by Geri Glenn
Bosco
Ryker bangs the gavel down, calling an end to our weekly church meeting, and I couldn’t be more relieved. Never before has one been so uneventful and boring. For the first time in a long time, the Kings of Korruption have not one single thing going on.
No jilted ex-lovers or drug crazed pyschos stalking our women in the night. No rival clubs or vengeful gangs looking to teach us a lesson. Even the cops aren’t hot on our tail, because for the last couple years, we’ve been working our asses off to fly straight.
As the room empties, I reach out and place a hand on Pimp’s arm. He stops mid-step and glances first down at my hand, and then up to my face. It’s no surprise most people are intimidated by this motherfucker. He intimidates me, and I’m actually starting to consider him a friend. “Mind if I have a word?”
He eyes me for a moment, assessing me, and then he nods and stands to the side until we’re the last two left.
“I was just wondering how things are going with Rachel?”
He presses his lips together. “She’s a tough nut to crack,” he admits. “She does her work, keeps her nose clean, and doesn’t put up a fight about going to meetings. In a way, she’s a model example for some of the other girls. But she’s emotionless. Dead. The only time I see any life in her at all is when she’s looking over her shoulder for that bastard that sold her when she was living on the streets.”
I blow out a slow breath through my nose. “I was afraid of that. Maybe I could talk to her, see where her head’s at?”
He arches a brow and smirks. “She was the same way with you, no?” I don’t answer because he knows damn well she was. “Just leave her be. If she asks for you I’ll call you in, but for now, let us work with her. I haven’t lost a girl yet, and I’m not about to let her be the first.”
I know he’s right, but I don’t like it. In a way, I feel like I’ve passed Rachel off to him and washed my hands of her. That had never been my intention when I’d decided to help her all those months ago. On the other hand, though, I didn’t have the time to spend with her, or have the resources Pimp does.
He rehabilitates women all the time; it’s his life’s work. My focus is on Millie and getting her well, and being there for Sarah so she doesn’t lose her mind in the process.
Pimp claps a hand down on my shoulder. “She’ll be fine. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
He waits long enough for me to nod my head in agreement, and then he’s stalking out of the room, heading for the bar. I follow him, making a stop in the kitchen to pour myself a coffee.
One nice thing about finally airing out my past for the club is that I don’t have to pretend anymore. Before I’d told them, I would walk around all night with the same beer bottle in my hand, occasionally dumping some of the liquid down the drain and being sure to refill it with water from time to time.
I approach the pool table where Jase and Ryker are just setting up a game. Ryker racks them up and Jase leans across the table, his cue positioned to break. That’s when I notice. “Is that pink nail polish on your fingers, Jase?”
My question catches him off guard, causing him to miss his shot, the white ball striking just one of the balls in the set. He stands and narrows his eyes at me. “Fuck off.”
I take a step closer and crouch down, inspecting his hands. “Jesus Christ, it is!” Much to my delight, all ten of his fingers are topped with a pearly pink polish. “Seems Millie got to you too. At least I stopped at just the thumbs, asshole.”
Jase levels me with a withering glare as the room around us hums with laughter. I grin back at him. Serves you right, jackass.
Sarah
“Have you ever looked for your parents?”
Bosco seems surprised by my question, but he contemplates his answer, his head tipping to the side as he thinks. Finally, he shakes his head. “I thought about it at first, when I got out of juvie. A couple of nights on the streets cured me of that, though.” His eyes harden at the memory. “I hated them for a while, for abandoning me when my brother died like I didn’t even exist. And then for disowning me completely when I was locked up.”
Wrapped up in the blankets, my head on the pillow beside him, I trace my fingers along his chest. He’s been through more than anyone I know, and I’m amazed that his words are so matter of fact, void of the bitterness I know I would feel in his place.
“One of the steps in getting clean is forgiveness,” he continues. “That one was fucking hard for me. I had to forgive myself first, for fucking up my life the way I did. I had to forgive Spencer for dying and leaving me on my own. The hardest ones to forgive, though, were my parents, but I did. It took me a long fucking time, but I came to realize that parents aren’t immune to having problems, that they fuck up sometimes. Mine fucked up big time. I forgive them for that, but I don’t need that kind of shit messing with the life I’ve built for myself.” He turns his head, his soft eyes gazing into mine. “So the answer to your question is no. I’ve never looked for my parents, and I don’t ever want to.”
Silence fills the space between us, and I think about my own parents. They’d loved me in their own way, but their expectations of me had been unachievable. “Maybe that’s what I need to do.”
Bosco frowns, not understanding. “What’s that?”
“Forgive them—my parents. I’m still so angry at them for kicking me out the way they did.” A tear slides down my cheek and I turn slightly, dabbing it on the pillow, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Even when Mouse died, I tried to see them, but by then, I was noticeably pregnant and they hadn’t wanted to hear a word I had to say.”
“Your parents are dicks, babe. You don’t need that shit in your life.”
I nod. “I know. But if I forgive them, maybe I can get past being angry with them.”
He considers this. “Sounds about right.”
“So how do I do that exactly? Forgive them, I mean?”
Bosco turns to look at the ceiling and exhales a heavy breath through his nose. “I guess you just accept your parents are human and that they don’t know everything. They’re just as flawed as everyone else on the planet. You give yourself permission to not be what they expect of you, and then you let it go.”
That right there is the part I don’t understand. “How?”
Bosco flips over onto his side and faces me. “If Millie decided she wanted a glass of milk and went to get it herself, she’d likely spill that shit all over the floor. Would you be angry?”
I blink. “No. I’d be annoyed, yes, but not angry.”
“Why?”
I wrinkle my nose. “’Cause she doesn’t know any better.”
“Exactly.” He says it like he’s just explained the answer to world peace, but I’m still not following.
“Huh?”
“You wouldn’t be angry because Millie’s just doing what she knows how to do. It’s the same with your parents, they’re doing what they know, what they think is right. In a way, they don’t know any better. They’re going based on beliefs they were taught and believe in. Does that make them right? No. But you don’t have to base your personal truth on their uninformed beliefs.”
I raise a single brow at him. “Ya lost me.”
Bosco’s chuckle shakes the whole bed. “Just accept they’re human and you don’t need that particular brand of human in your life or Millie’s. Problem solved.”
I smile. “That I can do.”
Bosco grins and pushes himself forward, his face nuzzling into my neck. His whiskers scrape against my skin as his hand searches out my breast.
“Again?” I ask, my body still pleasantly numb from making love just before our little chat.
“You tired, baby?”
I nod my head and pout. “I don’t know if I can move.”
His face pops up, his smile turning wicked. “I bet I can make you move plenty.”
Squealing with laughter, I squirm as he yanks the blanket over his head and trails his lips down my torso. His s
killed tongue hits my clit, and all teasing flies out the window as my laughter turns to moans and my hips sway as I ride my man’s face until he sends me soaring over the edge of oblivion.
Bosco
“I love it,” Sarah says, her gaze traveling along the peaked ceiling in the kitchen. “But can we really afford it?”
The house sits in a quiet subdivision on the outskirts of the city. The fenced in yard is spacious and already equipped with an in-ground pool. It has four bedrooms, two baths, and an eat-in kitchen. It’s perfect.
I place my hands on her shoulders and grin as I hear Millie running from room to room upstairs, her excitement at the size of the house painfully obvious. “The club is doing well. We’re raking in cash from all the businesses. I just accepted that job with Jase at the garage as his apprentice. You’ve been doing well working for Pimp, and in just a couple of years, you’ll be finished with your graphic design program and can start doing some freelance work.” Her eyes remain unsure as she glances around the kitchen once more. “This place is perfect for us, baby. Can’t you see us living here?”
A slow smile creeps across her face, and the moment her shoulders drop in defeat, I know I have her. “Yes. It’s amazing.”
Sarah and I have been talking about moving in together for a couple of months now, but the idea of moving into a home meant for herself and Mouse made me uncomfortable. I’m not jealous of that history with him in any way, but living in his shadow isn’t the way I want to live my life.
We need a fresh start. A bigger home that one day we can hopefully fill with happy little brown-haired children like their big sister. A place we choose together with the intentions of taking our relationship to the next level.
As Sarah goes upstairs to look around some more, I step outside to talk to the realtor, letting her know we’re ready to put in an offer. Getting out of Sarah’s rent-to-own arrangement will take some finessing, but I’m confident her landlord will see the right side of his decision to let her out of the contract. I’m also confident Mrs. Munns won’t have any issues finding a replacement for my room. Maybe this time, she’ll get someone that’s around more and can keep her company.
The realtor locks up the house and promises to forward me the documents to sign before the end of the day. As we pull away from the curb, I watch the house get smaller in the rearview mirror. My gaze falls on Millie, who’s hair is just starting to grow back after yet another heavy-duty round of chemo.
Her cheeks are round and puffy from the medication, but the flush of happiness on them is unmistakable. She loves the house as much as her mother and I do. When her eyes meet mine through the mirror, her face splits into a grin.
I have so much love for this little girl. I couldn’t love her any more if she were my own. I glance over at Sarah, who’s nose is pressed against the window, ogling the giant houses as we pass. This will be good for her too.
Sarah’s never had anyone to share the load of adulthood with. She’s been mother and father and breadwinner for her tiny family all on her own. When Millie got sick, she carried that burden herself as well.
It’s taken some time for her to get used to sharing that stuff with me. There are times I still have to remind her she doesn’t have to do it all herself anymore, that I’m here to help her through.
Yes, this house is going to be a fresh start for all of us. A place for Millie to heal and grow. A place for Sarah to decorate how she wants it, entertain her friends and be at peace. And lastly, a place for me to finally have the family I’ve craved for so long.
Sarah
The back yard is full of leather clad bikers, women in tight shorts, and screaming kids playing happily in the pool. At the front of the house is row after row of neatly parked motorcycles. Our neighbors must hate us.
Brightly colored streamers and oversized balloons decorate the fence line surrounding us, a giant sign with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ hanging on the side of the house. Today marks four years since Millie was born.
Her cancer is now in remission, though she’s still undergoing the maintenance phase of her treatment. She’s given us a few scares over the last year and a half, and I’m sure there are a few more in our future, but for now, she’s doing well and she’s kicking that cancer’s ass.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I whip around to see Laynie, her dog Dexter at her side, with a warm smile on her face.
My hand flies up to my chest and I laugh. “You scared the crap out of me. How’d you even know I was in here?”
She grins and points behind me out the kitchen window. “Tease told me you were watching out the window. Said you look like you might need to talk.”
I huff out a laugh and shake my head. “You know, for a blind woman, you’re surprisingly stealthy.”
“You can blame Dexter for that,” she says, reaching down to pat the smiling dog’s head. “Now tell me, what are you doing staring out the window while your daughter is having a raging party in the backyard?”
I laugh a little at the mental image that gives me and turn to watch out the window again. “I’m just thinking how much everything has changed in the last couple years. How much I’ve changed. I was so angry at all of you when Mouse died. I certainly didn’t want anything to do with the club.”
“Except for Bosco,” she says, a teasing smile in her voice.
“Yeah. He was a different story. He wouldn’t leave. No matter how miserable I was to that man, he was relentless.” I pause, watching Bosco as he turns a batch of hot dogs on the barbeque, laughing at something Jase says.
“Then Millie got sick and I wasn’t just angry at the club, I was angry at the world. I was confused about my feelings for Bosco, and how I could be so angry with the Kings but still need them to function. It was terrible.”
“And now?” Laynie asks from behind me.
I look around the yard at the people that had come to help my daughter celebrate four years on this earth. “Now I realize that this club is one of the best things that ever happened to me and Millie. You’re not friends, everyone here is our family. We might not be related by blood, but you’re all more of a family than my blood relatives.” I grimace. “Sounds cheesy, I know.”
Laynie laughs. “No, I get what you mean. I was alone too, ya know. I had my brother and my parents, but they all treated me as if I was a child. They didn’t see me as a grown woman because I was blind. Being around the club was the first time I ever felt normal.”
I watch through the window as Millie squeals and splashes Ryker and little Maddox. “Do you think Mouse would be okay with the way things turned out?”
Laynie’s body presses against me from behind, her arms wrapping around my waist, her chin resting on my shoulder as her sightless eyes gaze out the window to the people we love. “I think Mouse would have done anything to ensure you and Millie were happy. He would have wanted you to move on, to love with a passion, and to show Millie the way to do the same. Wherever he is, I think Mouse is very okay with the way things turned out.”
Bosco
“Marry me.”
I blink from my place on the edge of the bed at the crazy woman standing in front of me. “What?”
Her face splits into a grin so full of happiness, it takes my breath away. “Marry me.”
I finish pulling off my sock and stand, walking the three feet that separates us and take her face in my hands. “Baby, pretty sure I’m supposed to be the one that does the askin’.”
“You were taking too long.”
I cough out a laugh and pull her body to mine, wrapping my arms around her. “Don’t you want me to do the whole down on one knee thing?”
I feel the shake of her head against my chest, and then she pulls away. “I just want you to marry me. I want you to adopt Millie, and I want to be Mrs. Scott Boscarelli.”
As amazing as that name sounds on her lips, I’m still focusing on the other part. “You want me to adopt Millie? Legally?”
She gazes into
my eyes and nods. “You love her, she loves you. She never got to meet her father, but you’ve been there for her since the day he couldn’t be any more.”
The idea of being legally bound to the two people I love more than anything else in this world sends my heart into outer space. “Mrs. Boscarelli,” I say, trying the name out on my lips. I grin down at her. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too,” she whispers, her eyes serious.
I stare down at her, feeling so light, I fear I might float away, and whisper back, “You bet your ass I’ll marry you.”
She grins and pops up onto the tips of her toes and presses her lips against mine. Scott and Sarah Boscarelli. Millie Boscarelli. The idea of my girls taking my name is more than I ever could have hoped for.
Leaning down, I tip Sarah’s head back and deepen our kiss. My hands come to her shoulders and slip the edges of her robe from her shoulders, her breasts falling free. Pulling away, I stare down at her, dragging my knuckles across her pebbled nipple.
“Take it off,” I order.
With a sly smile, Sarah steps back and undoes the tie at her waist. Pointing her arms at the ground, she lets the material fall to the floor and stands before me, completely bare, her hooded gaze on me, waiting for her next command.
“Hands and knees on the bed.”
My cock lengthens in my jeans as she does what she’s told, her head turning to watch me over her shoulder. “Spread your knees.” I’m really not sure how I’m keeping my voice so calm when my heart is doing jumping jacks inside my chest. She spreads her knees, and in this position, her ass toward me, I can see it all.
I can see the curve of her ass and the velvety pink flesh of her center, slick with desire.
