever I could to give him the best, longest life possible.

  The drive to Dr. Mankowski’s office would go quickly as soon as we moved away from the city traffic, so I relaxed behind the wheel and listened to Beau talk about all the experiments he wanted to try when camp started. Last year he’d gone to math camp, but he hadn’t enjoyed it quite as much. “I like science more than numbers,” he said, remembering his disappointment last year.

  “You don’t think math is useful?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “I guess it’s useful, but with science, you can see how it works in the real world.”

  I laughed. “And you think math doesn’t?”

  He shook his head. “No, Mom, you don’t understand.”

  “Well, I could argue the basics like paying bills and buying groceries or making a cake but let’s go a little more difficult and talk about critical thinking skills. Buildings.”

  “But buildings also use science,” he argued correctly.

  “I think that means they’re both very useful in everyday life.”

  Beau groaned. “I guess so.”

  By the time we arrived to see the specialist, Beau had forgotten all about becoming a fifth grader next year. I just hoped the doctor had some good news for us.

  ***

  Visits to doctors and specialists had always left me feeling exhausted and even though I knew I brought it on myself, I couldn’t stop it. The incessant worrying and waiting for the other shoe to drop. The clenched fists and teeth, and of course the racing heart. But today Dr. Mankowski had given me something I’d been faking for a long time.

  Hope.

  He hadn’t made any promises but his research was promising. And it gave Beau a chance to get off the nebulizer.

  “Don’t be scared, Mom,” he said on a yawn. Poor Beau was even more beat than I was after plenty of breathing tests as well as a physical exam and a quick blood test to see if there were any other health concerns he needed to know about before they started determining his eligibility for the stem cell treatment.

  I sighed and ruffled his hair. “You’re a sweet boy, Beau, but you know I will always worry about you. Always.” We were almost home and I needed peace. Maybe yoga. Maybe a magic brownie once
Beau was down for the night.

  Maybe. It was the story of my life. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  A quick look in the passenger seat showed his eyes had slid shut and his chest moved up and down evenly. No wheezing to be heard as I turned into the driveway and that fact alone had my whole body sinking back into the driver’s seat. Hearing him breathe slow and normal was a load off.

  For now.

  His attacks came at any time and they could be light and quick, no big deal. But most of the time they were more serious, exhausting for both of us and often ended up with us in the hospital emergency room. I had hoped we’d both end up in our respective beds today.

  But as I looked through the windshield my gaze landed on Cross, looking better than my black bean lasagna and I already knew he was twice as delicious. What I didn’t know, as I stepped from the car and rounded the trunk to get my sleeping son, was why he’d shown up on my doorstep.

  “Hey.” The word came out soft, quiet and maybe just a little breathless. Maybe.

  “Hey.” His smile was as bright as I’d ever seen it, even though the shadows were still there.

  “Everything all right?”

  He blew out a breath and took Beau from my arms while I searched for the keys I’d dropped back in my handbag.

  “Yes and no.”

  My chuckle came out low and amused while I pushed the door open, stepping aside so he could take Beau in first. I followed, doing my best to keep my gaze off his perfectly rounded backside which was encased in deep blue denim that showed off long, sculpted legs to perfection. He was a treat to look at and just like any treat, it was all right to indulge once in a while.

  Cross laid my little boy in his bed like Beau was as precious to him as he was to me and I knew that would be a hard image to forget, especially as Beau grew older and asked more often about his father. But I was getting ahead of myself.