Page 8

Tusk

C laiming a stool at the bar in the clubhouse is getting to be part of my regular nightly routine. I search for Brittany during the day, turning over every stone in Las Salinas and the surrounding counties, and then drink myself stupid at night. It’s been nine months since Brittany left, and I really should give up looking for her. I can’t, though, because she’s all I think about, all I want. Her pretty, smiling face haunts my dreams.

Silver slithers closer. I see her in my peripheral vision. She’s a snake in the grass who acts like, now that Brittany is gone, if she catches me in just the right mood or I’m wasted enough, I’ll crawl in bed with her. Not gonna happen, not in this lifetime. None of the club girls interest me. They can’t compare to the one I lost.

When Silver is within arm’s reach, I reach out and push her away before she even starts talking to me. She makes a high-pitched whining sound and slinks off to dote on another brother.

My ex-wife has been relentless about wanting to get back together. Dealing with her is mentally exhausting. My phone rings, and it’s Gina. Since I can’t take a chance that her call is related to my kids, I have to take every damned call.

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“I just put the kids to bed, and I have something to show you.”

“Don’t care to see it. Anything else?”

“Why are you so dismissive, Wade? You used to love me.”

“You used to be loyal,” I fling back. “Now, you’re just a cheater who blew up our marriage because you lusted after your sister’s husband.”

She calmly tells me, “We could be a family again. I know you want that.”

I snort a laugh. “Correction. I wanted that at one point. No longer. If you don’t have anything constructive to say, I’m hanging up.”

“I called to tell you that our kids are getting a sibling.”

“Who knocked you up?” I ask, mildly curious.

“You did,” she says after a dramatic pause.

“Not fucking likely. If I had sex with you, I would remember.”

“We didn’t have our last one by having sex.” The tone of her voice is triumphant.

I go ramrod straight in my seat. “You’re bullshitting me,” I tell her.

There is no way they’d let her get implanted with my sperm again without me consenting. But as soon as the thought fully forms in my head, I realize I already gave consent six years ago, at the time I gave the samples.

I make a mental note to contact the IVF facility tomorrow. I need to verify that she scheduled another session, because she might be bluffing. I also need to withdraw my consent and have my sperm samples destroyed. That’s not doing me much good right now. I don’t want her doing this again.

“You’re going to be a father again,” she says triumphantly.

I tell her in no uncertain terms, “You’re not tricking me into making another kid with you. I’ll demand a paternity test so fast it will make your head spin.”

“Do whatever you like,” she tells me. “You’re still on the hook for paternity.”

I say, “Only if it’s actually mine.”

She leans across the counter towards the phone and makes a point of telling me, “It is. Don’t act so disappointed, I love having your babies, and you love me giving you more children. It’s a win-win situation, don’t you think?”

Seething, I close the call rather than answering her question. The prospect slides another beer my way, and I take a gigantic sip as I think the situation over again. I quickly decide that no matter if Brittany ever comes back to me or not, I’m not getting back into a toxic relationship with my ex-wife just because she needs an ATM.

Frustrated, I shove the damn beer aside, pull out my phone, and call Smoke. I hear a phone ringing in tandem with my phone’s ringing. The sound is coming from one of the pool table alcoves. I start walking back and hit the alcove just in time to see Smoke pull his phone out.

I jerk my chin at him and say, “It’s me. Do you and your old lady have time to talk?”

“Yeah, of course we do,” he replies. “What’s up? Is this club-related or personal?”

“Personal, and you’re probably gonna be fascinated by the creative ways my ex-wife is trying to screw me over this time.”

His old lady perks up. “I remember working on your case. Your ex couldn’t get rid of you fast enough.”

Smoke joins the conversation. “Wasn’t she the one with the affair partner?”

We all grab a four-top and settle down.

“Yeah, he left her. Now, she wants her old ATM back.”

Serena chuckles. “Just say no. Problem solved.”

“Not exactly. You see, we used IVF for our last kid. She was hell-bent on having a fourth kid, and that’s what it took to get her pregnant.”

“Sounds like she got her four kids. What’s she bitching about?” Smoke’s voice sounds about as annoyed as I feel.

“She called tonight, saying about how she went back for another treatment and is having a fifth kid. Says we should get back together for the baby.”

Both of them just sit there and stare at me for a brief moment.

“Look, it never was a great plan, ‘cause my ex-wife is the dumbest woman I know. I guess she thought that me seeing her pregnant with my kid would provoke some kind of fucking emotional response. Newsflash, it doesn’t.”

Smoke looks at his old lady, and I can see a spark of interest in his eye. She perks up too.

“We’re on it,” he says. “We did your divorce, and no one mentioned IVF. If you had, we would have settled the issue of which of you, if either, has the right to use the genetic material.”

“Yeah, she was rushing me something fierce, and I didn’t really think about the IVF we used years ago. It wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.”

Serena responds excitedly, “I get that. Now, tell us if the two of you had embryos made.”

“As best I can remember, they were making embryos from my sperm donation and her egg donation fresh each time we tried to get her pregnant.”

“That simplifies the case considerably. If there are embryos, then they contain both your genetic material and thus belong to both of you. If the genetic material wasn’t combined, then the contributor retains ownership. Text me the facility you used, and I’ll contact them in the morning and find out what you need to do in order to withdraw consent for her to use your genetic contribution.”

“I was already gonna do that myself tomorrow.”

Smoke responds, “Let’s get together and go together.”

I tell them, “Hell, I’m not even sure she had another IVF done. It could be that she’s too broke to do that, so she’s just lying.”

“I thought you saw her, and she was obviously pregnant,” Serena points out.

“I didn’t see her in person, she called.”

“So how many weeks pregnant is she?” Serena asks.

I shrug, “I didn’t ask. I haven’t seen her physically in months. Since the shit she pulled at the clubhouse, when I collect my kids, I wait outside in the car for them.”

“What about your kids, did they not say anything?”

“Nope,” I answer.

Serena’s hand comes up to cover her mouth, but it was Smoke who speaks. “It could be like you said, and she’s just pregnant by another man and trying to use that to get back with you.”

“I hope and pray that’s the case, ‘cause the last thing I want is another baby with my batshit crazy ex-wife. I’m praying that when we go into that office in the morning, they’ll tell me she never had another procedure, and this is just her either trying to rope me into raising another man’s child or fucking with my head.”

Smoke looks at his watch and tells me, “I know that has got to be a stressful situation. Why don’t you turn in early tonight, and we’ll meet up at eight tomorrow morning and get to their office before too many patients show up?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you for helping me with this sticky situation, brother.”

“Don’t worry, my club brothers are my number one priority…”

Serena clears her throat, and Smoke continues without missing a beat, “...after my own family, of course.”

I shoot him a grin because that was a nice save. We shake hands, and I head off home to catch some sleep.

***

Once I’m back home, I can feel the tension building in my neck, so I decide to take a shower. When the warm water pours down over my massive shoulders, I force myself to relax. My life is a mess. All the women I don’t give a shit about want me, and the only person I’m interested in doesn’t want to know me anymore. How’s that for some sad fuckin’ shit?

I still can’t figure out why Brittany ran out on me without giving me a chance to make things right. It’s been months. I miss her and want her so badly it hurts. She was the only one who loved me for me. The only one that cared about what I wanted and wasn’t trying to play stupid mind games with me all the time.

Why did she have to leave?

Images rise in my mind of the last night we spent together—how she rode my cock so well. We joked around, and she teased me with her brilliant mind and beautiful body. Brittany knew me better than anyone ever had. She knew what I liked to eat, how I liked my coffee, and what I liked best in bed. And she always made sure I got it. I remember how much I loved giving her orgasms, seeing her pretty face when she came. Everything about being with her was perfect.

The more I think of her, the harder my cock gets. I can’t resist taking myself in hand. I stroke myself to the thought of her pretty mouth, the way her spine curves when she puts her ass in the air for me. How much I loved sinking into the warm, wet tightness of her pussy. The way it felt when she was on top of me, riding my cock as she smiled down at me. The way it felt when her plump lips stretched around my girth as her tongue worked its magic.

I explode against the side of the shower, leaving behind a hot, dripping mess. As I rinse my seed from the tiles, my mouth waters at the memory of how she tasted when she rode my face. Brittany was something special. I knew that from the very beginning. I just never anticipated it ending so abruptly.

By the time I dried off and fell into bed, it was midnight. And of course, my dreams were all about Brittany. I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing seems to take away the gnawing need to have her back in my life and in my bed. I’d give a lot for just one more day with her—protecting her, enjoying her company. All the things I once took for granted, I would deeply cherish if only I had another chance.

Unfortunately, chances are good that she just didn’t feel the same way about me that I felt about her. Wherever my sweet girl is and whoever she’s with, I hope they’re treating her like the queen she is and that she’s found with them the happiness she could never find with me.

As long as she’s happy, I’ll bear any pain.