“Oh my God,” she breathes, the vibe of the room going wired. “Oh, fuck. Your Dad is going to kill him. As in, Tank will murder him in his sleep, and it won’t be pretty.”
“Huh?” I mumble, confused.
“Jonas is the Dad?” She asks, which only confuses me more.
I thought Avery said she read mine and Bella’s messages. If she did, she would have known that already. The realization slams home, turning the tables on her, I spit,
“You didn’t read them all did you? You did what you always do, didn’t you? See what you want to and to hell with context. There was a lot more to those messages than the limited amount you read. Jesus, Avery, do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Running my hands through my messy hair, I add, “And you say I complicated things. Well, thanks to you, this is a great big clusterfuck that isn’t solely restricted to the two people who need to be involved, but the eleven extras you brought with you. Remind me to send a card of appreciation when all is said and done because I really appreciate the position you’ve put me in.”
“Don’t try and pin this shit on me. I wasn’t the one who got myself knocked up and ran away so I didn’t have to deal with the fallout. You should have told us, then you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. And by the way, I’d like my card in black and red. Send flowers too,” she counters waspishly.
“You’re right, Avery as always. You aren’t the one dealing with this, and you probably wouldn’t have run. But then, you don’t have anything to run away from, do you?” I snap back. “You’ve got it all, Avery. A beautiful house to call your home, two MC’s worth of men who adore you, and a man who loves you and wants to start a family with you. You have everything I have wanted since I was a little girl, and all you’re worried about is how much fun you can have and how much trouble you can get yourself in before you starting popping out babies. Wasn’t that what you said? That you wanted to get your quota of good times in before it was too late.”
“That is not fair, Blaine, and you know it,” she returns, looking pained.
“Oh no, Avery,” I continue. “What’s not fair is you storming in here and taking your fear and anger out on me. I know I should have told you, but if you were in my position, knowing that you were going to be forced to choose where you’re loyalty lies, what would you have done? The exact same fucking thing, that’s what. So, before you say something you will eventually regret, if you haven’t already, I suggest you go outside and get them to stand down. I am not going out there to be cannon fodder for your fucked up decision.” I finish with, “There’s a diner two blocks over called, Morrie’s. Tell my Dad I will meet him, and only him, there in ten minutes.”
“You know that’s not going to fly, Blaine. Those men aren’t going anywhere until they have seen for themselves you’re okay.”
“Well, I suggest you get creative then, because if anyone other than my Dad is there when I walk through the door, I’m gone. Dad can brief them after we’ve talked. Until then, they need to back the hell off,” I warn.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she acquiesces turning to leave. Opening the door, Avery spins back to face me, her unshed tears now steadily falling. “I love you, you know? I might not have been able to help, and I might not have been able to give you the best if any advice, but I would have been there for you. Every step of the way, I would have been there to hold your hand, Blaine. I hope you know that.”
Shutting the door on our conversation, and for all I know our friendship, I let myself break for the second time today.
CHAPTER TEN
~ Hunter ‘Tank’ Adams ~
“Brother: “Hey dad, I got a girlfriend.” Dad: “Good job son. Sister: “Hey daddy, I got a boyfriend.” Dad: *loads shotgun*.”
- A fact of life
My daughter is pregnant. My only daughter, my little girl, my baby, is having a baby of her own. Jesus fucking Christ that makes me feel old. Not in years, but bone-weary, exhausted, old.
I thought it would be my boys who gave me gray hair, caused their mother to lose sleep, and brought home pregnancy scares, not my little girl. Not my Blaine.
The moment I was handed the tiny pink bundle that was my daughter, I fell in love for only the second time in my life. My wife, my reason for breathing was and always will be my first love, but my daughter comes in a very close second. I love my sons, and I couldn’t imagine living my life this far without them, but the love a man has for his little girl is a different kind of beast.
I’ve never felt like I have to protect my boys; they know how to take care of themselves, and I trust if there ever comes a time they can’t, they’ll come to me for help. But, Blaine? She has always been different. Not just because she’s a girl, but because her heart and beautiful, tender soul deserved protection only a father can offer.
Her mother and I didn’t shelter her. Blaine grew up around the club, knows what we stand for and that we operate either side of the law depending on the circumstances. She didn’t blink when a brother was brought back to the clubhouse needing stitches from a knife wound or a bullet removed. My girl would smile at him, ask how she could help, and sit with him until he eventually passed out from pain.
That said, certain aspects of the lifestyle I did keep from her.
Blaine didn’t date, didn’t have the opportunity to meet men, and I enlisted my boys, her brothers, to keep an eye on her when I couldn’t. We were successful too. But to what end?
My daughter didn’t have a hope in hell of making the right choice when it came to the man who would essentially take over my role in protecting her. I never gave her the chance to try and fail, knowing all the while I would pick her up when she fell.
Priss talked to me at length about giving Blaine some breathing room to find her own way. Yet, my wife’s every suggestion was met with resolute refusal from me. I couldn’t bring myself to release Blaine into the shark tank that is dating. She wasn’t ready at sixteen when she told me a kid from school asked her out. She wasn’t ready at eighteen when she begged me to let the Wide Receiver on the high school football team take her to prom. And she wasn’t ready when she moved out to live with Avery.
“Tank,” Avery murmurs, tugging on my arm.
“Where is she?” I demand gruffly.
“Um, about that,” Avery mumbles. “Blaine told me to tell you there’s a diner called Morrie’s two blocks over that she wants you to meet her at,” she continues softly.
“Fine. When?”
“Wait, there’s more,” she urges. “She said just you. Blaine wants to talk to you alone.”
I can hear the hesitance in Avery’s voice, and I understand why it’s there. My brothers, my club; we’re family. These men have had my back through some situations I wouldn’t have been able to count on my own blood brothers for. We don’t hide shit. We don’t have secrets. And when family needs help; we rally. That’s why they’re here. To have my back, and, in turn, Blaine’s too.
“Not sure that’s gonna work, darlin’,” I state matter-of-factly.
“She said if you weren’t alone, she was leaving. Blaine isn’t in a good place right now, Tank, and I think being confronted by everyone, family or not, may just push her over the edge,” she admits cautiously.
“Boys,” I holler. As they surround Avery and me, I inform them, “My girl needs to talk to her Dad, so that means I’m gonna have to ask you to hold back till I give the all clear.”
Growling deep in the back of his throat, Reaper grinds out,
“She’s your girl, Tank, but she’s ours too. I get this has got to be handled carefully, but she needs all her family, not just you. That girl needs to see she’s got people who’ll support her whether she wants that right now or not.”
“He’s not fucking wrong, brother,” Saint rumbles beside him. “This was one of my girls we were talking about, I’d want you there to help soften whatever blows were coming. For you, and for her.”
Snapping at him, worried Blaine will take off
again without me getting the opportunity to see where her head is at first, I bark,
“See, that’s the thing, though. She’s not one of your girls, Saint, and they aren’t in this situation, which means you don’t actually have the first fucking clue what you’d do as a father. If Blaine wants me and me only, that’s what she’ll get.”
Glock steps in between Saint and me when he sees Saint take a threatening step forward. Placing a large hand on Saint’s chest, Glock reasons,
“How about we let the man go check on his kid and take it from there. He’s got the right to make this choice, and we’re here to support him, not make shit harder for him.”
“Be back,” I throw over my shoulder, heading in the direction Avery pointed.
*****
Morrie’s is a standard diner for Boulder and the greater Denver area. Clean within an inch of its life, pricey art on the walls, state of the art commercial espresso machine, the place reeks class. Not a place I’d usually been seen dead in, but whatever my little girl wants, I’m willing to suffer the uncomfortable stares to give it to her.
Spotting her at a two-top at the very back, Blaine’s back is to me. She’s taken that seat knowing I’ll want a complete and unencumbered view of the diner and entrance. Good girl.
Where on any other given day I’d pull her out of her chair, hug her tightly and reassure myself she’s okay, this time, I don’t. I need to assess the situation and her frame of mind before I make that play.
I sit across from her, allowing my eyes to take in every inch of the extraordinary beauty she inherited from her mother. Blaine’s long, thick hair is glossier. Her cheeks have a healthy glow about them, and I know it’s her pregnancy giving her that because all other indications say my girl is struggling.
Usually bright, Blaine’s eyes are flat, empty, haunted, with dark purple circles beneath them, highlighting how pale her normally tan skin is.
“Baby,” I whisper, sucker punched at the sight of her.
“Daddy,” she murmurs, not meeting my eyes.
Using my thumb and forefinger, I tilt her head up until I have her undivided attention.
“How you doing, baby girl?”
“Not great and not horrible, somewhere in between,” she admits softly and quickly.
And I believe her.
If there’s one thing I know about my daughter, it’s this. How the baby she’s carrying came about, whether she had to go it alone or not, my girl will hang tough through anything to make sure it comes out unscathed, healthy, fucking perfect.
As a toddler she played with baby dolls, dressing them, feeding them, emulating everything her mother did with her younger brother Miles. The older Blaine got, the more responsibility she took with the younger kids who belonged to the club. Keeping them entertained, playing with them, bandaging scraped knees; she did it all, and she loved every second of it.
Blaine, like her mother, is a caretaker by nature and nurture. She loves her Mom, but more than that, she respects the hell out of her. Dozens of times I’ve heard bits and pieces of conversations Blaine has had with friends where she told them she wants to grow up to be just like her Mom. And as far as I’m concerned, far worse things could happen.
“Could guess that, baby, so how about you tell your old man the truth, yeah?” I prod gently.
I don’t want to push her, Blaine needs to do things at her own pace, but if left up to her, she will draw this out only making it harder than it has to be. Something neither one of us would benefit from.
Shaking her head which dislodges my hand, Blaine sighs.
“I’m not really sure what you want me to say, Dad. I didn’t plan this, I was as shocked as you are, but I’ve had time to get used to the idea. It might not be the way I had imagined it happening, but I’m no less happy. At least, about the baby that is.”
“Know that too, girl,” I clarify. “You were born to be a Momma, just like yours was. As soon as Avery told me what was going on with you, I knew you’d find your way clear to being happy about it. Not what I wanna know, though. I need you to explain to my why you left your job, your place, your friends. No bullshit either.”
A weighty pause follows as I watch my girl order her thoughts. It won’t do her much good, I’ve never had a problem reading her. Blaine’s facial expressions, her eyes, her body language, gives her away every time.
“Honestly?” She asks when she finally works up the courage to speak.
“Nothing but,” I confirm.
“I needed some time to work out what I’m going to do now, not about the baby, but everything else. When I spoke to my boss, he said he can’t promise to keep my position open by filling it with relief teachers, but if it hasn’t been filled by the time I’m ready to return, he’ll have me back. And when it came to the apartment, it just wasn’t going to work, Dad.”
“Yeah, see, that’s what I need you to clear up for me, baby. Last time we talked, you said you loved living with Bella. That bitch might be crazy, but she’s good people,” I counter, my patience fading fast.
I just know this conversation is about to disintegrate when Blaine starts wringing her hands in her lap. When my girl gets nervous, she fidgets. Has done since she was small.
Standing up, I drag my chair around the table until I’m boxing her in; the wall on one side of her, me on the other. I take her hand in mine, and implore,
“You’ve got to talk to me, Blaine. It took a lot of convincing to get your Mom to stay at home and let me see where you’re at first. If you don’t talk to me now and give me something I can take home to her to put her mind at ease, she’s gonna be knocking on your door by tonight. But more than that, you’ve got to talk to me because you need it. Locking yourself in your head, trying to sort out whatever’s eating at you isn’t going to work, and you know it. Every time something happens that has you retreating into yourself, you complicate the shit out of it by tearing it apart and putting it back together so many times you can’t make heads or tails of it in the end. Share the load, baby girl. There’s a hell of a lot of people willing to bear some or all of that burden if you let us.”
Watching your daughter dissolve into hysterical sobs does something to a man. Nobody likes to see the women in his life brought low, but I’ve always struggled with tears. Anger, I can deal with. Sullen silences, I ignore them and eventually they get over it. But tears? Fuck no.
A few minutes and more tears than any one woman should even cry later, Blaine collects herself, saying,
“I set myself a limit on crying jags, and I just reached it. Three is already three too many, but I’m cutting myself some slack at the moment. Sorry,” she mutters at the end.
“All good, baby. You know I’ve got you.”
“I do,” she nods.
“So now we’ve established you needed time to get yourself together, and that you couldn’t do that in Furnace or at home with your Mom and me, are we going to stop fucking around and talk about the elephant in the room?” I question, a wave of exhaustion hitting me hard. This talking shit is hard work.
“You’re not exactly giving me much of a choice, Dad. I know you. You won’t leave or let me until I tell you But I do appreciate the level of patience you’ve harnessed,” she quips.
She’s absolutely fucking correct.
There is no way I’m leaving this damn chair until Blaine’s told me who the motherfucker that knocked her up is and where I can find him. Taking off and deserting my baby while she’s carrying his kid is unacceptable. And when I find him, I’ll make sure I communicate just how unacceptable it truly is.
The crash of glass hitting the floor interrupts whatever Blaine is about to say, followed by the screech of a woman berating the hell out of someone for being so careless. Fucking uptight bitch, I muse. This is why I hate these pretentious places. Shit happens. We’re human after all. Making the poor bastard feel like shit isn’t going to solve anything, so why not just let it go?
“Blaine,” a deep voice rumbles behind
me to my left.
Craning my neck, I find Jonas. He only has eyes for Blaine, though. His intense stare would intimidate the shit out of ninety-nine point nine percent of people, and clearly my daughter isn’t one of the lucky few who’s immune to it.
Grabbing a chair from a nearby recently vacated table, Jonas swings it around so he’s straddling it, his front to the backrest. I take note of the fact he’s wedged himself between me and my daughter, his eyes now glaring daggers at her.
“What are you doing here? This is a closed party, Jay. Boys should have told you that,” I inform him shortly.
Not hesitating, his gaze never leaving Blaine’s face, he replies,
“Yeah, a closed party of three. Figure since this involves me and no one bothered to send me an invitation, I’d show up anyway. I’ve got a few questions of my own that need answering.”
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas Page 73
