by Nikki Landis
Ghost: That’s why I check in. Doing okay?
Sparrow: I let my son go outside to play. I had to fight the urge to have him come back in.
Ghost: Understandable. That’s hard. Probably always will be.
Sparrow: Do all the women feel like this?
Ghost: Lol, yes. And they all ask the same thing. Relax. You’re safe. So is your son.
Sparrow: I’m afraid I’ll never stop feeling this way.
Ghost: You’re strong. You had the courage to leave. That means you’ve got what it takes to survive.
Sparrow: I’ll try to remember that.
Ghost: I’m here but you won’t need me. I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna be fine and so is your son.
Sparrow: I’ll take your word for it.
Ghost: Breathe. Take one day at a time. Small steps.
Sparrow: Lol. You sound like you’re trying to save an alcoholic from taking a drink.
Ghost: Maybe. Same concept though. You can do this.
Sparrow: I know. At least I hope so. Thanks.
Ghost: Text if you need a friendly ear.
Sparrow: I will.
The front door swung open as I placed the phone back on the end table. Noah ran straight to the bathroom and I heard him using the toilet. Crazy kid never emptied his bladder before he went out. Shaking my head, I gave him a big smile when he finished washing his hands and walked over to the sofa, coming up to me with that sweet look that always melted my heart.
“I love you, Mama.”
“Love you too, my Booga.”
Noah snickered and ran back outside. The door slammed shut and then he paused on the other side of the screen, pressing his cute chubby cheeks into the mesh.
“I think it’s okay for us to smile now.”
My heart suddenly attempted to leap into my throat with the knowledge that nothing escaped my son’s notice. He was only eight. Much too young to witness all that he had but despite everything, he was still full of hope.
“Yeah, we can,” I agreed as he pushed away from the screen and spun, rushing down the driveway as he began to hum the theme music to the Mandalorian.
I blinked back tears as my heart let that same hope trickle in. “One day at a time.”
“Are you Santa?”
I looked up from the work I had been doing on an old hotrod, tinkering around with the engine when a small voice caught me off guard. I nearly dropped the wrench I had in my hand as my head lifted, locking eyes with a bold kid who walked right in like he paid the damn rent. Little squeaker stood not five feet away and had entered my garage without a sound. He was stealthy as shit.
Kid’s question caught me off guard as I nearly growled my answer. “No.”
“Well, you look like Santa.” He didn’t skip a beat and ignored my tone.
“Yeah, but looks can be deceiving.”
Scrunching up his face, he considered my words and then smirked. “You’re telling a white lie.”
Huh. Interesting he phrased it that way or even knew the difference.
I picked up a rag and wiped some of the grease off my fingers after I placed the wrench in my toolbox and peered down as the kid puffed out his chest, trying to appear bigger. “Why do you say that?”
“Mama says there’s two kinds of lies. Little white ones that protect people and keep them safe. Then there’s the kind that are just mean and wrong.”
Intelligent kid.
“Why do you think I’m telling a white lie?”
“Because you’re here to check on all the boys and girls and make sure they’re being good, but you can’t really tell anyone because it might ruin the magic.”
“Shit,” I blurted, barking out a laugh. “You’re too smart for me.”
He stood taller, squaring back his shoulders. “I got all A’s on my new report card. Mama says we’re gonna buy some ice cream.” He folded his scrawny arms across his chest. “Just so you know. Santa isn’t supposed to cuss.”
This kid.
“Well, I’m just a helper and not the real Santa. I’m not quite as perfect as old Saint Nick. How old are you, son?”
He blinked up at me and his eyes narrowed. “Eight. I think you need to go back to the North Pole.”
“Why’s that?”
“You need more training.”
Fuck. Put in my place by an eight-year-old with big brown eyes and too much snark. Should have known he would say something like that.
“Your mama know where you are?”
“Sure. I told her I was huntin’ for reindeer.”
“You sure they’re out in the desert?” I asked, holding back a laugh.
“Well, yeah. Santa has to go all over the world. He can’t skip Nevada.”
Lifting a brow, I watched as he waved and began to stroll down the sidewalk, peering into yards, around the cactus, and up into the sky as he tried to find his imaginary sleigh pulled by Santa’s reindeer.
He had to belong to the new family that moved in because I’d never seen him before today. I hung around enough to know most of the neighbors. Didn’t have an issue with the neighborhood. It was safe with lots of families and children always running around. I spent a lot of time at the Crossroads and wasn’t bothered by all the noise there or at home. The neighbors didn’t mind that an old biker lived on the street since my presence meant the Royal Bastards MC protected the area.
Shaking my head, I chuckled to myself and decided it was time for a beer. I kept an extra fridge in the garage since I wasn’t running inside every time that I needed a fuckin’ drink. Popping the top, I took a long pull and leaned against one of the workbenches lining the interior wall. It was only ten a.m. on Sunday morning, and I was restless. My hand kept tapping my thigh and I knew I needed to get out of the house.
The Crossroads would be as silent as a grave this early and even if I wanted to stir up some shit just for fun nobody would be around to give me a hard time for it. Maybe I was lonely, but I’d never admit that shit to a single soul. My happiness had disappeared eighteen years prior and I wasn’t looking for a relationship to take the place of the one person in this world I had loved the most.
Swallowing hard, I avoided memories of the past. They belonged there instead of the present where I’d only be lost in the haunting ache that would consume my every breath.
Savage was standing by his bowl when I entered the house.
“Not now, boy. I’ve got shit to do.”
He whined but I stayed strong. “Nope. Not giving you anything extra. I’ve got enough piles of dogshit out there to clean up.”
Savage lay his head on his paws and stared upward, not blinking as I tried to avoid those chocolate brown eyes that literally melted my cold heart.
“Not gonna work, bud.”
He made a sort of noise like he was sick of me and turned his head, his eyes closing as he took up vigil by the bowl.
“Pouting won’t help.”
The damn dog ignored me as I trudged upstairs and changed clothes, slipping my cut back on before I grabbed my keys and left the house. Straddling my hog, I pulled my leather gloves on and kicked up the stand. My bike roared to life in the garage and I glided down the driveway, pulling smoothly onto the road.
The presence of my Reaper rose to the surface and I let him join in the exhilaration of the open road. The restlessness of the day had kept us both feeling on edge but now it was lost to the wind and the fresh air, followed by miles and miles of empty highway.
My Reaper wasn’t quite as impatient as those of my younger club brothers. He seemed to fit my laidback style of approaching life. We didn’t have quick tempers and we didn’t have a constant need to fuck, punch, or kill. Not that those weren’t present, I just wasn’t impulsive or anxious about any of them.
I fucked when I wanted pussy. Drank when I desired liquor. When the need to be outdoors called out like today, I rode my Harley as far as I wanted to go. I didn’t answer to a single soul on this earth and that was the way I preferred it. Even Gr
im understood that I came and went how I wanted. We shared a bond and an understanding.
I’d been close to our previous pres Keys and Grim’s old man Raptor. Both of my brothers had loved Grim and he’d been primed to take position as pres when he was only twenty. I didn’t mind since I was never destined to lead the club. Fate ensured we each served the Tonopah chapter in our own way. The Devil’s Ride made the choice for every man who patched in.
I didn’t need a specific title to be happy or secure.
Highway 95 was barren as I rode to Hawthorne, enjoying the sunshine and crisp bite of the breeze. At some point I pulled over and had a smoke before returning back to Tonopah. By the time I was nearly home, it dawned on me that I never gave Snooki my grocery order.
I paid that little redhead a hundred dollars every week to pick up and drop off my groceries. I fuckin’ hated shopping. Pissed me off when I had to wait around on other people. No one ever knew what they were doing, and I was usually a man on a mission, grabbing what I needed before I got the fuck out. Snooki took pity on me the last time I blew up to Grim about the line and she offered to go for me if I gave her the info each weekend.
This was the first time I forgot in months. Sighing, I decided to stop and grab a few essentials and send her a list for the rest. I parked my Harley across two spaces toward the back of the lot and hoped no one was dumb enough to hit or scratch my bike. Once inside the store, I realized Sunday was a stupid day to go. Every motherfucker in Nevada was here.
Grumpy as fuck, I snatched the last basket from the ground and stomped toward the dairy aisle. I wanted sandwiches and I only picked up certain cheese slices and deli meat. Yeah, I was a picky old man. Didn’t care. Every aisle was packed, and I had to stand off to the side and wait for people to move the fuck out of my way. You’d think a big biker with a beard, taller than most people wearing a leather vest with the Royal Bastards MC on the patch would get a little respect.
Nope. They scurried to the side when I was walking by them, but most people didn’t move out of my way unless I growled. Not ashamed to admit I’d done it often. Fuck being polite. They didn’t want me losing my shit.
I had a full basket when I turned to go down the last aisle I needed. Alcohol. I planned to grab a case of beer since my fridge was quickly growing empty. When I turned the corner, a little brunette with a long piece of paper in her hand smacked right into my chest. She was looking down instead of paying attention to where she was going. I had the choice of watching her fall backward as she bounced off my chest or drop the basket from my hand and hope nothing broke.
I chose the basket. It landed with a thud as I reached out and snatched her around the waist.
My Reaper rushed forward, and I had to shove him back, caught off guard by the strong and intoxicating pull I felt for the female in my arms. It wasn’t just the fact that she was pretty. Her bright hazel eyes had flecks of gold and green that mesmerized. They held a depth of pain I didn’t often see in others. I couldn’t describe the rest of her features because I was hypnotized by her gaze and the way her curves fit against my body like they were meant to be there. It was the way her spirit flickered like my own, shadowed and tainted by loss that snagged my attention.
Startled, she blinked and then shoved at my chest, stumbling backward. Heat blossomed on her chest above the edge of the dark blue shirt she wore and quickly covered her throat, rising up and spreading into her cheeks. That pink flush did something wicked to my body. I was instantly hard as I wondered if she blushed like that when she was coming. My Reaper wanted to pick her up caveman style and bring her straight home, plunging his tongue into her core to taste the sweetness we could both tell would be addicting and sexy as fuck.
“Excuse me,” she announced, her eyes widening when she lifted her head. “I should have been paying more attention.”
Before I could reply, she spun on her heel and walked fast in the opposite direction as if she couldn’t get far enough away. My Reaper snarled and I sighed aloud, both disappointed and slightly pissed that I was obviously judged by my appearance. Picking up my basket, I headed for the self-checkout. Some shit just wasn’t going to change, and I had to accept that my tattoos, leather, and association with the Royal Bastards were intimidating.
Even so, I felt a twinge of regret that I didn’t get a chance to learn her name.
My hand shook as I loaded the groceries into the back of my Rav4 and closed the hatch.
I used the last gift card today and filled the cart so that I’d have plenty in the freezer to feed Noah until my next paycheck. I’d only been working for a few weeks now and was looking forward to next Friday when I’d get my first eighty hours of straight pay.
Over the last couple of months Noah and I had gotten into a routine. He went to school and I worked. I chose shifts that kept me home with him at night and on the weekends. I didn’t have a babysitter or anyone that I trusted to watch my son in my absence. The only way I felt comfortable leaving him was when I knew he was safe at school.
Noah was adjusting well to third grade in Tonopah. He was making friends and played with the kids on our street until well after six every night. I’d get home and start dinner minutes before he got off the bus. We would talk about his day and then he would take a bath, cuddled next to my side until it was time for bed. I was proud of my son and thankful his nightmares seemed to be decreasing in frequency. The thumb sucking had almost disappeared too, replaced with a plush baby Yoda in his arms.
Despite the positive changes in Noah, I still kept doubting I’d made the right choice. I knew leaving Chet was the smartest thing I’d ever done but moving so far away and starting over was more stress and anxiety than I expected. At work, I tried to make new friends but all of the questions and curiosity about our arrival in Tonopah were too much. I didn’t have a good story to tell and making up lies grew complicated. The dentist office was mostly busy and thankfully I had too much work to do filing charts and answering calls as a receptionist to engage in a lot of conversation.
As a result, I was feeling low and trying to hide it. I thought I’d done a good job until I heard Noah’s voice one evening after he’d gone to bed. I was on the couch, crying into my mug of hot tea and feeling sorry for myself.
“Mama? What’s the matter?”
Dropping the mug on the table, I swiped under my eyes and caught him standing in the doorway of his room as he clutched his toy to his chest. The look of concern on his face made my heart nearly stutter.
“Nothing, Booga,” I assured him. “I’m alright. I promise.”
“But you were cryin’.”
“I was feeling a bit sad but I’m much better now that I know you’re watching out for me.”
Noah puffed out his chest with pride. “That’s my job. I’m the man of the house.”
“You sure are. I’m so happy I have you.”
He beamed a bright smile and then yawned. “I’ll always have you just like you always have me.”
“That’s right.” I placed a kiss on top of his head and then shooed him back into bed. “You’ve got school in the morning. Time to get some sleep.”
“Night, Mama.”
“Goodnight. Love you.” I pulled his door nearly shut but left it a few inches from closing the way he preferred. A green glow could be seen from the Mandalorian nightlight in his room.
The rest of the evening I tidied the house and then finally went upstairs for a hot bath. That was when I decided that I needed to let the past go because I didn’t want Noah to find me in tears again anytime soon. I knew it upset him and he didn’t need to worry about me on top of everything else.
When Sunday rolled around, I realized I’d forgotten a few things at the store and made a list, heading outside to find Noah. He was jumping on the trampoline next door with two little boys about the same age. I paused at the gate to the backyard and waved.
“I need to go to the store.”
Noah slid off the trampoline and landed on his feet, runnin
g up to the fence. “Can I stay here? I really want to play with Thomas and Riley.”
My first instinct was to tell him no, but I knew it wasn’t fair. He just wanted to be a kid and I had to give him the chance even if it caused my stomach to churn with worry.
“You need to ask permission from Mr. and Mrs. Hill.”
Noah saluted – where he got that I had no idea – and then ran back to Thomas and Riley. Five minutes later I was pulling out of my driveway after Mrs. Hill (Tonya) assured me that she didn’t mind, and the boys would stay at the house until I returned. I exchanged numbers and told her to call for any reason. Nothing was too trivial when it concerned Noah.
The minute I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store I knew it was a mistake. There wasn’t an empty space anywhere near the store. I had to park in the back by a huge motorcycle with a skull and crown sparkling on the tank. The bike was all chrome and sleek ebony, and I shivered, curious what kind of man could handle a machine that massive.
There wasn’t a cart or a basket in sight when I entered the building and I had to wonder if I missed the memo on something important. Was there a nuclear fallout coming? Because the shelves were bare in many aisles or half stocked and people were snatching up items faster than I could move my way through the crowd. When one of the employees lifted their hands and said the incoming storm wasn’t going to keep them from their shipment due to arrive tomorrow and restock the shelves, people seemed a little more relaxed.
All of this over a chance of rain or snow?
Snorting with humor, I ignored the chaos and tried to find the rest of my list. As it turned out, I located what I needed and an abandoned cart. I was all the way outside before I realized I’d forgotten the ice cream I promised Noah. Sighing, I headed back inside and paused by the alcohol section, double checking the list to make sure I hadn’t missed anything else.
I rounded the corner a little too fast, my focus on the paper in my hand and not where I was walking. My body collided with a wall of solid muscle and I tumbled backward, surprised when a pair of strong arms shot out and prevented a nasty fall. Blinking, I stared up at the man who caught me and vaguely realized how he was clutching my body close against his own. He was all hard lines and thick muscle. My body decided that moment it wanted to come alive and heat up, enjoying the way I was pressed to this total stranger and extremely sexy older man.
