Page 8 of Kingpin (Blackjacks MC #1)

Chapter six

Hattie

I bundled my new niece into my arms, utterly spellbound by her tiny pink fists, button nose, and wispy blonde curls. Emma Rose Matthews was perfect in every way.

“She’s the spitting image of you,” I whispered, glancing at my sister.

Connie managed a contented yet exhausted smile. Nathan sat at her bedside, holding her hand as he smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. Wylie was curled up asleep in Nathan’s lap, his head resting on Nathan’s shoulder.

“Sorry about messing up your flight plans,” Connie said in a tired voice.

I shook my head, brushing my knuckles against Emma’s silky soft cheek.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. It’s a good thing you like my cooking because you couldn't pry me out of your house with a crowbar right now."

Deep down, it pained me to think about returning to Seattle. I hated that I wasn’t here for so many of Wylie’s milestones— his first words, learning to walk, his first day at preschool. And I wouldn’t be here for many of Emma’s milestones as well.

I cradled the back of her downy head in my palm as she yawned, forming a small O with her mouth. My vision turned misty and my chest grew so tight that it was hard to breathe.

I didn’t have my own kids. I didn’t get to be a mother. I tried my best to be a good aunt, but that was slipping through my fingers too since I didn’t visit as often as I should.

Emma squirmed and started to fuss.

“She’s probably getting hungry,” Connie said.

Nathan helped her to sit up, tucking an extra pillow behind her back for support. Reluctantly, I surrendered Emma back to her mother, aching at the loss of her gentle body heat in my arms.

When I stepped back, it dawned on me what a private family moment this was—husband and wife, welcoming their new baby girl, with their son held close, safe and secure. I slipped out of the room, giving them privacy.

As I navigated the labyrinth of hospital corridors in search of the lobby, my phone rang from the depths of my purse. I fished it out, expecting Connie’s name, calling me for something she needed.

Instead, Neil's number flashed on my screen. Damn it.

I really didn't feel like talking to him.

All I wanted to do was sit in a corner and process the bittersweet tug-of-war in my chest—the birth of my niece, the ache of longing to have my own baby that I would never satisfy, and the desire to stay here, close to home, where I could watch my niece and nephew grow up.

The phone kept ringing. Standing there in the hospital hallway, a pang of loneliness came over me. My sister had her family. But I was alone. And I didn't want to be. With a sigh, I answered the phone.

"What do you want, Neil?"

“What’s all this bullshit about you testifying in a court case?”

I sighed. This was the last thing I needed to deal with at the moment.

“How did you even find out—?”

I broke off. I knew the answer to that question already, although I wish I didn’t.

He had connections, people who owed him favors, people he could squeeze or threaten or cajole for information.

The line between right and wrong, illegal and justified, was an incredibly gray, foggy area with him.

I’d learned a long time ago that I shouldn’t look too closely at club business.

“It’s no big deal,” I added. “And it’s none of your concern anyway.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I clenched my teeth.

“Like I said, it’s none of your concern. You were supposed to lose my number. Don’t make me get a restraining order.”

A beat of silence emanated over the phone. The threat of taking legal action to prevent him from accessing me was an empty threat. I’d never follow through. Neil wasn’t a danger to me—overly protective, yes. But he would never hurt a single hair on my head.

As I rounded a corner, I found myself at the emergency entrance. Two medics pushed a gurney through the double doors, bearing a teenager in a neck brace, blood coating her right pant leg from knee to ankle.

“Car accident,” one medic announced as a team of nurses rushed to take over. “Young female, sixteen years old. Leg was pinned under the dashboard. Looks like she might have some head trauma as well.”

“Where are you?” Neil’s voice was firm, but there was no mistaking the undeniable edge of apprehension in his tone.

I dragged my attention away from the medical team who raced off to the emergency room.

“I'm fine, Neil."

“Are you at the hospital?” he pressed, relentless as always. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I rubbed my forehead, fatigue settling heavily into my bones. I sank into a nearby chair and closed my eyes. I really needed to change my phone number…

“Neil,” I pleaded. “You have to stop. Please. Connie had her baby. That’s all. I’m at the hospital to help her out.”

He went quiet again.

“Didn’t you say she was having a boy?” he asked softly.

I huffed a dry laugh. By the time Connie announced her first pregnancy, Neil and I had already been divorced for several years. Seeing my sister having a baby while I still couldn’t get over the separation with my ex-husband, brought up so much grief that I cut all contact with Neil entirely.

“Yeah, that was Wylie,” I said. “He’s five years old now.”

Neil blew out a breath, incredulous.

“Has it really been that long?”

I hummed, but didn’t say anything. It felt like a lifetime. We were supposed to spend forever together. Not eternally apart like this.

“Did Connie pull through okay?” Neil asked.

My heart squeezed. My sister was part of my life, not his.

He lost the privilege to know anything about me as soon as he signed those divorce papers.

I wanted to tell him off, to push him away.

But my sister was surrounded by her loving family, and I was drifting through the hallways alone, with the tinny echo of Neil’s voice over the phone to keep me company.

Despite my better judgment, I wished selfishly that he could be here with me.

“She’s good,” I whispered. “Both Connie and the baby are healthy and strong. She had a little girl.”

“What’s her name?” Neil said.

I hesitated, scrubbing at the fabric of my jeans with my thumbnail. I shouldn't tell him, I thought. I’ve said too much already.

“Emma Rose,” I replied. “All ten fingers and toes are intact. Looks like a miniature version of Connie.”

“So, you’ll be teaching her how to beat the boys off with a stick then?”

I smiled, even though that small voice in the back of my head still warned me to stop talking to Neil, get off the phone, don’t let him in like this.

“I do take my role as the favorite aunt very seriously,” I said.

Neil chuckled—a low, deep sound that slid through my body like molten lava.

This was supposed to be us, I wanted to say.

We were supposed to be in that hospital room, welcoming our newborn into the world.

I wanted this with you, Neil. Not anyone else.

And I hate that after all these years, you’re still the only one I want to raise a family with, when all you can think about is your damn club.

“It must be hard,” Neil said. “Being away from your family. You were always close with your sister. Your mother was a different story.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I countered. “Screwing around with you didn’t help either.”

As much as I hated to admit it, my mother and I had been two sides of the same coin.

We had sharp tongues and scathing attitudes to match.

Connie inherited our father’s mild manners and gentle, nurturing demeanor.

He died of a heart attack on a construction job when we were teenagers, and the hole he left in our lives only soured my mother’s attitude even worse.

When I fell in love with Neil, she warned me to stay away from him.

That biker will break your heart, Harriet. Mark my words. Don’t come crying to me when you need someone to pick up the pieces. You’ll find no sympathy on my doorstep.

I was so hellbent on proving her wrong, clinging to Neil even tighter. I loved him, damn it. Why couldn’t she see that?

When I filed for divorce, I fully expected my mother would rub it in my face. Instead, she said nothing. Her silence was worse—so much worse—than any insult she could have flung my way.

“Does that stubborn old crone still hate my guts?” Neil asked.

I glanced down at the hospital floor.

“She didn't hate your guts, Neil.”

He snorted.

“Don’t sugarcoat the truth now, Hattie. You never bothered to before.”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair.

“Fine. Yes, she hated your guts. You were nearly ten years older than me, covered in tattoos, and you barely passed your GED. But that’s not why Mom hated you.”

“Really? Sounds like she had a laundry list of grudges built up already. What else was she holding against me?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. The truth was that my mother hated Neil precisely because I loved him. She never loved my father that way. Her marriage had been lukewarm at best, and her prickly demeanor only continued to keep her husband at arm’s length.

Her blood curdled over the fact that I was utterly enthralled with Neil after we met, willing to throw away everything I’d worked for because of a biker. He loved me so deeply, so fiercely, but my mother couldn’t be happy for me. Instead, she frothed at the mouth with jealousy.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said.

“No, don’t go easy on me. Let’s hear it.”

I hesitated, brushing an invisible speck of dirt off my jeans.

“She’s gone. Mom passed in her sleep a few years ago, right after Wylie was born.”

“Shit, Hattie,” Neil replied with chagrin. “I’m—I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. You should have called me. I could have helped with the funeral.”

That’s exactly why I didn’t tell him. Mom’s death would leave me vulnerable. I knew that if I saw Neil after burying my last surviving parent, I would stumble into his arms all over again.

I shook my head, scrubbing a hand over my face as I squared my shoulders.

“Because we’re divorced. I’m not your problem now.”