by Olivia Chase
“I can totally tell what Aubrey sees in you. You’re charming,” I say to his back, laughing as his middle finger shoots up over his shoulder at me without him turning to look at me. I return my attention to the register.
A few minutes later, Jax strolls in. “Well, look who’s running on time and being responsible.”
I ignore him, count the change, and compare it to last night’s ending numbers to ensure we’re starting with the right amount. When I finish, I clang the register shut and roll my eyes at him. “Maybe if you’d stop humping your fiancée right before coming to work, you could be here on time too.”
Jax smirks. “But if I got here on time, I wouldn’t be giving Brooklyn the extra attention she needs,” he says. “Like, this one thing I do with my tongue—“
“Okay, that’s enough.” I pick up a dishrag and toss it at his face.
He laughs and catches it before it falls to the ground. “You used to love tales of my sexual prowess. Lightweight.”
A knock on the door draws both of our attention. We turn to see it crack open, and a woman in her mid-forties peeks her head in, then steps inside. She has on a pair of old jeans and a faded Metallica T-shirt, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail.
When she sees us, she stops in place, presses a hand to her mouth. Her eyes are wide and fixed on us.
“Uh, we’re not open yet,” I tell her, uncomfortable with her blatant staring. “Come back in an hour.” I start to tell Jax he should have locked the door behind us when she clears her throat and wipes at tears in her eyes.
“Oh my God, it’s really you. Jax. Asher, oh God…you’re so big.” She chokes on her words and moves toward us.
Uneasiness makes my chest tight, my lungs squeezing to the size of grapes. I’m getting an uncomfortable feeling I know who she is.
“Who are you?” Jax asks in his usual blunt matter.
“Boys, I’m…” She swallows. “I’m your mom.”
Jax and I stand there in shocked silence, staring at her. I can’t move, can’t speak.
It is her. My mom.
In the flesh.
She isn’t dead. She’s alive and here in Outlaws and as I look closer to her, I can see the resemblance to me, to my brothers. The same eye shape, the shape of our chin, the dirty blond hair.
We look like her.
Like our fucking mother.
“Smith!” Jax bellows, not tearing his gaze away from the woman claiming to be our mom. “You need to get your ass out here now.”
He must hear the urgency in Jax’s voice, because he doesn’t just shoot back a smart-assed reply. He emerges from the office quickly and eyes me and Jax, and when his gaze lands on the woman, he pauses, gasps, walks over to her. Clutches her shoulders and peers down at her face for several painfully long seconds.
“Holy shit. It can’t be,” he breathes.
She nods and a sob bursts from her chest, and Smith draws her into a tight hug. She folds her arms around him. “My babies. I missed you so much. Oh God, I missed you.”
Jax walks over to her side, and she gives him a tearful hug as he wraps his arms around her.
I can’t seem to move yet. Can’t wrap my head around what’s happening. My brain is a maelstrom, and I feel like I’ve been tossed into the deep end of the pool with a concrete block tied to my back.
Mom talks with Smith and Jax for a couple of minutes, their voices a confused cacophony. They’re asking her a million questions—where she was, what happened, why she’s here now.
Jax goes behind the bar and pours four beers, then tugs the seats down at one table. “I think we need a drink. You have a lot to explain, Mom.”
The excitement of the moment fades away for them too, and I’m sure the serious questions that are hammering through my head are now in theirs.
Why she was gone for twenty years without one word. Where she was.
My brothers and my mom sit down. She looks over at me, her eyes wary; clearly she can sense my negative feelings.
“I’ll explain it all to you,” she says. “I know you’re probably upset and confused and angry.”
“You have no idea how I feel,” I finally manage to say.
She nods, not taking offense at my sharp tone. “That’s fair. It’s okay that you’re angry. And if you decide you don’t want to see me again after this, I’ll understand. I can’t expect anything from you, despite what I want. But I’d just like the opportunity to tell you what happened to me.”
I make myself take the seat opposite of her, both drawn to and repulsed by her at the same time. I ignore the beer on the table in front of me. Jax and Smith take swallows of theirs; Mom doesn’t drink her beer, either. She crosses her hands on the table and fiddles with her fingers.
“Twenty years ago…” She clears her throat, and I can see a telltale sheen in her eyes. “God, I’ve repeated this in my head a million times. The things I’d say when I finally saw you boys. And now I’m just so overwhelmed.” She presses a hand to her chest and draws in several deep breaths. Mom turns her gaze to the table and says in halting words, “I don’t know what your father told you, but from what I understand, he said that I left you guys. I asked him to say that because…I was ashamed of what actually happened.”
“Go on,” Smith urges. He takes a gulp of beer.
“We were so poor back in those days—most of the time we lived on ramen noodles and whatever food stamps would buy us. I was always worried we would end up on the street—but perhaps I should’ve worried more about where I actually did end up.” Mom’s tired laugh holds no mirth. “One day, about a year after you were born, Asher, I got an opportunity to make a lot of money. We were so desperate, and I thought it wouldn’t be so bad—I just had to drive a getaway car. A lot of money for a couple of hours’ work.” She shrugs. “I was a fool. The people I was with robbed a bank, but they screwed up and someone got shot.”
“They murdered someone?” I ask, feeling blood rise to my face.
“No, it was an accident and the person lived,” she says, shaking her head. “But it easily could have been murder. As it was, we all got arrested and charged, prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
Her words sit heavy on me. Fuck. Out of everything she could have said, Mom being in jail was the last thing I would have expected.
“And Dad?” Smith says. “Did he give you the okay to help rob a fucking bank?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head violently side to side. “He never wanted me involved in any rough stuff. And I never was up until that point, but I thought that if I could just get this money, maybe we would have a little breathing room…it was so wrong, and so stupid of me.”
“Wow, that’s some crazy shit,” Jax murmurs, his beer forgotten.
“I asked your father to not tell you what really happened to me. But we wrote each other every week, and he kept me up to date on everything you were all doing. Those stories kept me going even when I thought I couldn’t go on anymore.”
Smith shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense, though. The whole town should know what really happened. You going away for robbing a bank would be big news around these parts.”
“It didn’t happen here, baby.” She smiles sadly. “I did the job out of state. If you want to go and check the newspapers from that year, you should check the ones in New Hampshire.”
“And the funeral?” I ask, my heart pounding.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I never asked for details like that.”
“It was a fake,” Smith says, his voice flat. “Dad held a small service, acted like she wanted to be cremated. It was all a lie.”
“I wanted to protect you from all of this,” she says, “but I know that it was wrong. All of it. And I’m sorry, please, you have to believe me.” Her voice breaks yet again. “All I ever thought about was you three.”
“That’s not the same as you being there to raise us,” I say coldly. “And letting us think you were dead? That’s shitty of you,
and Dad.” I can’t believe he would do that. This woman shows up and she’s our long-lost mom, and now she’s telling me things about my dad that sullies his memory.
Anger fills my chest again, replacing the bewilderment and shock.
Smith’s jaw tightens. “Asher’s right. Why would you trick us that way? And why are you here now?”
Mom’s mouth turns down. “I don’t fault you for being angry. But I wasn’t trying to trick you. I was humiliated and I knew I’d be away for a very long time. I thought it would be worse for the three of you to know I was rotting in a cell all these years. And then when your dad died, I wasn’t up for parole yet and I had to wait. I was just released last week. I came straight here to find you.” She sighs and looks down at the table, her frail shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you if you want to kick me out and never see me again. If I could go back and redo everything, I would. Spending the last five years only getting little pieces of information about you guys was killing me. And living all that time without your father, without you…” A wet sob bursts from her, and she claps a hand over her mouth.
Jax’s eyes fill with concern. “Fuck, you can see how this kinda pulls the rug out from under us, right? What is it you want now?”
“I just…” She sniffs and attempts to calm her ragged breathing. I can’t help but study her, try to see if I can remember anything. But I’ve got nothing. I was so young when she left that the woman before me is a stranger. A stranger with my features. “I want to know you guys. I want some kind of relationship, anything you’re comfortable with. I’ve been set up with an apartment, and I got a job. I’m not here to ask for any money or for anything other than your time. If you want to give it to me.”
Her eyes are so full of hope and fear that it crushes me, as much as it feeds into my anger.
“I…I need time to think,” I say. I can’t deal with this right now, with the heaviness smothering me, threatening to break me.
Mom, alive. Here, in the flesh. She’s alive after abandoning us, lying to us, and Dad is dead, and he lied to us too for so many years.
Mom rises from her seat. She grabs a napkin and pen from the bar and scrawls something on it, then hands it to Smith. Her hands are trembling. “Here’s my number. I promise I won’t bug you guys. Take your time, think it over. If you have questions, I’ll be around.” She eyes all three of us, one after another, like she’s memorizing our faces.
Smith stands up and looks down at her. Emotions are running wild over his face, then he hugs her quickly, hard, and pulls back. “We just…we all need a little time to adjust. But we’ll call.”
Her eyes fill with the excitement of hope. She gives a small nod. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” On small feet, she shuffles out the door.
My brothers and I are quiet for a solid minute, staring at the door. If it weren’t for the full beer mug in front of the chair where she sat, I almost wouldn’t believe that happened.
“What the fuck,” Jax says on a heavy exhale, raking his hand over his face and jaw. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
Smith drops back into his seat. We sit around the table, staring at its surface. After another long stretch of time, he pushes back from the table. “We gotta finish getting the bar ready for work.”
Jax nods, and we all three get up and set about finishing our tasks. My movements are stiff, and I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of the bomb that was just dropped on us. But the sound of her voice, the memory of her face, they’re burned into me.
I’m torn. Confused. Angry. Hurt.
I don’t know how to deal with this shit.
We open the bar as usual. Jax and Smith seem okay. Why does it seem like I’m the only one whose world has been shredded to pieces? Jax is flirting and smiling with customers as he serves beer. Even Smith is a little friendlier than usual, not his typical curt self.
But I can’t seem to muster a smile. Every minute that passes makes the knot in my chest grow bigger.
“Asher,” Jax says, stepping up beside me. “Go home. You’re scaring off the customers, and that’s saying a lot.”
Part of me wants to fight him on it—staying at work will give me something to do other than think. But I can’t stop thinking anyway. I’m just bringing everyone else around me down. “Fine.”
“Hey.” He grips my shoulder and makes me face him. “I know this is fucking crazy, but it’ll be okay. Try not to let this eat away at you. I can tell you’re furious.”
“And you’re not? She was in fucking prison, Jax. She and Dad lied to us for years. Of course I’m furious.” My chest rises and falls.
“I’m a lot of things. Angry, sad. But I’m also willing to give it a shot. She seems sincere.”
“I’m not ready for that,” I tell him, moving away. His hand drops, and he gives me a knowing look. Jax can tell exactly what I’m thinking and feeling.
“Go home,” he repeats. “Get some sleep. It’ll help.”
I dig my keys out of my pocket and push through the crowd. Get in my car. Stop at the convenience store and get a twelve-pack of the strongest beer I can find.
Then I go home.
By the time I finish my second beer, my anger has swollen to the size of a giant pulsing infection in my chest.
I thought that having a few might help the tension, but it’s only making it worse. I dump the third beer down the sink—it tastes sour and disgusting to me. But that’s what I get for buying the cheap stuff.
I keep hearing my mother’s voice in my head explaining where she was. The plea in her eyes.
She wants me to just welcome her back with open arms after all this time? Fuck that.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my angry musings. I whip it open and see Whitney standing there, knowing concern in her eyes.
Fuck. “Who told you?” I say, stepping back so she can come in.
“Brooklyn. Jax told her, and she told me, thinking I could come over and talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Whitney peers around me and sees the beer on the table. “Obviously not. You’re just going to drink until you pass out?”
“I’m not your dad,” I growl. I walk away and sit on the couch.
“I didn’t say you were,” she replies, taking a seat beside me. Her hand rests on my thigh. “God, your whole body is tight.”
“This is so fucked up,” I manage to say through a clenched jaw. Her small hand rests on my lower back, and she gives me comforting strokes.
“I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how it feels.” The gentleness in her voice takes some of the edge off my anger. Whitney didn’t have to come over. I didn’t call her. But she’s here, and she’s trying to help me feel better.
“My family is a fucking mess,” I tell her baldly. “You should run while you have the chance.”
“I can’t run,” she says. Her hand reaches up and she caresses my jaw, down my throat. The touch awakens my dormant hunger, and my cock jumps to life, pulsing against my jeans zipper.
And then she says, in a soft voice, “I want you too much.”
I grip the back of her hair and expose the column of her throat. Dig my teeth into her collarbone, then run my tongue along the flesh when she shudders and moans. “You’re under my skin, Whitney.”
“Let me help you feel better.”
“I’m fucking angry. You should probably go.”
She whispers, “I know you won’t hurt me.”
“Oh, but I want to.” I reach down and take her wrists, stare at her widening eyes. Tighten my grip on the slender bones. “I want you beneath me, and I want to take your body hot and hard. Make you mine. Leave bruises and marks all over you so everyone can see how well I fucked you.”
Her lips part, and she draws her lower one between her teeth. Her eyes are flaring with arousal, breasts heaving, nipples hardening.
“You want that, don’t you,” I say. Lust fills my veins. I tug her up from the
seat, and she comes, compliant, willing, her body trembling with her own desire. “For me to mark you as mine.”
“Yes.” The word is little more than an exhale. Her body is arching toward me, her eyelids fluttering closed.
I grip her jaw and tilt her mouth toward mine. Kiss her, bite her lip. Hard.
She gives a small jolt and says, “Oh!”
I pull back. Drop my hands from her and turn away. “Go home, Whitney. I’m not in the mood to be easy and gentle. I don’t wanna do something you’ll regret.”
“You ass,” she says, swatting at my back. It’s like a fly hitting a window, but it serves to irritate me. I slowly rotate to face her, letting her feel the full strength of my emotions. Her lips thin, and she straightens her spine, not dropping her gaze. “Stop trying to push me away. Maybe I want to try it rough. Ever think of that? This isn’t just about you. It’s about me, too.”
I narrow my eyes and step toward her. The pulse at the base of her throat flutters, and her pupils widen, but she stands her ground.
I tell her the truth. “You’re in over your head, kitten.”
“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.” The bravado in her voice is admirable, and I almost want to praise her for standing up to me.
Almost.
I grip the straps of her tank top and bra and rip them down until her breasts are bared and the straps hang on her arms. She doesn’t move, but her breathing gets rapid, and her nipples harden instantly.
“I want to fuck you,” I growl. “I don’t want to make love. I want to pound you mercilessly until you can’t walk or talk.”
She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and her eyes flutter closed. Whitney stands there, her breasts bared to me, submissively asking me to take her.
And so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Whitney
I’ve never seen Asher like this. Never vibrating with so much emotion. It reminds me of when we used two-liter bottles to make a tornado in the water.
He’s swirling with his anger.
My entire body is lit from the inside out—the moment he bit my lower lip that way, I gasped in pleasure. Shock. Need.
