Page 51 of Broken Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #7)

Elizabeth

Rainbows dance around me as I lounge in the greenhouse. Max, our golden retriever, is sleeping soundly at my feet. The only interruption is the sound of my husband crushing cars.

I don’t mind. In fact, I love hearing him work.

My fingers work quickly as I knit away, humming to the new album Jacob bought me. My goal is to make a blanket for every member of the club. A big task, but I’m loving every minute of it. I kind of feel sorry for Jacob because he got the first one. I’ve gotten much better at knitting since then. Jacob tells me the imperfections are what makes it perfect. I think he’s just being nice. The one I’m working on now is for Tank and Kelsie. It’s going to be our wedding gift for them. They’re getting married in a few months.

Anyway, we found the record I’m listening to in a little shop up north. Thrifting is one of our favorite things to do together.

We’ve been married for four weeks today. Neither of us wanted to wait to tie the knot, so we immediately went to the courthouse and made it official. I’m not sure the folks working down there appreciated a group of bikers taking over their building. It was crazy and amazing. I’d never felt so alive.

Jacob and I have had a few rough days mixed with the good, but that’s life and I’m here for all of it. One day he sat on the bed in our new guest room and stared at the wall for hours. I let him. Sometimes we just need to feel what we feel. He eventually came out, hugged me around the waist, and laid his head on my lap as I was reading.

My biggest hang up is I still have this irrational anxiety over my daughter. Jacob tells me it’s normal. That’s what mothers do. He reminds me we’re supposed to worry. The problem is, I’m not her mother. I don’t know what makes her heart soar or what fears keep her up at night.

He suggested I find her and introduce myself. She’s an adult, so I guess that could happen, but I’d never interrupt her life that way. At least that’s what I tell him. What I’m really afraid of is that she might ask about her biological father, and I don’t know how to answer that question.

Max sits, and his ears perk. He hears the bike that just pulled up.

“Who is it, buddy?” I ask, setting my knitting aside.

Brody waltzes in, knowing right where to find me. I spend most of my days here.

Max jumps off the lounge and runs to him for pets. Yeah, Max loves everyone. I don’t think he’s going to be the guard dog Jacob was hoping for, but we’ll love him just the same.

“Hey, can I borrow some flowers?”

I laugh. “How do you borrow flowers?”

“Good point. Can I have some flowers?”

“Of course.” I stand up and grab my garden shears. “Are they for someone special?” I tease.

He smiles like a schoolboy. His cheeks turn pink. “Maybe.”

“Oh, come on. I’m going to need more than that.”

He rubs his hands together excitedly. “Okay. Remember that girl I was telling you about?”

“Yeah. The right girl but the wrong time one?”

“Yep. She’s flying in to Reno. I can’t fucking believe it! She called me this morning and asked if I’d want to drive over there and have a drink.”

It warms my heart to see how happy he is. “Aw, what a nice surprise. What’s her favorite color or flower? Do you know?”

“Well, I was kind of hoping for some daisies. You have a shit ton of them in your yard.”

I laugh, because it’s true. “They’re my favorite.”

He follows me outside, and I begin cutting some daisies and a few other flowers to make a bouquet for his date. “I think I have some brown paper in the house and some ribbon.”

“Fuck yeah. You’re a lifesaver.”

Jacob shuts off his loader and starts toward us. Brody waves at him. “How’s JD been doing?”

“Good. We’re still riding the wave of being newlyweds.”

I stop what I’m doing to ogle my husband. He slaps his gloves on his leg as he approaches.

“You out here harassing my old lady?” he teases his brother. He walks over and wraps his arm around my waist, kissing me on the cheek.

“He’s here for flowers,” I tell him, wagging my eyebrows. “He has a date.”

Brody’s face turns red. “Well, I don’t know if it’s a date. We’re just having drinks.”

“Sounds like a date to me. Do I know her?” Jacob asks him.

“Naw. She’s not from around here.”

Both of the men follow me inside so I can wrap my masterpiece.

“So, is Lexie excited that Ash is coming home next week?” Jacob asks. “I’ve been kind of disappointed she hasn’t stopped by to see us.”

“Me too,” I add.

“She says she doesn’t want to see him. Little brat’s been holed up in that big fucking house all by herself for weeks.”

Brody walks over to my new cookie jar and helps himself. It’s one of my recent thrifts. It’s a nineteen fifties Humpty Dumpty. It has a chip in it, but I don’t mind. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

Jacob shakes his head. “I’ll head over there tonight. Sounds like she needs a little tough love.”

“She needs something all right,” his friend agrees.

I arrange all the flowers and then wrap them up, tying them with a bright yellow ribbon.

“You know what this town could use? A flower shop,” Brody mumbles, changing the subject as crumbs fall into his beard.

Jacob leans over the table, running the ribbon through his fingers. “Maybe Brody is on to something here. This is real pretty. You’re a pro at it.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m on to something. There isn’t anywhere in town that sells these fucking things.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“He’s got a point. Maybe you could try selling a few at Junkyard Creations,” Jacob suggests.

My phone rings. “It’s Danielle,” I tell them. I hand Brody the finished bouquet, and he gives me a thumbs up as I answer her call and back out of the room.

“Hey, girl,” I say in greeting, plopping down on the couch. Our calls usually last hours, so I settle in, wrapping myself in the blanket I made Jacob.

A man on the other end laughs.

Great, it’s Anthony. Why is he calling me?

“Oh, it’s you,” I say, throwing the blanket off me.

“It’s me,” he says, unfazed by my unenthusiasm. Anthony and I have always had a love-hate relationship.

“Is everything okay with Danielle?” I ask, hoping my friend is alright.

“She’s good. She’s up in Portland doing an art show.”

I play with the fringe on the blanket. “Oh yeah, she mentioned she had a big show coming up.”

“How’s married life?”

Something isn’t right. “Why are you calling? I know you’re not interested in how my marriage is going.”

He chuckles. “Of course I am. You’re my wife’s friend. Why wouldn’t I be interested?”

“What’s. Wrong?” I stress each word.

He laughs harder. “Ah, there’s the old Lizzie.”

“Whatever. If you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to hang up. No offense, but I have shit to do.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll cut to the chase. I, well, I should say Danielle … received a call.”

“Still screening her calls, I see.”

“That’s never going to change.”

I roll my eyes. “Continue.”

“It was from a young woman who is interested in meeting Danielle.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“She claims Mr. Baxter is her father.”

My heart instantly takes a nosedive right into the pit of my stomach, and the phone falls from my hand.

Jacob walks in and rushes over to me. “What’s wrong? You’re so pale.”

All I can do is stare at him as he places his hand over my forehead, checking my temperature. Eventually, he notices the phone on the floor. He picks it up and brings it to his ear. “Hello?”

His brows slowly pull together, his gaze bouncing over my face as he listens to Anthony.

This can’t be happening. Maybe it’s not her. Maybe Mr. Baxter had another child, but I know in my heart that’s not true.

“Why does she want to talk to Danielle?” Jacob asks him. He runs his hand through his hair. “That makes sense. Danielle was his student, and she’s an artist. I can see how she concluded she might be her mother.”

I double over and hug my stomach. I think I’m going to be sick. He sits down beside me, rubbing circles over my back.

He sighs loudly. “Yeah. I also see why you’ve come to your conclusion.”

“Oh god,” I groan. Anthony isn’t stupid. Of course he’s figured out who her mother is.

“So, you and Danielle have both agreed to speak to her?”

I hold my breath, hoping the answer on the other end is no.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think. You don’t know shit,” Jacob tells him angrily.

Fuck. The answer was definitely not no.

He’s quiet for a long moment.

“I see.” Jacob leans back on the couch, his hand falling off of me. “Yeah, I get it. Give me some time.”

When the conversation doesn’t continue, I slowly uncurl and turn to look at him. He’s no longer on the phone. I bite my lip as tears spill over my cheeks.

“He didn’t tell her about me, did he?”

Jacob shakes his head sadly. “No. But, baby, she wants to meet her biological mother.”

“I … I can’t.”

He cradles my face in his big hands. “You can. Everything you’ve ever done has been for her.”

My gaze goes to the watercolor dragonfly she painted when she was just a child. Jacob had Jackson carve the most beautiful wooden frame for it. It’s now the centerpiece of our living room.

I let out a little sob as my husband kisses my forehead.

Everything for her.