by M. Robinson
“I’m Creed’s,” I simply stated, for I don’t know who in particular.
“We’ll see.” With that, he pushed away from the counter, backing up. Never taking his eyes off me until he had to, leaving me with nothing but unease.
I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. Thinking about what the meaning of his last words could have meant. They lingered all night, along with the feeling he stirred inside of me. I guess it would be normal to have some feelings for the father of my child, but it wasn’t only that.
I admired Noah.
I liked having him around. I enjoyed talking to him, even though it was always a one-sided conversation. He never answered any of my questions about his life, only wanting to know about mine. He listened when I spoke, and not in that I have to be polite kind of way. He really wanted to know as much as he could about me.
At first, I thought he felt obligated since I was the mother of his baby, but tonight proved to be something else entirely. I mean, I allowed him to touch my belly all the time. It wasn’t anything new. He would do it every chance he got, saying he was talking to his baby girl. Forming a bond before she came into the world. She even started responding to the sound of his voice by kicking or moving around when he spoke. I didn’t think anything of it at first. He was the father. Her father. Touching her, not me. At least that was the way I saw it, though now I wasn’t so sure.
Whatever it was, I needed to put a stop to it. At the end of the day, I loved Creed. I’d always loved Creed.
He had my heart.
I woke up the next morning by myself in a haze from the lack of sleep. Reaching over, feeling the cold sheets beside me. Wanting nothing more than Creed’s arms holding me close. The warmth he radiated, to cover me like a blanket, barricading me with his love. I laid there staring at the speckled ceiling, coming to the decision to not tell him about what happened between Noah and me, the night before. It was pointless. It wouldn’t do any good, and the last thing I wanted was to come between two brothers.
I needed to clear the air with Noah. Make it known that we were just friends. Close friends. And that we had a baby girl to raise together, that was it. Last night couldn’t happen again. I thought about it all morning, going about my normal rituals—eating breakfast, lounging on the couch, reading a book, getting lost in a captivating story, while I waited for Noah to wake up. It was well into the afternoon by the time he finally came out of his room. Part of me thought he might have been avoiding me. Although, I hoped it was just from him being too hungover and needing to sleep a good part of the day away.
He froze in the doorway when he saw me sprawled out on the couch, glancing up from my book. Trying to keep his emotions in check as he stood there in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, hanging low on his hips. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, his body already covered in tattoos, much like his brother’s. He started rubbing the back of his head like he was lost in thought, peering all over the room looking for answers. A few awkward seconds passed by before he finally made his way over to me, still not uttering a word.
I threw my book on the coffee table, turning to sit sideways to look at him, tucking my legs underneath me as he took a seat beside me.
“Mia, I-I-I...” he stammered, figuring out what to say first. Struggling to gather his thoughts. He shook his head, locking eyes with me, sighing, “I was drunk. I know that’s no fuckin’ excuse, but it’s all I got.”
“I know.”
“No you don’t. Not even fuckin’ close.”
“Rebel, you can’t—”
“I know what it’s like growin’ up in a broken home. I know violence, and I know blood. That’s it,” he said out of nowhere, pausing to allow his words to sink in. “Never met anyone like you. I was drawn to you the second your pretty face walked into the clubhouse that night. Stickin’ out like a sore fuckin’ thumb. You didn’t belong there. Not in that life. I knew it wouldn’t take long for one of the brothers to come at you, you’re fuckin’ beautiful. The club whores I grew up around, don’t hold a fuckin’ flame to you. I couldn’t ask for a better girl to be carryin’ my kid. I don’t regret that night, cuz you’re the one fuckin’ thing I’ve ever done right.”
I took a deep breath, overwhelmed by his confession.
“Can’t believe that’s a surprise to you. You’re fuckin’ perfect, Mia. The more I’m around you, the more I want to be around you. Don’t give a fuck if this makes me sound like a pussy, cuz you’re worth it.”
“Jesus, Noah.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in. Been keepin’ that shit bottled up for so fuckin’ long. You needed to hear it, and I needed to fuckin’ say it to you.”
“Broken home?” I found myself asking. Thinking back on what Diane had told me the day before.
He shook his head, huffing out, “You don’t know a damn thing about Creed, do you? Cuz if you did, you’d know how we grew up.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No shit. Life ain’t fair. If it were, you’d be mine right now. Not with Creed. He knows nothin’ about you. You’re just playin’ fuckin’ house.”
“Rebel, I’m your brother’s girl. End of story. I don’t want to come between the two of you. But to be fair, you don’t tell me anything about your life, either. So if you’re going to throw damn stones, it’s best not to live in a glass house,” I sincerely spoke, causing his expression to harden right before my eyes. “Creed loves me.”
“You’d be hard to not love, pretty girl.” He leaned over, placing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
I jerked back, moving away from him. “You can’t say shit like that to me. It’s not right.”
“Right for who? Creed? He ain’t here now, is he? I am. Sittin’ in front of you. Tellin’ you I want you on the back of my fuckin’ bike. I had you first, Mia, and I know you may not love me, but you sure as fuck have feelings for me. Try to deny it, I fuckin’ dare you.”
I sighed, dumbfounded by the turn of events. I would be lying if I said I didn’t care about Noah. I did, very much so. He was the father of my unborn baby, how could I not. “Rebel, I know you’re going to be an amazing daddy, and I can’t tell you how grateful and lucky I am that you want to do right by her, but—”
“I wanna do right by you, too.”
“Then back off,” I let out harshly. My emotions started to get the best of me.
“What if I don’t? Huh? What are you gonna do? I’m the father of your child. We made a baby, I ain't goin’ anywhere. I owe it to our girl to fight for her momma, and not even you can fuckin’ stop me.”
I tried to remain calm, remembering the Jameson men were as stubborn as mules. “Listen, okay? I care about you a lot. I will admit that. And maybe in a way, I do have feelings for you, but it’s nowhere near what I feel for Creed. Do you understand that? Maybe in another life or another time, it would have been different, but in this life, in this time... I’m your brother's. And I’m not going to apologize for that.” The air grew so thick between us. I was surprised I could still see him through the dense fog filling the small space. I didn’t want to hurt him. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I reached over and grabbed his hand, placing it on my belly. “We’re both in this for the long run.” Gesturing toward my stomach. “No one is ever going to take that away from you. You’re her father. Always and forever. I’ll never keep her from you. I promise you that. I give you my word.”
As if on cue, baby girl kicked, making Noah and me laugh. I was glad she chose that moment to break up the tension that filled the entire room. There were no more words to be had after that, when there were probably hundreds that should have been spoken. We spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies on the couch, laughing and eating popcorn, but my thoughts never drifted far from Creed. And as much as I wanted to pretend that this was the end of our compromising situation. I knew Noah’s mind never drifted far from...
Me.
I took one last drag of my cigarette, stubbing it out on the
side of the safe house, flicking it out to the front yard. Mia told me some shit about always making sure I put out my cigs before throwing them into the woods. Rambling on about needing to prevent forest fires. A fucking bear named Smokey taught her that in school when she was younger. I looked at her like she was fucking crazy, reminding her that bears didn’t talk.
I don’t know where she came up with half the shit that left her mouth, but I loved her nonetheless. I chuckled to myself, remembering the morning I was teasing her about sleeping on me instead of on the bed. She responded with some more shit about us being fucking lobsters. Mating for life. Trying to convince me that was how they slept. Saying her Aunt Lily had been telling her that story all her life, and that she needed to find her own lobster one day.
So, I guess I was her fucking lobster. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.
I nodded over at the two brothers who were standing guard outside, before opening the front door to the safe house.
“Hey!” Mia called out from the couch when she saw me walking in. “You actually came back during daylight. This is new. I was beginning to think you were only nocturnal.” She smiled, walking over to where I stood. Rising up on the tips of her toes to kiss me. “I like it.”
“I fuckin’ missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
I hadn’t seen her in a few days, too many for my liking.
It had been well over a month and a half since she’d gone missing. Nothing had changed back at the clubhouse, same ol’ shit different day. We continued to run in circles, heading down the same road to nowhere. Watching over our shoulders everywhere we went, just waiting for more bullshit to occur.
I kept thinking about the cryptic text message Martinez had sent me the day he died. But to be honest, I was so consumed with the situation at hand that I had no time to actually put any effort into it. As soon as I knew Mia was out of harm’s way, you best believe I’d be getting to the fucking bottom of it. There was a reason he sent me that compromising photo of my ma. I just needed to take some time and look at the disc he gave me. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to fucking like what I saw.
Mia’s parents’ still held onto the hope that their baby girl would be found, safe and sound. Organizing search parties, holding town meetings, and spreading missing person signs up all over the nearby counties.
I hated walking into the convenience stores, seeing Mia’s face plastered all over the registers. Only reminding me she didn’t deserve this. Detective McGraw was more relentless than ever, still sticking his nose where it didn’t fucking belong. If it wasn’t for Mia considering him as family, I would have put him to ground already. He was a cocky son of a bitch who rubbed me the wrong way one too many times. The more time I spent at the clubhouse, the more I realized this was no fucking place for Mia to be hanging out.
Especially with a baby girl.
The club’s normal activities were worse now than ever. The boys were getting restless, their minds focused solely on figuring out what the hell was going on and who wanted our fucking turf. Club whores, drugs, and booze were the only way we’d ever blown off steam. I never stayed more than I had to anymore. Foregoing the festivities. Taking care of club business and coming back to Mia was the only thing on my mind these days.
“I’m fuckin’ filthy. Need a shower, babe. Don’t get too close.”
“I don’t care. I’ll take you any way I can, Creed Jameson. I’ll even join you in the shower.”
“Is that right? You like it when I make you nice and dirty, Mia Savannah Ryder?”
She gave me a questioning look. “How did you know my midd—”
I kissed her, throwing my backpack to the ground, picking her up by her ass so she could straddle my waist. “Pippin, how you smell so fuckin’ good all the time?” She giggled in that cute-as-shit sort of way when I started to rub my facial hair all over her neck. I hadn’t been shaving lately, no time. “Who’s my girl?”
She melted in my arms as I carried her back to my room, spending the rest of the morning proving to her that she was. Not giving a damn about what Noah said on the porch. She was my girl, and I wanted to fuck her.
So, I did.
“I was going to do my laundry today. I don’t have any more clean clothes here,” Mia informed, coming out of the bathroom. Walking around my room with a towel wrapped around her, while I threw on a pair of clean jeans.
Foregoing a shirt.
“Grab one of my shirts from the dresser and meet me in the kitchen so you can make me a sandwich.”
“Excuse me, I didn’t hear a please in that sentence.”
I grinned, pecking her lips. “If I was gonna say please, might as well do it myself.” I spanked her ass, and she yelped. “Feed your man, he’s fuckin’ starvin’.”
“Okay.” She nodded, side stepping me. “I’ll go find him.”
I chuckled, gripping onto the back of her towel. Tugging her against my chest, I wrapped my arms around her from behind. “You mad cuz I didn’t say yeah?”
“Yeah isn’t a please,” she sassed, trying to block off my attempt to tickle her neck with my beard.
“But look at ya. Already barefoot and pregnant, just how I want you. Now make me a fuckin’ sandwich, yeah?”
“You’re such a barbarian!” she laughed, swatting me away. Her weak efforts to get free were no match for me.
I spanked her ass again, letting her go. “And it’s why you fuckin’ love me.”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she walked over to my dresser. I left to go wait for my sandwich in the kitchen. It didn’t take long for her to find me sitting at the island, looking sexy as sin with my shirt on. Her perky tits showing through the white fabric that fell just above her knees. I made a mental note to have her wear my clothes more often.
“What’s this?” she asked, trying to hide her amused expression. Throwing a bunch of baby magazines on the counter, right in front of where I sat. “Found them in your drawer when I was grabbing one of your shirts.”
“Brought these back for us. Thought we could find some baby shit together.”
She smiled wide, her face beaming. “I’d love that. I’ll go make you your sandwich first.” Stepping in between my legs, she threw her arms around my neck and whispered against my lips, “I’ll even throw in some French fries and a milkshake.”
I kissed her. “Good to know ya came to your senses and realized your place, woman,” I joked.
But not really.
I swear he loved trying to get a rise out of me. Although he was right, I did love him, barbarian and all. There was something about his way with words that I found sexy. He was crude, vulgar, and said what he felt or thought, no matter what.
But he was one hell of a man.
My man.
I made him lunch, deciding to make some for myself, as well. Baby girl was starving. She had the appetite of her daddy and Creed. Most of the food would always be gone because of them, even though they weren’t around every day like I was. They reminded me a lot of Mason and Bo. Momma was constantly stocking our cabinets, yelling about them eating us out of house and home.
I set the knife down on the counter, feeling a sharp pain in my chest. My heart breaking into a million pieces at the mere thought of my family, again. I missed them so much, and each day away from them became far worse than the day before. It didn’t help that I knew they were worried sick. No parent should ever have to go through this.
I placed my hand on my belly, imagining myself in their shoes. How awful it would be to lose a child and not have any idea where they were or how to find them. How to bring them back home safely. I prayed every night that they still felt my presence, knowing I was still alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere. Hoping it would at least give them some peace when there wasn’t any to be had.
I shook off the haunting thoughts and pain in my heart, focusing on lunch. Trying to suppress the ache as best as I could. It probably didn’t help that Noah hadn’t been c
oming around as often as before, either. I knew he was trying to keep his distance from me like I requested. But I didn’t mean for him to not come around at all. It made me sad just thinking about it. I didn’t like being the cause of another person’s pain.
“Pippin, why don’t ya tell me some of your favorite things so I can try to bring ‘em back for you,” Creed remarked, pulling me away from yet another plaguing thought.
I spun around, glancing back at him from the stove. He was looking down at one of the baby magazines, flipping the pages with a marker in his hand.
“What?” I questioned, caught off guard by what he was doing.
“You heard me,” he simply stated, flipping another page.
“What kind of things?”
“Just some of your favorite shit.” He shrugged, still not looking up at me, marking something down on one of the pages in the magazine.
What was he doing? “Like what? Give me some direction.”
“Favorite books, movies, food, lotion for your belly—shit like that. Anythin’ to make the time go by faster for you and baby girl. Know you been gettin’ restless and don’t fuckin’ blame ya.”
“Lotion for my belly? How do you know about pregnant women putting lotion on their bellies?”
“Read it in one of these magazines.”
“You read that tidbit right now?”
“Ain’t got all fuckin’ day, Pippin, out with it,” he asserted in a neutral tone, ignoring my question.
“Okay...” I grabbed our food off the counter, setting his plate in front of him. He didn’t waste any time, picking up his sandwich and taking a huge bite. His eyes never wavered from the pages of the magazine.
I finished preparing our milkshakes, deciding to stay standing on the other side of the island to eat. So I could nonchalantly get a better look at what he was doing. “My favorite books are anything in the romance genre, pretty much, especially historical romances. I guess you could say I love the old-school heroes who were in charge of everything. Alpha male types who were dominant and demanding. Kind of assholes with hearts of gold, which is all that matters.”
