Heart Like Mine (Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter, #3)

by Hunter, Bijou

  “Georgia needs to be surrounded by people. Rebel does too. They’ll do better here.”

  “Yeah, well, I need a home for my family, and you only have the one guest room.”

  “Maybe you could get a house on the property.”

  My smile widens. “Aww, look at who’s going to miss me when I’m not at her beck and call.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I recall a time when a mouse was in the house, and you made me come over and catch it.”

  “It was like watching an elephant trying to be stealth while really just banging into shit.”

  “Well, I’ll miss you too, but Rebel needs his own room, and I need to be able to bang my woman without the kid hearing.”

  “It’s always about your dick,” she grumbles, but I’m not buying she’s horrified. She and Phoebe sneak off alone all the time. I doubt the twins ever take a nap without their moms getting lucky.

  “What if,” she says, sitting down at the dinette, “you tried to make this living situation work for a while longer? Like, schedule your sex for before bed when Rebel can be shielded from your perverted needs.” We share a grin at her wording. “Then maybe, you could buy part of my land and build a house.”

  “Why?” I ask, suspicious now.

  “Georgia needs to be around people. You do too, dipshit. You’re not a loner. If you had a house next door, it would let us all be together. Rebel and the girls with school every day. Georgia would have someone to help with the baby when you’re working.”

  “Building a house is a lot of fucking work. Remodeling yours took half a year.”

  “True, but I really like you living right here. And I’ve grown fond of Georgia and Rebel.” Scarlet pauses to take a deep breath. I notice worry in her blue eyes as she continues, “Yesterday gutted me. She didn’t even think to reach out to anyone for support. She’s so used to being alone, but she isn’t anymore. We’re her family, and I think you and her and Rebel and the baby would be happier as part of a group.”

  “Well, living in the RV isn’t an option.”

  “Dingus, your RV is bigger than some people’s fucking houses, so stop being a diva,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, we have space in the house. The girls’ bunk beds that Butch built have an extra spot for friends. Rebel can sleep there, or he can sleep in the basement or we can get him an extra bed somewhere else. We can make it work short term. Georgia and you could be in the guest room.”

  Scarlet blows hair from her eyes and frowns at me. “They were alone for a long time, and I want them to know that’s not how they have to live anymore. You come with family and friends who will love and protect them.”

  “Seeing Georgia like that really messed with you, huh?”

  Scarlet isn’t an emotional woman. Well, anger is an emotion, but she doesn’t tend to get teary-eyed. I notice her fighting a little moisture in the ocular region when she remembers Georgia’s reaction to thinking the baby died. I’m sure hearing about the lost baby awoke a new layer of protectiveness in my sister too.

  “You’re such a kindhearted twat,” I say, pulling her to her feet and forcing a hug. “Think of my body odor as a thank-you gift.”

  “Dick,” she grumbles, trying to push me off.

  Hugging her tighter, I murmur, “You’re as sweet and emotional as even the most fragile elderly woman.”

  “You’ve already created life, so you don’t need both balls,” she threatens before finally pinching me hard enough to force me to set her loose. “Great, now I stink of man.”

  “Go have your wife help you wash that off.”

  Scarlet considers Phoebe’s assistance and nods approvingly. “So, will you consider staying?”

  “Sure. I mean, it’s up to Georgia too, but you’re probably right about her being happier around family than alone. And I can’t be at her side constantly.”

  “After a winter stuck with you, she’ll need the break.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m going to do to keep busy during the cold season,” I mutter, kicking off my boots. “There are no big projects to work on. No repairs that’ll take more than a day or two. Nothing even club-related to handle. It’s quiet and organized as fuck.”

  “Well, you might have Milkweed people to kill,” she says, opening the door to flee before I strip naked in front of her. “So, there’s that.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur and smile. “There’s definitely that.”

  Scarlet leaves me to shower. I think about her idea, and there are definitely pros to building a second house on the farm. Mom lives half a mile away. We’re isolated enough to provide privacy but close enough to town so Georgia can visit her new friends or shop.

  And I’ve always liked living out here. Scarlet and Phoebe are cool to chill with, and I dig being around my nieces and nephews. This feels like home, but a lot of it comes down to what Georgia thinks. It’s just as possible that she’ll want a place with more privacy.

  Of course, will she even admit that’s what she wants if she thinks I want to stay?

  THE CHAPTER WHERE THE DOORMAT HOLDS HER OWN

  THE DOORMAT

  Jack is a better man than I ever could have dreamed up for myself, and I love him completely. With that said, the man’s one flaw is that he’s royally spoiled.

  Not with money. He’s actually smart about when to splurge and when to be thrifty.

  His heart is spoiled, though. His parents love him unconditionally. I know his pop is currently acting like a jerk, but Phoebe said she thinks Tucker is going through a midlife crisis. Meaning even the people he treats the worst assume his behavior is temporary.

  Jack has a great mom and pop. He’s tight with his sister. He has harmless rivalries with his cousins. He never had to worry about anyone screwing him over or pretending to care just to con him. His family loves clean.

  The Hegseth family does everyone dirty. Jack thinks he understands that, but he doesn’t really.

  After all, he actually believes I shouldn’t go with Rebel to meet Marsha.

  “I’ll be there to keep him safe,” Jack promises.

  I have no doubt that physically Rebel won’t be in danger. Sean is a scary guy, but I’ve gotten around to accepting how Jack is too.

  But Marsha is sneaky, and Rebel is a child. Believing he won’t fall for her tricks just because he “knows better” is naive. Of course, Jack’s grandma would never pretend to care just to gain information from him. His grandma wouldn’t tempt him with gifts and praise to lower his guard.

  No, I’ve met Gram Jodi Johansson. When the family claims she’s sneaky, it’s because she pulls the old lady routine to get out of work or a speeding ticket. When Marsha gets sneaky, she’s hoping to force Rebel back to a town where he’ll be punished. The Hegseth family will use that sweet, hopeful little boy to force me into returning too.

  Without a doubt, they’ll kill my unborn son. They didn’t shed a tear when Patrick’s baby died. Why would they care about Jack’s? And they’d do it while knowing Rebel would forever blame himself for falling for their tricks.

  But Jack thinks he can protect Rebel and I should stay hidden. Well, hell no to that!

  Hiding is a sign of weakness, and I’m no longer weak. Not that I’m particularly strong, but I have people who care about me. I refuse to hide back at the farm while Marsha wraps her grimy hands around my boy’s heart.

  “This is a mistake,” Jack says for the tenth time since we woke up.

  “Why are you so worried? You’ll be right there. Besides, you should like how I’m rubbing my happiness in their faces.”

  Jack does approve of that idea, but he still frowns a lot while we prepare to meet Marsha for lunch.

  “Ready?” I ask Rebel sitting in the backseat of Scarlet’s SUV as she drives and Jack frowns.

  My boy is afraid, but he wants to see his grandma. I know he misses her. When I was little, I tended to romanticize my mom and remember all the good stuff. It’s easier to be happy if you pretend the bad stuff wa
sn’t such a big deal or it didn’t happen that often.

  I understand why Rebel can’t blow off Marsha yet. Jack doesn’t get it, of course. He thinks he’s tough with his pop, but I see how much he misses him. The heart sometimes craves what makes us miserable.

  “You can talk to Marsha about your friends, but try not to use their names. It’s okay if you do, but try not to.”

  Rebel relaxes when I start giving him a list of rules. The repetition kept us safe for a long time, and he immediately feels empowered by returning to that way of thinking.

  “Marsha will ask a lot of questions. She’ll want to know if people are treating you right. Are you being fed? Do you go to school? It’s okay not to answer anything that makes you nervous. You don’t have to say anything at all. You are in control.”

  Pulling at his Iron Man shirt, Rebel nods and exhales loudly. He’s psyching himself up.

  “She’ll cry. That’s okay. People cry. You don’t have to feel guilty. She cried even when you were in Milkweed. Her tears aren’t about you. Just feel sad for her, but don’t feel guilty, okay?”

  “What if she wants to know about you?”

  “I’ll be right there. If she doesn’t want to ask me, then why should you answer?”

  “Right.”

  “Talk about school and your friends.”

  “But not the goats, right?” Rebel asks. “The goats might help them find the farm.”

  “That’s smart,” I say, having not considered it. “Right now, they don’t know where you live. They don’t know about Jack and me.”

  “What if I mess up?” he asks.

  Before I can answer, Jack does, “Don’t sweat it. Eventually, they’ll know about everything. If they find out a thing or two on accident now, it’s not a big fucking deal.”

  Rebel nods. “Yeah, they’re going to find out, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I say, not entirely sure why they’ll find out eventually. Jack hasn’t spelled out anything, but I suspect he means Patrick will use the law to find out when he’s released. Or maybe it’s something else. Honestly, I don’t want to know the details right now.

  “One last thing,” I say as we pull into the Dairy Queen parking lot, “she might get angry at you. Even if you promise to see her again or say you’ll talk to her online, she might still try to make you feel guilty. Like you should be telling me to go back to Milkweed.”

  “But I’m a kid, and I can’t make you do anything,” he says, and I smile.

  “Exactly. They want to mess with your head over stuff you can’t control. She did it to your dad, and that’s why he’s mean. I bet someone messed with her head when she was little, and that’s why she’s mean. We’re not like them. We won’t let them mess with us anymore.”

  Rebel smiles, and I love the look of confidence in his eyes. So many times, I worried I wasn’t smart or tough enough to be a good mom. But I must have done something right because my boy looks like a little badass strutting into the Dairy Queen.

  Jack claimed earlier that Marsha would show up early. He was right. We’re two minutes past twelve, and she’s already there. Sean and Ainsley sit at another table. I spot a townie named Richard nearby.

  Jack and Scarlet stay together, and I think maybe they’re pretending to be a couple. I guess to distract from which of the men might be my baby’s father. Bubba and Butch walk in with us. Dickie and Ron are already inside. I spotted Jace in the parking lot.

  This tiny Dairy Queen has probably never been so full.

  “My Rebel,” Marsha says when she sees him.

  I let my son take the lead. He goes to her, and they share a long hug. I know Sean and Ainsley are glaring at me. It’s stupid, but their anger makes me smile. Also, the memory of Ainsley pissing herself keeps flashing in my head.

  Behind me, Scarlet snickers about something. I glance back to see her fighting laughter. Jack struggles to remain stony-faced. Without a doubt, they’re talking about Ainsley.

  “You’re so skinny,” Marsha says, having Rebel sit next to her rather than on the other side of the booth.

  If I wasn’t surrounded by armed men and Scarlet, I’d worry about Marsha pulling a weapon on Rebel and forcing her way out of the restaurant. It seems silly, but there are few boundaries the people of Milkweed won’t cross if it means protecting “what’s theirs.”

  Rebel orders food that Sean buys. Soon, my boy eats while Marsha pets him like a dog, and almost a dozen people stare on.

  “Mom, come try this,” he says, clearly overwhelmed.

  I sit down on the other side of the booth and try his burger. Making approving noises, I hold his gaze until he finally settles down.

  Marsha asks Rebel questions about his school and friends. She’s so clearly fishing. Normally, Marsha is much smoother in her cunning, but I don’t think they expected so many people to show up.

  Bullying me probably seemed easy. Tricking Rebel would be effortless. They might have even figured they could force us to leave with them. Now they’re surrounded by strangers in a town with a power structure much like Milkweed’s.

  “Do you have any pets?” Marsha asks Rebel.

  “No. People I know have animals. My friend has a boy cat. My other friends have dogs.”

  I glance at Sean. He’s eyeballing the men in the restaurant. I heard he lost his temper at the meeting when Bailey messed with him. I would have loved to have seen that. Bailey isn’t here to toy with him, so he focuses his cold blue eyes on me.

  I don’t flinch or look away. I think about all the times he yelled at me. And when he slapped me for trying to show up Ainsley. And the dozens of times he just pretended I wasn’t even in the room. On Thanksgiving, he gave a toast where he named off everyone at the table and skipped over me. Back then, he had the power, and I bowed to survive.

  If he attacks right now, I’ll still be too weak to fight him. But I’m not alone. I think that’s why I smile.

  “Is this what you wanted?” Marsha mutters at the sight of my expression. “To tear apart our family.”

  Without missing a beat, I say, “I wanted my son to grow up safe and loved. I didn’t want him to fear the people around him. I have that now. If your family is destroyed in the process, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

  “Bitch,” Ainsley hisses.

  If Rebel weren’t in the crossfire, I can imagine things would go very differently. No one moves, though. Scarlet doesn’t even offer Ainsley the adult diaper that I know she has stashed in her purse. Everyone behaves to keep from freaking out my son.

  “Mom and me love Conroe,” he tells Marsha.

  There’s something in his eyes right now that reminds me so much of Patrick. He isn’t brokenhearted over missing his grandmother. He’s thinking off all the times she did him wrong. I see years of built-up resentment flash in his blue eyes. If he stayed in Milkweed, that list of grievances would have gotten so long that he’d end up like his dad whether he wanted to or not. When anger is all you have, you need to keep it fed even if that means imagining snubs.

  Likely seeing the same thing in her grandson’s eyes, Marsha realizes anger won’t get her what she wants. So, of course, she starts crying. This tactic works on Patrick. She figures it will with Rebel too. Besides, her tears allow Sean to play the victim.

  “Look at what you did,” he hisses at me.

  “If she returns for another visit, I’ll be sure to bring a box of tissues.”

  The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  “Fuck yeah,” Ron says way too loud. The other men shoot him “shut up” looks, but he waves off their concern. “Fuck these out-of-town fuckers and their wannabe shit.”

  I gesture for Rebel to join me, and he quickly slides under the table and onto my side. Tugging his food to his new position, I hold Marsha’s gaze.

  Back when I was pregnant with Rebel, she showed me kindness. Only because she wanted me to keep him. Once Rebel was born, she barely tolerated me and mostl
y ignored me. I knew by then how her affections weren’t real, so I preferred hiding in the shadows.

  But then I lost the baby. I’d lost pregnancies before, but this one felt real to everyone. We talked about names. She told people about her unborn grandson. He had value.

  When he died, Patrick refused to take the blame. Marsha let him pretend he was innocent. Nothing’s ever his fault because if he’s a failure, then she’s a failure. I remember one day when I was so out of control, and I screamed that he killed our baby. Marsha looked at me in the calmest way.

  “If you cared so much about that baby, you wouldn’t have made Patrick so angry. Seems like you were looking for trouble.”

  As Sean bitches at Ron, whose only rebuttal is to say, “Fuck off,” I stare into Marsha’s eyes and refuse to look away.

  “If you had been better to me, none of this would be happening. Patrick left you in charge,” I whisper. “Whatever happens in the future is on you.”

  I’m full of shit. This woman has no more control over Patrick than I do. Well, she can cry and get him to behave short term, but he’s not above blaming her for every mistake in his life. Deep down, he hates her more than he’ll ever hate me.

  But Patrick is doomed. I don’t know what Jack plans, but there is no way he’ll let Rebel leave with the Hegseth family. Seeing how they are today, I’m positive they’ll never walk away. Sooner or later, Patrick will show up here with a gun and force everyone’s hand.

  Jack knows it too, and he protects his family.

  Patrick’s future is sealed. But Marsha will live on with one dead son or maybe two. Again, that’s for Jack to decide. I want Marsha to always wonder if she could have saved her son from his fate. Just like I’ll always wonder if I could have saved mine.

  I hope this thought haunts her until the day she dies.

  THE HOTHEAD

  Georgia shouldn’t be in the same room with these people. Rebel either. I think the scare with the baby has made me paranoid, but I can’t stand her within arm’s length of the Hegseth fucks.

  Keeping my temper in check, I stand very still through lunch. Marsha is a thin woman with harsh cheekbones and a fake smile. A few booths away sits Sean and his plastic wife.