Page 15

FOURTEEN

JADE

Bracing my hands on the steering wheel, I glance up at the clubhouse and a sense of nostalgia washes over me. In the years since Irish passed, I’ve done everything possible to avoid this place. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. But the truth is I had a lot of good times here, times that I easily forgot the moment I learned of Irish’s death.

It’s hard to imagine having all of that again. Almost as much as it is terrifying. I don’t think these men realize that they once collectively held my heart’s happiness in their hands, and I know they’re unaware that they hold it once again. It’s cruel that they have so much power over my life.

Cruel and injust.

But that’s what I signed up for.

Not once, but now twice.

I turn my head, and peer back at Killian who is occupied with his iPad. I always feel guilty when I hand him that thing, but he loves it. Surely an hour a day won’t screw him up too much.

“Come on, bud, let’s go say hi to Uncle Biggie.”

He tears his eyes away from the screen and I watch as his face lights up with pure joy. “He give me a dollar?”

I laugh. Every time Biggie comes around, he always gives each of the boys a twenty-dollar bill. Killian is too small to know the difference between a dollar and a twenty, so he doesn’t realize his piggy bank is stuffed with a couple hundred dollars. He’s just excited to receive something like his brothers.

“I’m sure he will.”

I get out of the car and help him out too. Fuckface appears out of nowhere and greets us as I move to my trunk to retrieve the box I packed up for the club.

“Here, let me get that,” he offers, hauling the box into his arms. “Where does this go?”

“I was hoping to give it to Biggie. Is he here?”

“Yeah, he and Taxi are inside planning routes for the trip to California. They’re currently fighting over what gas station we’re going to stop at when we hit Utah.”

My steps halt for a moment. I’m very well aware of the annual trip across country. I’ve planned all mine and Irish’s family vacations around it, but I haven’t had any reason to think about it.

But now that it’s been brought up all I can think about are the times Irish came back to the hotel, and told me stories about the rally, and all the parties. They weren’t particularly family friendly, and I specifically recall a rather disturbing tale that involves Shotgun being with two women.

Those parties are like one big orgy. I don’t care what anyone says.

“When is that coming up?” I ask Fuckface.

“Couple of weeks.”

“Is Shotgun on the rotation this year?”

It’s Fuckface’s turn to go still, and when he slowly turns to face me, regret flashes in his eyes. It’s all the confirmation I need, but he doesn’t know that, and he feels it’s necessary to confirm it for me.

“Fuck, you didn’t know?”

I force a smile. “It’s fine. I’m sure it just slipped his mine.” I’m not sure how he could forget to tell me something like that, but it’s fine. Everything is fine.

If the brothers don’t know he’s in a relationship, they’re definitely going to expect him to cut loose and sew whatever wild oats he has. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me.

“Um this is going to make me sound like a total douchebag, but I’m going to say it anyway. Remember that time when you went into labor and I kind of saved your life?”

“You mean that time when my kid let you into my house, and you called 9-1-1 because Shotgun told you too?”

“Yep, that’s the one. I wasn’t going to cash in on that little favor, but if you could maybe not tell Shotgun I told you about California, we could call it even.”

“You know it’s becoming more and more clear to me why they call you Fuckface.”

His brows knit together, and confusion mars his features. “I think you mean that as an insult.”

“Damn, nothing gets past you, huh?” I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”

I strut past him, taking Killian’s hand, and make my way into the clubhouse. Fuckface trails behind, carrying the box. The guy really is a tool. It amazes me they voted him into the club, I guess no one is banging down the door to become a King these days.

As soon as Killian sets his eyes on Biggie, he releases my hand and runs straight toward him.

“Uncle Biggie!”

His gaze swings around, and his eyes go wide when he sees Killian. “Whoa, is that my favorite almost two-year-old?”

“You give me a dollar?”

Biggie chuckles, already reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. He flips through the wad of cash, fishing out a twenty and places it my son’s palm.

“Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“I put all ya dollars in my pig! Right, Mommy?”

“That’s right,” I say.

Biggie lifts his head, giving me a warm smile. “This is a nice surprise. What brings you by?” The smile slips slightly. “If you’re looking for Shotgun, he isn’t here. He and Guido took a ride out to Jersey to scope out some property.”

That I knew. He texted me before I even decided to leave the house to come here. Apparently, crossing the Outerbridge is a bigger deal to him than telling me he’s going across the fucking country.

But I’m not mad. Everything is fine.

“I’m actually here to see you. I was packing up some of Irish’s things to donate, and I thought the club would like some of the things I found,” I say, pointing to the box Fuckface is currently sorting. He pulls out the traffic light, eyeing it like it’s a fucking spaceship.

“Can I have this?” he asks. “It would look mint in my room.”

“No,” Biggie grunts. His gaze lingers on the light then he glances back at me. “That was a wild night.”

“I remember it vaguely.”

“Memory serves me correct it was you that drove the getaway car.”

Yes, it was. The old me, the Jade before kids, got off on all that shit.

“I plead the fifth.”

That earns me another chuckle. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart. Miss seeing your face around here.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him he’ll see it a lot more once Shotgun outs us to the club—you know, providing he doesn’t persecute him after he does so—but I smack my lips together, keeping that bit of information to myself. Although, a part of me wonders what would happen if I just told him.

“I needed time,” I say instead.

“That’s understandable. I’m hoping you being here means you’re ready to let someone other than Shotgun into your life.” I’m not sure what my face does, but Biggie’s eyes narrow slightly. “By that I mean the club. We miss you and the boys.”

“Oh,” I sputter. “Right, well, Legend has a football game this weekend. I bet he would love to see some of his uncles there, cheering him on.”

He smiles. “I’ll get the time and location from Shotgun.” He tousles Killian’s hair. “What about you? You’re too little to throw a ball, aren’t you?”

“I go school.”

“Preschool,” I clarify. “He goes half-days twice a week. Raiden is playing T-ball, though. He’s got a couple more games left in the season, but they may overlap with your trip west.”

“Shotgun tell you we’re keeping a few of the guys here?”

“We haven’t talked about it yet.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll fill you in. You need anything, you just call one of them.”

“Right.” I lower my lashes, tugging the frayed hem of my shorts. “Well, we need to get going. I have the Salvation Army coming to pick up some furniture, and I didn’t entirely think that through. Now, they’re picking up my bed before I’ve had a chance to buy a new one.”

Biggie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Lots of changes.”

I lift my head. “Yeah, they’ve been on the horizon, though.” My gaze slides to Killian, and I crook my finger, signaling it’s time to go. “I hope you make it to the game, Biggie.”

“I’ll be there.”

I take Killian’s hand and start for the door, but something makes me pause. I glance over my shoulder, my eyes connecting with Biggie’s. “If it isn’t too much trouble, can I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

Don’t say it, Jade. Just keep walking.

I ignore the warning inside my head, fearing I will regret the consequences of keeping quiet more.

“Make sure he comes home from your trip in one piece.”

He doesn’t ask who I’m talking about. He already knows.

Something tells me he knows everything.

Me: So when were your planning on telling me you were leaving for three weeks to go to California.

Shotgun: I planned on telling you the other night, but you distracted me by jumping on my cock.

Me: That’s not an excuse.

Shotgun: It wasn’t meant to be one. We’ll figure it out.

Right because that’s what we always do. However, knowing that doesn’t quell my anger. I toss my phone on the counter. A little while later the men arrive to take my bedroom furniture out of the house. I was too mad to go to the furniture store, so I don’t know when I’ll actually have a bed, but I found an air mattress in the garage that will suffice until I find something I like.

I’m helping Legend get dressed when my phone chimes with a text.

Shotgun: Running late. Raiden doesn’t have T-ball tonight. Think you can take Legend to the field? I’ll meet you at the practice, and you can take the boys home.

Me: No need to meet me there. I’ll just stay for the entire practice.

Shotgun: Jade.

Me: ??

Shotgun: You’re mad.

Me: I am not. Everything is fine. I’ll see you tonight when we get hone. I’ll pick up a pizza or something for dinner.

Shotgun: Only an idiot of a man actually believes that when a woman says everything is fine she’s being truthful.

I don’t bother responding. If I do, we’ll never get out of the house, and putting Legend’s gear on takes me a while. I help him get dressed, then I pack a bag, loading up on snacks. I also make sure to grab the iPads. All the Karens can come for me, but at least I don’t let my kids run around the sports complex, disrupting the practices. It’s too easy for them to wander into the parking lot.

Once I triple check that I have everything we need to hang on the bleachers for two hours, I load the kids into the truck and head for the field. I’m not even going to lie, I silently applaud myself when I get there with five minutes to spare.

Legend runs onto the field, and Raiden runs straight for the concession stand. Forty dollars later, the boys are munching on French fries and chicken fingers while I sit on the bleachers, my Stanley cup in one hand, my phone in the other. Every time it’s Legend’s turn to practice tackle drills, I video him. I have no idea what I’m recording, but I know Shotgun records all his practices, and on the off days, they study them. I’m not sure what they go over, but I make a mental note to ask so that I can do it with him when he’s in California. Even during the off-season, Legend likes to go over his videos, and I can find him in his bedroom watching Hudl videos of his past games.

He’s got a real passion for it, and I’m here for it.

It doesn’t even bother me that I’m the only mom here tonight.

I love watching my boy, I just wish I had a better understanding of the game.

Legend gets low, wrapping his arms around of his teammates, and takes him down to turf. When his coaches cheer him on, I pop up off the bleachers, and do the same.

“Get him, Legend!”

Legend rolls off the other boy, and even though he’s wearing his helmet, I can see his cheeks turn red, so I sit back down. That’s when I hear the roar of a motorcycle. I knew he would still show.

It’s another reason I didn’t respond to his text.

“Uncle Shotty is here,” Raiden announces, pointing to the entrance of the complex. I lower my sunglasses so he doesn’t see me stare, and I take my time, drinking him in. He doesn’t usually wear his kutte to the boy’s practice, which tells me he came straight from wherever he was, just like he said he would. “Can I go to him?”

I wait for his eyes to latch onto us so he sees the boys before turning to Raiden.

“Sure.”

He tosses his iPad on the bleachers a little too recklessly and abandons his food, jumping off the bleachers. Killian watches his brother take off toward Shotgun, and instantly turns to me. Pointing a pudgy finger to his chest he says, “Me too!”

I laugh because of course he’d leave me for Shotgun too.

“Go ahead, but don’t run. You’ll get a boo-boo.”

Not one to waste food, he takes another bite of his chicken tender before he follows the path his brother just took. When he reaches Shotgun, he bends to lift him onto shoulders. With Killian on his shoulders, and Raiden glued to his hip, he strides for me. I turn my head, doing my best to appear unbothered and focus on the field.

He climbs the bleachers, taking a seat next to me. Neither of us say a word to one another. He’s too busy fielding questions from the boys, and I’m too stubborn. The practice wraps up an hour later, and he sends the boys to throw out the garbage.

I start to pack everything back up, still refusing to acknowledge him.

“How long you plan on staying mad at me?” He finally asks.

“I didn’t know there was a time limit.”

“I’m going to be gone for three weeks, Jade. There are other ways I rather spend our time together than seeing that puss on your face.”

“I don’t have a puss on my face,” I snap.

He reaches out gently lifting my sunglasses to the top of my head.

“Mama, you won’t even look at me.”

I lift my eyes to his to specifically prove him wrong.

“That’s better.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not mad you’re going. I’m mad you didn’t tell me about it.”

“I know. I think part of the reason I didn’t was because I was still hoping to find a way out of it.”

That surprises me. “You don’t want to go?”

He sighs, lowering his hands to his sides. “I want to go. It’s good for the club if I go. I don’t want to be away from you and the boys for three weeks.”

If he came clean, I could fly out with the boys like I used to do with Irish, but I’m not sure that’s wise. Telling everyone we’re together is bad enough, having to explain it to all the chapters, including the national one, would only make things more difficult.

I cross my arms against my chest so I don’t wrap my arms around him.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“Then quit fighting with me while I’m here.”

“Fine.” I pout. “But just so you know I’m a fan of make-up sex.”

“Sweetheart, you’re a fan of all the sex.” He inches forward, his eyes doing a quick sweep of our surroundings. When he catches sight of the boys running around the field chasing after Legend and his teammates, he lets his finger trail from my collarbone, sliding it all the way down between my breasts. “Got my test results today,” he says as he blatantly stares down my shirt.

“Oh, so you’re finally going to fuck me?”

He snaps his hand back, flashing me a wicked grin.

“All night long.”

He makes it really hard to be mad at him when he makes promises like that, but when we leave, I tell him I have ro stop at the gas station before we get dinner, and he pulls his motorcycle right behind me to pump my gas—he makes it damn near impossible.

He does, however, make it really obvious that I’m in love with him.

And three weeks without him is going to feel like an eternity.