Hopelessly Devoted: (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter #3)

by Bink Cummings

  Disregarding my freshly fucked reflection in the mirror, I snatch a washcloth from underneath the sink and begin wiping up the cummy explosion. On the second swipe, a jelly lump tinged with blood winds up on the cotton. No. No! This cannot be happening. Not now. I stare at the gelatinous blob in denial. Out of the blue, a familiar wave of motherhood hits stronger than before—a true contraction. It’s painful as hell.

  Gripping the vanity for support, I Lamaze breathe through the tightness wreaking havoc as the stark realization that there’s no going back takes root. I’ve officially lost my mucus plug. If my two other pregnancies were any barometer for what’s to come, I’m gonna have this baby in the next 48 hours. The contractions will be sporadic, yet excruciating until my water breaks and then the baby will make an immediate appearance. Hopefully, if I’m lucky, this is an overreaction, and she’ll wait for her due date to grace us with her presence. It’s way too soon. I’m about three weeks out. Full-term by doctor standards, but early nonetheless.

  Massaging the side of my stomach as it loosens; I finish cleaning the vag mess and find another pair of sweats from Ryker’s closet before joining my family in the living room. All four of the men in my life are sprawled out on the chair and couch. Dad’s stolen Walker, who’s passed out on his chest. The impulse to reclaim my son is great. Doing the mature thing, I shove that notion to the wayside. There’s no reason the men in my life can’t hold my boy. I’ve got plenty of time to cuddle the little bug. Plus, it’s not exactly smart to carry him at this point, when I know a contraction could sneak up at any moment. However, until I’m positive that I’m in true labor, I have no intention of telling any of the guys. They’ll freak. Irrationally so. Bear’s daily texts are a prime example. Every morning since the accident, I’ve woken up to him asking how I’m feeling. It doesn’t help that none of my family was happy to find out I skipped my last doctor’s appointment. It’s not entirely my fault that I have no desire to see that flirty doc without Ryker. There’s no telling what she’ll say or how she’ll act. And taking Kade, since I was pissed at him on Walker’s behalf, wasn’t gonna happen. Not when I was set on strangling him.

  Still a little salty about their stupid behavior, I ignore my family and carefully lower to the floor to dive headfirst into one of the bags that they brought home. The room goes silent as they watch me unload a fancy breast pump, enough bottles for a small orphanage, and four packs of pacifiers in different styles. Who needs four kinds of binkies? Walker probably won’t even take them. He’s too fond of his fingers.

  Looking over my shoulder at Ryker, I hold up the four colorful packs. “Are we having quads and I wasn’t aware?” I tease, bouncing my eyebrows.

  From the comfort of the couch, Ryker pokes his sexy tongue out, grinning half-cocked. “Smartass.”

  “You like it,” I quip.

  “I fucking love it. But no. I got them because I heard some babies are picky ‘bout their pacifiers. We don’t wanna have a screamin’ kid at two in the mornin’ and only one type of paci she spits out. Consider them backups. We can return whatever we don’t need.”

  Well, alrighty then. I wasn’t expecting that.

  Is it weird that his considerate daddy talk makes me wanna jump his bones again? I’ve never been more attracted to Ryker than I am at this moment.

  Not sure what to say that isn’t gonna make me sound lovesick, I continue to rifle through the giant sack. There are breast milk storage bags, and diaper rash ointment left. The next bag has everything from small toys to cloth diapers that I’ll use as burp cloths. Honestly, I’m impressed he remembered. By the fourth bag, I’ve got the entire floor littered with baby items. There’s a large stack of boy clothes in one pile that go from 0-3 months to 3-6 months. The girl pile is much the same. The amount of pink and purple is overwhelming. Can’t we go mint or light blue for once? Why do girls always gotta wear pinks and purples? At least he bought her a little black dress, which is nothing more than a onesie with attached tutu.

  “They’re deliverin’ the matchin’ crib and dresser sets in a few days. I paid extra for them to build ‘em on site, so I don’t have to,” Ryker notes as I read the extras printed on this swing box. Beside it is a matching unisex playpen with a built-in changing table. They never had this super awesome shit when the girls were little. We also didn’t have the money to afford it if they did. This is pretty darn incredible.

  By the time I’ve dug through our stuff, I’ve kept a straight face as another contraction took hold, read numerous packaging, cataloged in my head what we have and where it should go, and embraced the blazing love expanding inside my chest. He’s gotten everything I could’ve thought of and more. Way more. We’re set for months. The four boxes of wipes and diapers are overkill. It’s like we’re stockpiling to have quints.

  As the guys continue to carry on amongst themselves, the back door slams open, followed by a rush of footfalls.

  “Mom!” Scarlett skids to a halt beside the chair. Her eyes widen, soaking up the goodies.

  Crawling on my hands and knees to the single undisturbed bag, I shove it across the hardwood toward her feet. Rox pauses beside her sister, equally taken with the baby depot. “Hey girls, open that.” I point, sitting back on my haunches.

  They exchange curious glances before dropping backpacks on the floor by their feet with a thunk and peeking inside. Scarlett, my impatient one, dips her grubby paws in the bag first and extracts a shirt and jewelry box with her name engraved on the top. Propping the black garment on her chest, she looks down and reads the white script aloud. “Big Sister.”

  Following suit, Roxie does the same, her cute expression twisted in confusion. “Biggest Sister.”

  At the very bottom of the sack, Scarlett seizes the final two objects and fans them on the ground in front of her. The matching black onesies are a sight for sore eyes. I’m thrilled Ryker pulled this off. Clever man.

  “Little Brother?” Rox mumbles to her sissy, fingering the cotton.

  “Brother.” Scarlett tests the word on her palate.

  “The other says Littlest Sister,” Roxie illuminates.

  “It does,” I add, grinning so wide my cheeks ache.

  “I thought we didn’t know if he was Dad’s or not?” Rox looks to me for an explanation.

  “Got the test back. He is, kiddo. Which makes him your brother,” Ryker answers in my stead, flashing a smile that would make the straightest man weak at the knees.

  Scarlett jumps to her feet and launches herself at her dad. Wrapping him in a monkey hug, babbling her excitement, she stuffs her face in the crook of his neck. Both of his muscly arms engulf her tiny frame as he winks at me over her shoulder. My insides go berserk at the adorable sight. Rox, who’s not as crazy as her sister, drops onto the floor next to me with her arms extended. I take that as my cue to get some much-needed lovin’. Her hair smells of strawberries as I take a whiff.

  Smartass Uncle Kade, not wanting to be left out, lets his presence be known. “Hello. What am I, chopped liver? Where are my after-school hugs?” He waves the girls forth with theatrical gimme gimme hand movements.

  Rox snickers and pecks my cheek before she entertains her uncle’s need for attention. Scarlett giggles and joins her sister in a three-way hug with Dickcheese, whose lazy ass doesn’t even get off the couch. Nope. He forces them to bend and hug. Then the fool drags them into his lap. Roxie on one knee, Scarlett on the other; all three of them rolling in laughter. It’s contagious, and soon the entire room has erupted in silly merriment.

  Quirking a come-hither finger and patting his lap, Ryker draws me like a moth to a flame. I struggle to get to my feet to join him. Just as I do another powerful contraction takes hold. Dammit. Panicked they’ll notice, I forgo my man’s invitation and waddle to the bathroom without saying a word. Locking myself inside, I drop the toilet lid in place and take a seat on the top to breathe through the agony. Grinding my molars, I close my eyes and try not to fight the inevitable. 35 seconds feels like an eternit
y.

  Exhaling in relief as soon as the vice releases my poor uterus, I rub my daughter. “Why can’t you wait?” I whisper as if she’ll respond. “Couldn’t you give me another week or two?”

  Her snarky comeback is a foot in the ribs. Not that I can blame her. It’s my body’s fault, not hers. It has to be uncomfortable living in a sac for months on end. If I was her, I’d be cranky, too.

  Now that I’m fairly certain these bitches aren’t going to let up until my babes is delivered, I need to decide how to proceed. Do I inform Ryker? Do I ask him to call the doc? Do I tell Kade? Frankly, I don’t wanna say a thing. Maybe I can get through dinner tonight without incident, and before we go to bed, I’ll tell Ryker. This way I don’t interrupt our evening. Tonight is cause for celebration. Walker is officially ours for life. If that doesn’t warrant a special dinner and family time, I dunno what does. And this damn body of mine isn’t gonna ruin that. As long as my water doesn’t break, I’ll be fine… I hope.

  Decision made, I stack my strong mind over matter, fix my clothes, and rejoin my chatty family in the living room.

  “How does pizza sound for dinner?” I ask, maneuvering around the baby crap to take a seat on Ryker’s good leg, right where I wanna be. Rox and Scarlett are busy doing their homework on the floor by the front door with Grandpa Bear’s help. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that big, burly man would be sitting Indian style on the hardwood, stroking his beard as he listens to Scarlett prattle on about her latest assignment, juice box in hand. It’s an awe-inspiring sight. If I had my camera handy, I’d snap a pic.

  My man’s arms wrap around me as he sprinkles tiny kisses on my temple. “Pizza sounds good, babe.”

  Snatching the remote off the end table, Kade puts some sort of classic car show on the TV as I relax on my lover. Head resting on his shoulder, legs draped over his, feet pressing into the couch cushions. I listen to the strong lub lub of his heart in my ear while he talks random car stuff with my dad. The deep purr of his voice echoing inside his chest sounds personal. Like it’s a special cadence made just for me.

  Over the next however many hours we spend quality time as a family unit. Pizza is ordered and devoured. Beer drank by the males. Pie fought over. With me winning three large slices that I’m saving for later. Once the girls’ homework is complete, Uncle Kade changes the channel to a kid-friendly movie about a dog. I take my leave on multiple occasions, pretending to pee, when in reality I’m fighting the unrelenting squeeze of contractions. Nobody seems to notice, and for that I’m grateful. The best part of the night is watching Ryker feed his son a bottle and burp him without needing any direction. As if it’s second nature to him. A flood of memories bring me back to the days when he would do the same for our daughters. While some men are lazy with their parenting, leaving most of the duties to the mother, I’ve been blessed with a man who takes pride in carrying half the load. Even if he isn’t quite capable with his casted leg.

  Before bedtime, the girls take showers, kiss their favorite uncle and grandpas goodnight, and climb into bed to await our nightly ritual.

  “You go be with the girls, I’ll put Walker down,” I explain to Ryker as I steal my son from Grandpa Bear cuddles. He’s reluctant to release him to me. With a parting kiss to his grandson’s forehead, Bear relinquishes his hold by placing my babes in my waiting arms.

  Scooting by me on his wheeled contraption, Ryker pauses to kiss my cheek. “See ya in there soon, sweetheart.” He pinches my butt in departure.

  “Y-yep.” I flush at his never-ending charm. Sometimes I wonder what a man like that wants with a woman like me. I’m average, and he’s well… sort of an asshole… but a hot, unconditionally loveable one.

  As Ryker joins our daughters, I say goodbye to the other three men in my life. Bear offers me a tight hug, careful not to suffocate a sleeping Walker. Dad is worse. He won’t stop; rubbing my belly, kissing my face, wrapping me in a warm embrace that only a daddy can give his daughter.

  “Love you so much, peanut,” he coos to my ear.

  “Love you, too, Dad.”

  “If you need me. Call.”

  “I’m gonna be fine.” Which is code for I’ll call you tomorrow when my water breaks.

  Taking a step back he strokes a palm down my arm and assesses me from nose to toes, then back again. If he looks too closely, I’m afraid he’ll call me on my shit. Perhaps he already knows and is too much of a gentleman to cause a scene. Is that why he’s been clingy tonight? Always wanting to put stuff in the sink or fridge for me. He even sat down to give me a foot rub. Yeah. He must know. My father and I were close growing up. It’d only make sense that he could tell something was off kilter tonight. The long bathroom breaks and lack of appetite might’ve risen the alarm. Those eyes of his miss nothing.

  Leaning in once more, he kisses my cheek and lingers there. “Call me when it happens.”

  Bingo.

  “I will. Please don’t say anything,” I whisper in return, trying hard to keep a straight face since Bear’s watching our exchange like a hawk. He’s gotta be ready to go home. They’ve been here longer than they usually are.

  “I won’t. But I’m serious. You can’t do this alone.”

  “Ryker will be here.” Attempting to ease his wariness isn’t easy. If I was in his shoes, it’d be hard for me to leave my daughter if I knew she was in labor. Hell, I’d probably demand to sleep on her couch to keep an eye on things. Yes, that’s what my kids have to look forward to—an overbearing mother.

  “I’m gonna leave Kade here,” Dad murmurs.

  My heart rate spikes in fear. A cold sweat breaks out along the base of my neck, dampening my hair. I shiver.

  “No. Please don’t.” I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose to distract myself from overreacting.

  “You don’t like that doctor. I know you. You’re gonna avoid callin’ her at all costs. Kade is the next best thing to that lady.”

  He’s right. Too right.

  Dad knows all about my discomfort with her unprofessional medical practices. Do I love the idea of birthing in a suite instead of the hospital? Yes. But I loathe the idea of her delivering any of my kids. The more I think about seeing her again, the more my skin crawls. A hospital birth doesn’t seem so bad if the alternative is her. There…that’s the plan. I’ve made up my mind. When my water breaks, I’ll deliver at the hospital. No need to stress over seeing that doctor again. Lord knows if she heard about Ryker’s accident, which I’m sure everyone in town did, she'd try to fuck him in the middle of labor out of sympathy. Ya know, because I can’t have sex for six weeks after birth. Wouldn’t want him to have to wait. Sheesh, I’ve gotta stop focusing on this outlandish bullpucky. There’s no use in trying to avoid reality. Let’s face it, I’m going to be a mom again and soon. There’s no turning back.

  Finalizing our goodbye, before Dad can dampen my responsible planning, I half wrap him in another brief hug. Then move on to Dickcheese for a special bestie embrace. One that gives you all the feels and a sense of security that you can’t siphon from anybody else. They’re Dickcheesy scented.

  One arm around his strong middle, cheek on pec, I close my eyes and bask in the comfort, careful not to smoosh Walker.

  His lips press to the top of my head. “See ya tomorrow, Watermelon Tits. You be good. Call if you need me.”

  “I will.”

  “I mean it.”

  Loving his sincerity, we hug a little tighter. Any more snug and he’ll pop my water. “I know ya do.”

  Soaking up my fill like a needy sponge, I quietly finish our huggy time before escorting my men to the back door to lock up. With parting waves, they roll out. Two on their Harley’s, the third in a beat-up pickup that I don’t recognize. They must have a functioning junkyard around here that I’m unaware of. Half of the vehicles in Red Fort are a blast from the past—early to mid 90’s relics with faded paint and mild rust spots. It’s a miracle they’ve survived this long. Guess that’s the difference between T
exas and Indiana—inclement weather. You don’t see people salting roads ‘round here.

  I place Walker inside his bassinet next to our bed. Tucking a blanket halfway up his torso, I peck his dream crinkled forehead. His nose squishes up at my touch, but he doesn’t wake. Out of all my kids, Walker sleeps the most. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was part lion.

  Satisfied that he’s snug as a bug, I join Ryker and the girls in their bedroom.

  My love is sharing a large section of Roxie’s bed when I arrive.

  Scarlett waves me over to hers. “Dad’s reading to us.” She draws back her comforter for me to climb in. I do, making way too much noise. Once I’m situated, Scarlett tucks the soft blanket around us both. A headful of blonde hair descends to rest on top of my belly. Guess it does function as more than my own personal shelf. She drapes an arm across my lap as I lean against her headboard and stroke my fingers through her soft, damp hair.

  Beside our eldest daughter, Ryker resumes reading the first chapter of The Fairest of All: The Wicked Queen. To cheer the girls up after Ryker’s accident, I ordered the first book of the series, plus other various stories. In case you’re not familiar with it, Disney published numerous villain tales. This one being the queen from Snow White.

  “Snow White followed Verona into the Queen’s chambers,” he enunciates smoothly, setting a steady, perfect pace. This reminds me of the days when I would read to the children at the library. It was one of the best parts of my job. Over the years I’ve read hundreds of books to the girls before bed. To have someone replace me as narrator is bittersweet. More sweet than bitter. Ryker fills the role well.

  Tipping my head back to rest, I slip my drowsy eyes close to picture the scenes playing in my mind like a movie in high def. One chapter glides to the next; before I realize it, Scarlett’s asleep on my stomach. I’m not far behind.

  Ryker

  Tossin’ our blanket over my zombie woman’s legs, I scooter to my side of the bed and slip in beside her, sans clothes. Alright, ya caught me, I’ve got boxers on for the sake of my daughters. That’s the one and only downside to having girls. Your pecker has always gotta be covered. At least with Walker, we can hang out with our wangs out, and neither of us are gonna give a fuck. My bro and Pops never gave a shit when we were growin’ up. That’s one thing I’m gonna teach my son. Hopefully, he’ll understand he can’t do that with his sisters. Don’t wanna scar them too early in life. I never grew up with women. So I don’t have much experience in that department. Can’t help him navigate those waters, besides tellin’ him to hide the winkie in his boxers when the women folk are around.