by Jc Emery
“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, putting me at ease.
“I’ve just been thinking about this for so long.” I drop my shoulders and peel my bra away. It falls to the floor without a sound.
“You think about this?” he asks with a husky voice. He keeps his attention on my face, surprisingly, and doesn’t let it veer toward my chest. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I expected him to practically maul me. But he isn’t, and the fact that he’s being so slow and gentle makes me more confident in what I’m doing. I just have to get past the wobbly feeling in my knees, and then maybe I’ll be able to fully enjoy it.
We slowly and awkwardly peel away the remainder of one another’s clothing. My panties and then his boxers join the rest of our clothes on the floor. I’ve fantasized about having this with him. I’ve even tried to plan it. None of those fantasies or plans worked out so well. We kept getting busted and thwarted at every turn.
Feeling brave, I reach down between us to feel him, but he guides my hand back up at the elbow.
“I love you,” he blurts out. His navy-blue eyes slide over mine, his brows draw together, and his expression darkens. His arms lock in place, and it’s like he’s turned to stone.
Then I realize that he’s told me he loves me. And I’m standing here like an idiot. I breathe in deeply, smile widely, and laugh happily like a moron.
“I’m naked,” I whisper with wet eyes.
“I mean it,” he says. “I love you.”
I nod my head before realizing that I should probably say something back. I barely get the words out as I say, “I’m so totally in love with you.”
He smiles in a way I’ve never seen. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and his cheeks are so high up on his face it almost looks painful. The nervous energy fades into the background as we move toward the bed, still holding one another, and still smiling. Kissing is great, but this is better. As he lays me on his bed, I try not to think about how he learned his moves. The way he runs his hands up and down my thighs to the light touch over my dark brown curls sends blissful waves through my entire body. His lips press light, purposeful kisses to every peak and valley of my pale flesh, and when he finally crawls up my naked frame, I wrap my hand around his silk-soft member as he shows me how to roll on a condom. Everything about this is as perfect as perfect can be. Bringing him inside of me stings for a moment before it dulls to a raw ache. Still, I won’t let him stop. No pain could make this so uncomfortable that I wouldn’t want this with him.
Through all the new sensations and the buzz of my building orgasm, I make myself a promise that I won’t ever leave him and I won’t ever hurt him.
IT’S NEARLY THREE in the morning when I realize that I really need to get home. Dad won’t stand for my being out all night, especially if he finds where I’ve gone. Not that he would have any doubts. Duke and Nic—but more importantly, Robin—are all asleep, so once we’re dressed, Jeremy leads me out the front door. It feels slightly more respectable than sneaking in his bedroom window.
When I pull up to the house, I breathe a sigh of relief that all the lights are off. Thankfully it seems like Dad and Holly are tucked safely in their bed. I cut the engine and slowly climb out of the car. My thighs are sore and I feel little bit grimy, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Being with Jeremy like that was better than I even could have imagined.
I want to do it again. Only, I hope it doesn’t hurt so much next time. And maybe next time I’ll actually orgasm and it won’t fade away at the last moment.
The front door unlocks with ease, and I cancel the alarm before it makes a sound. If Dad really wants to keep me in the house all night, he should probably change the code. I’m way too good at this for his own good.
I make it past the kitchen and into the living room, at the foot of the stairs, before it happens. The light switch clicks, and the room is suddenly basked in artificial light from one of the end-table lamps. I’ve been caught sneaking out and sneaking back in before, so that’s not such a big deal. It’s the fact that my hair is a complete disaster, I’m pretty sure I have a few hickeys on my neck, and I smell like Jeremy that worries me.
“You better have a good fucking explanation for this,” Dad says.
I still haven’t turned around to meet his eyes, both out of fear and embarrassment. My heart beats loudly in my chest, and my hands shake at my sides. This is going to be bad.
With a stiff upper lip, I turn around and face my fears. Dad is wearing a pair of his old black sweatpants that Grandma’s asked him to throw away more times than I can count. As always, he hasn’t worn a shirt to bed, and his wavy hair is pointing in a hundred different directions.
“I’m an adult,” I say. Something moves in the corner of the room, and it’s only then that I notice Holly in the chair by the fireplace. She’s wearing one of Dad’s big T-shirts and, from the looks of it, nothing else. Of course it’s okay for him to have sex with his girlfriend, but it’s not okay for me to have sex with my boyfriend. At least we’ve had enough respect for household furnishings not to do it on the fucking kitchen table. He is such a hypocrite.
“You are way too wrapped up in that boy,” he says. He folds his arms over his chest and shakes his head. I can tell that he’s trying his best to hold back his temper, but it looks like it’s barely working. That’s okay because my temper is shot, so this is about to get real good.
“What’s your problem with me and Jeremy? Is it because I want to spend every minute with him? Is it because I don’t want to be away from him? What is it, Dad?”
“Yeah,” he says. His tone is more biting than it was a moment ago, but that’s probably in reaction to mine.
“Then what the hell are you doing with Holly? You’re always together, you hate to be away from her. You live together. If I need to take a step back, so do you.”
I think I’m going to throw up. My stomach is uneasy, and my back is stiff. I don’t talk to Dad like this very often, and when I do, we always end up in an enormous fight that leaves us not speaking for weeks at a time.
“What did you just say to me?” he barks and strides across the room so fast that I almost don’t expect it when he’s in my face and breathing rank breath down on my cheeks. My stomach flips, and my body feels like it’s weighted down with hundreds of pounds of concrete. I just want to sink to the floor and play dead.
“I love him,” I whisper. Because I do, and Dad needs to know it.
“What about school?” he asks.
“I got my GED. I can work in town.” I know how it sounds to his ears, even if I don’t want to admit it. It sounds like I’m giving up my dream of culinary school to stay in town with a boy. But it’s more than that. So much more.
“Fuck that,” he says. His eyes travel down to my neck where, sure enough, he spots the bruises that are forming. “He use anything tonight besides you?”
“We were careful, and he didn’t use me,” I yell, leaning in to him. I know men Dad’s size and bigger who won’t say a cross word to him. I wouldn’t piss him off if I wore a patch either. But I don’t, and I’m not afraid of him. “He loves me.”
“The hell he does,” Dad seethes. “You gonna feel real grown up when your dad shows up and rips his dick off? You gonna feel like an adult then, huh, Chey?
“Is this the first time?” he asks. I’m tempted not to tell him. It’s none of his business, but this is bad enough. Refusing to answer is only going to earn us a longer fight and a trip to Nic and Duke’s, which will wake up the baby. And that, I’ve learned, is worse than scratching Duke’s bike. Sleep is precious these days in that house.
“Yes,” I say. Tears well in my eyes. This isn’t how the night of my first time was supposed to go. I was supposed to crawl into bed and reminisce about it, not stand here and fight with my dad over something this private.
Asshole. He is such an asshole.
“Is this shit the reason you haven’t applied to that school you been talking about?”
&
nbsp; “I changed my mind. I just don’t want to go anymore.”
I can’t tell him that I’ve not gotten far enough on Mindy’s case to leave. I can’t tell him that I want to be here when he and Holly have a baby—because she’s so going to snow him into that one. I can’t tell him any of this, so we go back and forth and back again. He asks a question, and I respond with increasingly unkind words. I don’t want to talk about this with him, but even if I run upstairs, he’ll just follow me. Because he won’t listen, and I can’t find the words he needs to understand.
“You’re throwing your future away for a boy who isn’t going to give a shit in six months. You want me to stop getting in your business, then you need to start making better choices.”
“You’re wrong,” I say through falling tears. “He loves me.”
“I’ll bet he thinks he does,” he says. “But you’re going to school. Holly has worked too hard to keep you on track with your education for you to throw it away because you want some asshole’s attention. As it is, you had to get your GED because you couldn’t get your ass to class.”
“It’s not like that,” I wail. I don’t even bother to wipe the tears away. Every word he says is meaner than the last. They slam into my gut and practically pierce my heart one after the other. He needs to stop before his words split me in two. Maybe if he knew the reason I missed so many classes he would understand. Maybe then he wouldn’t look so disgusted with me. No, then I’d have to deal with the entire club’s disapproval.
“I was eighteen once,” he says. “It’s always like that. He wanted your pussy, and now that he’s got it, he’s going to leave you behind. He’s Forsaken now, Chey. He won’t be faithful.” Dad’s words have fallen to a whisper. His shoulders have dropped, and the intensity of the moment has passed. He just looks pained.
Good. Misery loves company.
“I’m not going to leave him no matter what you say,” I mutter through a series of hiccups. “You don’t get it. It’s painful thinking about going away, and I won’t do it to him or to me. I love him, sometimes so much it hurts. It feels like it’s crushing me from the inside out.”
“You are going to regret this,” Dad says. “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
I sniffle and wipe my nose. Dad reaches out to hug me, but the last thing I want is his comfort. I just want Jeremy.
Dad backs up and blows out a heavy breath. I shake my head at him as I pass and head for the front door. On my way out, I hear him calling for Holly, who screams something at him before her voice trails off, probably downstairs to their bedroom. I hope she’s angry at him for how shitty he just was to me. But even if she is, I’m not all that happy with her for sitting in the corner and not saying or doing a fucking thing. So much for having my back.
I’m back in my car and speeding to Jeremy once again. This time when I pull up, I park in the driveway and don’t bother cutting the lights until I turn the car off. The porch light flicks on, so somebody is obviously still awake. As if he sensed me coming, Jeremy opens the front door wearing only his boxers. I run out of the car and let the tears fall openly as I crash into him. He wraps his strong arms around me, holding me to his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. Concern fills his voice.
“My dad, he... he wants me to go to culinary school. I don’t want to leave you. Not ever.” I sound like a whiny baby who isn’t getting her way, but I don’t care. This is Jeremy. He isn’t going to think I’m stupid.
“Don’t go,” he says lowly. It sounds so easy. To just not go and defy my dad. But then what happens to me? Where do I live? What if Dad actually makes me go? What if Jeremy gets in trouble for all of this—because of me? What if he realizes he’s not the only reason I want to stay? That aside from Mindy, my jerky father and Holly, and Grandma, I’m terrified to be so far away from the club. Up until recently, I’d always felt safe here. But regardless of what’s going on, I have to be safer here than anywhere else. San Francisco is huge, and nobody will know they’re not to mess with me. Nobody will know me, and nobody will care when they hear my last name.
“Stop worrying, baby.” He kisses my forehead and then my eyebrow and my cheek. He tilts my head back and places a final kiss on my lips.
“But what if he tries to make me go?” I need some reassurance and maybe even some muscle here. I can fight Dad to the end of the earth, but at the end of the day, he has the cash to keep me in the finer things in life—like food and electricity.
Jeremy becomes still, and his grip on my chin tightens. I’m about to say something to him, but then he opens his mouth. He’s working through something in his head, but then he speaks. And he blows me away.
“We’ll get married. Tonight. Just run away with me and fucking marry me.”
“You mean it?” I ask. “You want to marry me?”
“More than anything,” he whispers and rubs his nose against mine.
Voices sound from the other side of the open front door—one masculine and one feminine. We’ve woken up Duke and Nic, but I don’t give a damn. As long as we don’t wake up Robin, I don’t think they can be too mad. Still, the look on Nic’s face is murderous. The extra baby weight she hasn’t lost yet shows through her nightgown, emphasized by the way she folds her arms over her chest and purses her lips. Duke looks too exhausted to even swat at a fly, and I say a silent prayer for that. I’ve heard him yelling at Jeremy before, and there’s no doubt that Robin gets her set of lungs from her dad, even if Duke begs to differ.
“Knuck know you’re here?” Duke asks through a yawn.
“Yeah,” I say because he’d be stupid to think I’d go anywhere else. Duke will check with Dad, I know he will, so at least the cranky asshole won’t think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere.
“Then come in, shut the fuck up, and don’t wake up my kid,” he says slowly, losing his train of thought halfway through only to recapture it a moment later.
“I have ways to make you both wish you were fucking dead if my baby wakes up before she’s supposed to,” Nic says and drags Duke down the hallway to their bedroom.
Gulping, I look at Jeremy nervously and whisper, “How does she know when Robin is supposed to wake up?” As far as I know, babies are unpredictable little creatures.
“She doesn’t,” he whispers and takes my hand as he leads me toward his bedroom. “So I hope you like baby duty, because they’re going to find a way to get out of changing the next dirty diaper.”
“I gave you my virginity, Jeremy Whelan. The least you can do is spare me a poopy diaper,” I whisper-shout as I carefully close his bedroom door behind me.
I want Jeremy as my old man, and I want to be his old lady. I want what Duke and Nic have and what Ryan has with Alex—that deep kind of love you fight and sacrifice for. I want what Dad and Holly have and what Uncle Jim and Aunt Ruby have—the kind of love that doesn’t have to make sense and can last forever—and I’ll crawl over their destroyed Harleys to do it.
CHAPTER 21
April
12 months to Mancuso’s downfall
I flash my girl a million-dollar grin and wiggle my brows, saying, “Mrs. Whelan.”
Her smile is blinding, so fucking wide it’s practically ear to ear, and she giggles a high-pitched giggle that morphs into a squeal. It’s not quite four in the morning, and if she’s up for it, I could totally go a round before we crash. She recognizes the change in my demeanor—from playful to pervy—and her expression darkens.
“We should probably, you know, practice for our wedding night,” she says through a quiet laugh that tapers off.
I lunge for her, causing another round of squeals. I’m careful with my landing so I don’t crush her with my weight. She wiggles to the center of the bed as I swiftly brace my landing with my elbows on either side of her head and my knees propping up my lower half. She parts her legs for me, letting me slide between them. She’s completely dressed, and that just won’t do.
Just as I’m unbuttoning
the top of her jeans, Robin starts wailing from Nic and Duke’s room. Her cry is so damn loud you’d think somebody was stabbing her or something. I actually used to worry that she was hurt when I’d hear her cry, because fuck if I knew what a baby’s cries are supposed to sound like. But now, after even a week, I can figure most of her noises out. She’s just hungry, or maybe she wants to be held right now. I don’t really know, but it’s getting easier to figure out that she’s not sick or something—she just makes it sound like she is.
“Crap,” Chey whispers. “We should probably just try to get some sleep. If Robin’s awake, so are Nic and Duke.”
“They’re not going—”
My bedroom door swings open. My heart spasms in surprise. In the open doorway is Duke, who is wearing only a pair of worn flannel boxers and holding a whimpering infant in his arms. His eyes are narrowed and rimmed by purple bags that appeared right around the time the little ball of chub did and haven’t gone away since. Dude looks like shit, and Nic doesn’t look much better these days.
“Woke up the baby,” he says. His expression is anything but pleased, and his voice is flat. “I should shoot you both.”
“I, uh, I’m sorry,” Cheyenne says quietly. Her eyes travel from his tired face to Robin’s small body.
Duke catches the change of focus and turns his attention back to me. A small smile forms on his lips before it’s gone and he looks at Cheyenne. His feet carry him toward us. Every foot he gets closer, I move farther away from Chey, until I’m sitting up at the other end of the bed. She scurries to sit up and pull her shirt down to cover the open top button of her jeans.
When he’s close enough, he leans forward and extends Robin out to Chey. It takes her a moment to catch on, but once she does, she carefully scoops Robin into her arms and holds her safely tucked to her chest. Duke mumbles, “You wake her, you hold her,” as he turns and leaves the room.
Cheyenne’s face is turned down toward my infant niece. She’s a cute baby as far as babies go. I mean, she doesn’t really look like a conehead anymore, and when I talk to her, she listens. Not sure her mom and dad would like the words I’m teaching her, but that’s part of what being an uncle is about—teaching the kid shit her parents won’t. Chey shushes and coos at Robin until her discontented cries become restless squawks. She turns into Chey’s chest, opening and closing her mouth in frustration.
