“Yes, he’s here! Come say hi,” she replies toward a narrow hallway off the side of the living room.
He comes out running, going full speed, jumping when he reaches me. My knees bend, and I catch him, lifting him until he nearly touches the ceiling. In one week, he’s become my entire world.
“Yow’re here, for weal.”
“I am.” Nodding, I grin. I can’t stop the smile overtaking my mouth at getting to see him again. I’m overjoyed by hearing him talk and visiting with him. “When I promise you something, Maverick, it’ll always happen, you can count on it. I don’t break promises. Got it?”
He nods, and we fist bump as I easily balance him in my grip with one arm.
“Missed you, little dude.”
“Missed yow.” He smiles, and I set him back down, turning to find Bethany watching us wistfully.
Setting my backpack down, I glance around the small space. “Where am I staying?”
“Wif me,” my son instantly answers, and I chuckle.
“Hey buddy, your bed’s a little too small for Daddy. His feet would fall off.” B laughs.
Maverick’s finger goes to his temple and he taps it a few times, clearly thinking it over. “Ummm…” He shrugs, and she laughs again.
“You can sleep on the couch. We don’t have a spare room.”
“Him will fit in yowr bed, Momma.”
She swallows roughly and shoots an uneasy smile at me. “We’ll figure it out, Mav; don’t worry.” Her gaze meets mine. “Have you eaten?”
“Nope.”
“Well then, guess we can start there,” she replies, and I’m not sure it’s for me or her. I think she’s reassuring herself.
“You don’t have a gig this weekend?”
“Nope, bar’s got another band visiting.”
“I’ll get some food started.”
The day flies by hanging out with the kid, and it’s not until the next night that I’m really drawn to Bethany.
Turning over on the uncomfortable couch, I steady my breathing to listen.
“No!” B grounds out, and the sound carries out my way from her room. The living room is in the middle, separating hers and Maverick’s rooms. I doubt he can hear his mom, but I definitely can.
On alert, I grab the blade from my pants that I’d discarded beside the couch earlier and quietly creep toward her hall. Her door’s cracked open, in case our son needs her in the middle of the night. I use it to my advantage, following the wall so I can be hidden by the partially-closed door.
“No, please?” she groans, sorrow and fear coating her voice.
She sounds as if she’s being tortured, and no amount of anger I had from her secrets can keep me from wanting to protect her, to save her from whoever’s hurting her in there. It’s in this moment that I realize that no matter how much her deceit hurt me, I’d die for her if I had to. She’s my son’s mother, and he needs her more than anyone else on this planet.
Leaning toward her door, the floor creaks, and I instantly flatten myself against the wall, holding my breath. I want to have the drop on whoever's in there, not the other way around.
There’s silence for a few moments and then a soft cry. It’s the last straw. I jump through the opening, in a fighter stance, ready to stab to death whomever I need to, so I can save Bethany.
The room’s empty; her window’s even closed and locked securely. It’s just her, tossing and turning while grumbling. She’s dreaming, but whatever it is, it’s making her scared or hurt.
I could walk away right now, go back to sleep on the couch and pretend like this never even happened. I don’t need to worry myself over her comfort, and I shouldn’t want to after what she pulled. But I do.
Her being upset makes it hard for me to breathe for some reason. It’s confusing and infuriating. I’m a criminal, an outlaw; I don’t care about shit if it doesn’t concern me or my club.