by Ali Parker
Sabian seemed to know that’s what I had been after, reassurance that leaving things with Holly alone for now was the right move to make. He plucked his aviators free from his collar and slid them back on his nose. “Go on the date. Talk to her. Then make your decision. No harm can come from one little date.”
“Right.” Clearly, Sabian didn’t know Holly or the power she held over me.
Sabian turned to the door and looked back over his shoulder at me once he had pushed through. “And it goes without saying. Think without your cock for once, all right?”
“Get out.”
I could hear Sabian chuckling as he made his way through the shop until the door closed. Then I was left alone to bask in the aftermath of the conversation.
Sabian and Ellie were right. There was no sense in ending this thing with Holly, whatever it was, until I had more information. I needed to see what it was that she wanted to talk to me about. Maybe she and I were both on the same page, and this whole thing would be easy to figure out together.
Together. I liked the ring of that.
“You’re being a fucking girl,” I hissed to myself as I got to my feet and stretched my spine.
There was something nostalgic about the tightness in my chest. It was exactly as it had been when we were kids, when I’d thought I would be able to hold on to Holly Whitton, make her mine, and save her from a future where she was tethered to Kent. There hadn’t been a doubt in my mind that when it really came down to it, she would choose me.
I was the better option, no matter which way I or anyone else looked at it.
Yet, somehow, she had ended up with him of her own choosing, packed up, and left before I even had time to process that I was losing her.
If Holly wanted me after all this time, I would be hers.
And if the Black Hearts stood in the way of that, I would just have to meet them head-on, machete or not, and fight for what was mine.
I’d done it before. I could do it again.
Chapter 12
Holly
Luke was sitting in the middle of the rug in the living room constructing a colorful Lego masterpiece. I had been staring at it for at least five minutes to try to figure out what the somewhat crooked, multilevel piece was but had come to no conclusions.
He was humming a familiar country tune, or at least, he was humming the part he knew, which was the upbeat chorus. I got up from where I sat at the dining table reading the paper and joined him on the carpet. I crossed my legs and leaned forward to peer at his creation.
“What are you making here? It looks big enough for a lot of Lego men to live inside.”
“It’s a firehouse.” Luke’s tone suggested I should already know just by looking at it.
“Well, of course it is,” I smiled. “How many firemen work there?”
He cocked his head to the side as he regarded his “firehouse.” “Seventy-two, but a lot of them never show up to work. They just like being called firemen.”
“Wow. Seventy-three, huh? They must be really good at fighting fires.”
Luke nodded vigorously and looked up at me. His eyes were bright green like mine, and I would forever be thankful I couldn’t see Kent in him when my son looked at me. “They can stop any fire, mama. No matter what.”
“Very cool,” I stretched out to lie on my side and laid my head on my elbow. “Do you have enough extra pieces for me to make something?”
“Sure.” Luke pushed the Rubbermaid container full of loose Lego pieces toward me. “What are you going to make?”
“Well, I was thinking I could build a house that the firemen could save when it catches on fire.”
“Okay.” Luke grinned before bowing his head and setting back to work on his so-called fire station. “Make sure it’s a big house.”
“Big. Got it.” I began assembling the lower level of what would soon turn into a very mediocre Lego house. As I worked, I continuously looked up at Luke to make sure he was still having fun.
Ever since moving back to New York City, I had been plagued with guilt over taking Luke away from his father. Even though Kent had never been good to me, and in my mind was never a good father, Luke loved him unconditionally. And the poor kid had nothing to do with the mistakes his parents made. Yet here he was, hundreds of miles from his father, probably missing him dearly.
I snapped a yellow block on to a corner and sighed. “Luke, can Mommy ask you something?”
“Yep.” He never looked up at me as he continued working. There was something to be appreciated in that. Kids were simple. Easy. Straightforward.
“No matter what you answer, Mommy will be happy, okay? I promise.”
Now he looked up at me, his curiosity piqued. This was not how our usual conversations began. “Okay.”
“Do you miss your dad, Luke?”
My stomach clenched as I awaited his answer. I had promised I would be happy no matter what his answer was, but I wasn’t so sure I could keep a straight face if he admitted to missing Kent terribly. I forced myself to look calmly at my son as he put down his Lego pieces and shuffled around so he was facing me directly.
“Sometimes,” he said.
“Yeah? How about right now? Do you miss your daddy right now?”
Luke shrugged. “No.”
“When are the times you do miss him?”
Luke chewed the inside of his cheek, a terrible habit Kent had repeatedly told me I had taught him. There was no denying it. I chewed the insides of my lips and cheeks until the skin was raw and my mouth tasted like copper. It was an anxiety thing or a way of coping with the anxiety.
“I miss going to the park.” Luke nodded to himself. “Yeah. I miss the park and the yellow slide. And the tire swings. Daddy always spun the swing real good.”
“Your dad definitely was a good spinner.” I thought back to the days where Kent and I would walk down the street to the park in our old community. It wasn’t an impressive playground by any means, but it was close by and Luke enjoyed the visits we made there.
Although, of course, Kent only came once in a blue moon. For the most part, Luke and I went alone, and the two of us would play on the seesaw or the regular swings. I was never able to spin the tire swing as well as him, and Luke, wiser than his mere six years, never asked me to.
Feeling a surge of emotion building inside me, I hurried to complete my Lego house to offer both me and my son a distraction. I snapped on the last piece and pushed it toward Luke.
“Ta-da! All done! What do you think? Is it worthy of your seventy-three firemen?”
Luke’s eyes widened, and he clapped his hands together. “Awesome! I’m going to make more. I’m going to make a whole town!”
The front door opened, and Kim hollered a loud hello as she kicked off her shoes. Luke and I called back, and soon, she was emerging in the living room with bags of new trial medications. She dropped them on the sofa with a huff and planted her hands on her hips as she surveyed the mess we had made of her carpet.
“So, are we playing with Legos tonight, kiddo?” Kim asked.
Luke pointed at the house I had just finished. “Yeah! Mommy already made a house, and I have a fire station. I want to build a whole town!”
“A whole town?” Kim exclaimed, joining us on the carpet. She shot me a mischievous look. “So, what can I make? We’ll need more houses, that’s for sure. And maybe a church, and a bar, and a grocery store.”
My phone vibrated on the coffee table. My stomach did a backflip. I reached for the phone and peered down at the text message. “He’s here,” I whispered more to myself than Luke and Kim.
Kim chuckled as she began rummaging through the container of Legos. “Better not keep him waiting. Poor guy has been waiting long enough. Tell him I say hello.”
I got to my feet and flattened out my skirt. “How do I look?”
“You look pretty, Mama.” Luke beamed.
I smiled and bent down to kiss the top of his head. “You’re so sweet. I love you, baby. I’ll be home la
te, but I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Be good for Auntie Kim.”
“He’s always good,” Kim said.
“Yep,” Luke agreed.
Kim looked me up and down. “You look great, sis. Knock him dead. And then talk to him.”
I crossed my fingers over my heart in an X and nodded. “Promise.”
Then I grabbed my purse and made for the door.
Jax was parked at the curb in his black pickup truck. The paint was shiny and spotless, and I assumed it had been recently waxed. When Jax spotted me coming, he hopped out of the truck and made his way to my door, which he opened and held for me as I approached.
He executed a short wolf whistle and made it obvious he was checking me out; his eyes swept up the length of me, from the toes of my gold sandals to the pink lace neckline of my shirt.
I paused and gave him a little twirl, sending the ends of my white skirt fanning out around me, and in so doing, I probably gave him a good view of my bare legs.
“You look ravishing,” Jax said, taking my hand and helping me up into the passenger seat of his truck.
As I passed him, I caught the scent of his cologne and inhaled deeply. It lingered in the air around me after he closed the door, and I basked in it as I watched him walk around the hood.
He was dressed in a black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and black boots. A silver watch caught the sun at his wrist, drawing my eyes to his bare forearms and the veins that rippled under his tanned skin. I wanted to trace them with my fingertips and follow them all over his body like a maze I never wanted to escape from.
But first, we needed to talk.
He slid up into the seat beside me and shot me a cocky grin as he started the engine. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” I gave him my best smile to try to set him and myself at ease. Everything was going to be fine. This was Jax, not Kent. I had to keep reminding myself that he wouldn’t react with rage the way Kent always did when he heard something he didn’t like. “I’ve been excited to see you.”
“Likewise,” Jax said, glancing in his mirror before pulling away from the curb and striking a course out to the restaurant.
His hand wandered over to me, and he rested it on my bare knee. The warmth of his calloused palm had my mind daring him to move his hand upward, under the skirt, up the inside of my thighs, and closer to the heat between my legs that was practically screaming for his touch.
But my knee would do.
“So where are we going?” I asked in an effort to distract myself from his scent and his closeness.
“Well, I had a couple of ideas, but it depends what you’re in the mood for. I remember how much you liked that Greek place. What’s it called? The little one with the plants on the ceiling?”
“Socrates Taverna.”
“That’s the one. I was thinking we could go there and gorge ourselves on spanakopita and dolmades. Or there’s a new Italian place close by that is supposed to have unreal lasagna. You pick.”
How Jax had remembered how much I loved spanakopita was beyond me, and as soon as the word left his mouth, my stomach grumbled. “Greek. Definitely Greek.”
“I hoped you’d say that.”
We took a left, and I watched the traffic pass us by as we drew closer.
At the restaurant, the hostess brought us to a table for two outside on the patio. Music was playing softly, and a candle burned between us as the sun set. The street was busy but not busy enough to be too loud to hear one another. I swept my napkin off the table and folded it on my lap as the waitress brought me a glass of red wine and a whiskey for Jax.
“Cheers,” he said, lifting his glass.
“Cheers.” I smiled.
We both took the first sip of our drinks, and then the anticipated awkwardness set in. We both fell quiet and took more interest in our menus than each other, regardless of the fact that we both knew what we wanted to order.
I looked up at him over the top of my menu.
His eyes were cast down, but not moving side to side. He wasn’t reading. He was simply waiting me out.
I didn’t want to make him push me to talk. I needed to come out with this on my own. It was me who had taken the first step to make this conversation happen, anyway. There was no point in dillydallying around it. I just needed to throw it out there and see what came of it.
I closed my menu, grabbed my wine, and drank it in four big mouthfuls.
I caught Jax staring at me with an arched eyebrow. “Do we have a quota we need to meet or something?”
I shook my head and crossed my arms to rest my elbows on the table. “No. I just want to tell you everything now so we can enjoy the rest of the night. Is that okay?”
Jax closed his menu and set it down on top of mine. “More than okay.”
I had no clue where to start. Luke? Kent? I found myself chewing my cheek and forced myself to stop. I took a deep breath and looked into Jax’s deep green eyes.
“Okay. Let’s start with the most important thing.” Spit it out, girl, spit it out.
Jax nodded, encouraging me to keep going. His expression was calm, almost serene, and the way he was looking at me was enough of a reminder that this was not my ex. This was a man who had never done anything to make me think I should ever be afraid of telling him something.
“I have a son.” The words tumbled out of me, and as soon as they were out there, I let out a relieved giggle and drank the rest of my water. “I’m a mom.”
Chapter 13
Jax
A son.
“Damn.”
Holly was looking everywhere but at me. Her eyes flicked from her empty wine glass to her now empty water glass, and then to her lap, where I suspected she was wringing her hands.
“How old is he?” I asked.
“Six.”
Six. “So that means?”
Holly nodded. “I found out I was pregnant shortly after I moved to Philadelphia with Kent. At the time, I figured having a baby would fix things between us. I thought that maybe it would bring us closer together. I was going to build my family.” She looked up at the cloudless evening sky and sighed. “I was so stupid.”
“Hey,” I said shortly, “you’re not stupid. I get it.”
Holly rubbed her lips together and finally met my eyes. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I just—” She broke off and laughed as her cheeks turned pink. “I just really liked the way you looked at me. It was like nothing had changed, and you still saw the girl that life hadn’t fucked up yet.”
“You’re not fucked up, Holly.”
She gave me a deadpan stare. “Oh, no?”
“No.”
“I moved away with a man I wasn’t in love with because I thought it was the best thing, and then I let him dictate my entire life for over six years. And my son’s life. I let him take me away from everything I knew and loved, and I let him keep me there. Under him. Like a thing instead of a person.”
My pulse was hammering in my ears as I listened to her. Kent was a dick. Always had been. But was he the kind of man who would ever hurt Holly? God fucking help him if he had laid a hand on her.
I mustered the courage to ask the question I needed the answer to. “Did he ever hit you?”
Holly shook her head. “No. Never. I swear it.”
Relief washed over me, leaving me feeling temporarily light-headed. I reached for my own water and took a couple of refreshing mouthfuls before giving her my full attention again. “But it was bad enough that you left?”
She nodded. “He drank a lot, and he was angry all the time. It went from foul moods to violent outbursts where he would put his fist through the wall. Breaking things was as bad as it ever got, but I didn’t want to stick around to see how long it would take before he got bored of that. I couldn’t expose Luke to that any longer than I already had.”
“Luke.” The name felt strange on my tongue. The name of a boy who had been fathered by the woman I lo
ved and another man. “That’s your son’s name?”
Holly nodded and the strict way she was holding herself melted away a little bit. “Yes. Luke.”
“How’s he doing? He adjusting to all this okay?”
Holly stared at me for a moment before answering. “He’s a tough kid. He misses his dad, but he missed him when we all lived in the same house too. Kent wasn’t around much. After work, he’d go to the bar, and if he came home before midnight, it was a rare exception. He’d sleep in on the weekends, and maybe once a month, the three of us would do something together. But it never entertained Kent long. He would get bored and start itching for a beer, and that would be the end of it. Luke knew as well as I did that as soon as his father had a sip of beer, the day was done.”
“I’m sorry, Holly. You deserve better than that piece of shit.”
“I know.”
“Leaving must have been really hard. You’re a badass mom. Luke is lucky to have you looking out for him. Fighting the good fight. Not all kids have a parent who is willing to do what it takes to protect them from their own family.”
I was horrified to see tears clinging to Holly’s bottom lashes. “Hey,” I said, trying to think of all the things not to say when a woman was crying. “It’s all right. I didn’t mean to make you upset. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. You didn’t make me upset.”
I sat there blinking like an idiot as she dabbed at her eyes and chuckled at my shell-shocked expression.
“Thank you. I needed to hear that. The badass mom part, mostly.”
Sensing that the waterworks were over, I called over the waitress and ordered us both another drink and put in our food order. Five minutes later, a plate of piping hot spanakopita were placed in front of us with a cup of tzatziki sauce.
“So tell me,” I said, “What’s Luke like?”
Holly was chewing with her hand in front of her mouth. When she swallowed, she met my eyes and held my gaze. I could feel the joy radiating off her as she spoke about her son.
“He’s sweet and attentive. He likes taking care of me, funny enough. I think he likes my birthday more than his own. Last year, he somehow got himself up and out of bed before me and brought me breakfast in bed.”
