All of this is new, and I’m lost. I’m not used to worrying about sharing my son with anyone. The thought was always in the back of my mind that one day it could happen. That’s not true; the actual thought was that there was a chance of Nightmare showing up and taking my son from me completely if he were to find out the truth.
So, this visiting or whatever it is we’re doing, I’ll gladly do my part, because, in my heart, I know it could be so much worse. He could want nothing to do with our son ever, or he could take him away from me completely. Nightmare has the means to just disappear if he wanted too. He’s an outlaw, and those types of men do what they want and know how to do it without getting caught.
With a sigh, I down the large glass of wine and pray that I’m able to sleep tonight. I’ll definitely need my wits about me tomorrow. Who knows what kind of mood my baby daddy will be in. Not only that, but I have to face his brothers, and some of them are as ruthless as he’s known to be. Fingers crossed I make it home in one piece.
Having them in my space is strange; not bad, just different. Not like I’m here much anyhow. I’m usually at the club or gone doing something—a run, a gig, whatever.
Maverick’s discovered my drums and thinks they’re pretty bitchin’. Those are my words, not his. His were more along the lines of “Ummm…wow.” Bitchin’ sounds better in my mind. His mom would have my ass if I taught him that word, though, so we’ll save it for when he’s older.
I’m not going to lie to myself either. Having Bethany floating around in the kitchen, cooking dinner, is pretty fucking nice. I haven’t brought anyone here except for a few brothers. Club whores are meant to be kept at the club, not brought home.
I don’t touch any of them anyhow. I haven’t been abstinent by any means, but I hit it out of town. Bethany or my son will never have to worry about running into past pussy.
I like it that way; less bullshit for everyone involved. The gigs and runs help make that possible. I don’t know what the hell to do now, though.
Nearly two weeks ago I had getting in Bethany’s pants, and possibly keeping her, on my mind. Last week after the news of my son being kept from me came out in the open, I hated all women. This weekend, I just have no idea where I sit with anything.
Part of me still hates Bethany. I think I’ll always have resentment toward her for that. However, other thoughts have been creeping in as well. Like how I’m unbelievably grateful to have a kid and a son at that. Also, that she’s the mother of my child, and so far, appears to be a damn good mother to my kid.
What more can a man ask for, but a woman that takes care of your kid well. I could go into little details like decent whiskey, tight pussy, etc. but that’s all irrelevant when you get down to the shit that really matters in life.
Do I still want to fuck Bethany? Of course, I do; I’m a red-blooded male in his prime. I’ve thought of fucking her to make her mine. Then I thought about hate fucking her, then fucking her and killing her, then more hate fucking. Now I’m almost to the point of make-up fucking.
I’m pretty sure if she would suck my cock dry for the next few years, I could find it in my heart to forgive her. It’s shallow, but I’m not a fake motherfucker. Every man out there with a dick who loves women would feel the same way. They’re just pussies and won’t admit it; I’m not.
So, here I sit, at the club having a drink and thinking while B and my kid are at my house—hopefully, sound asleep. She thought she could fight me on where they’re staying. Not a chance. She owes me, and she knows it.
It’s gonna be my way on a lot of shit for the foreseeable future, so she needs to come to terms with it. I should be at home with them, but I need time to clear my head after spending a quiet evening with them both.
“Another?” Blaze gestures to my empty bottle.
Shrugging, I nod. “Sure, fuck it.”
“How you holdin’ up, lad?” Scot stares at me curiously. He’s the oldest member here at the clubhouse, and I’ve ridden with him for many years. He was sort of in charge when we were Nomads; but here, he’s my brother—another officer in the club.
“I haven’t strangled her yet.”
“Aye.” He chuckles. “Have ye fucked ‘er again?”
That’s the question of the night it seems. Every brother I’ve come across has asked the same damn thing. Fuckers, all thinking with their cocks.
“Nope, sure haven’t.”
“Stronger man than I.” He laughs again, finishing his draft. “Time I go check on my ol’ lady.”
“Be safe, brother.”
“Aye, you too, lad.” He shakes my hand and heads out.
His ol’ lady runs the local bar about twenty minutes down the road, and Scot always shows up when it’s near closing time. After Viking’s father shot her, Scot’s been stuck up her ass and with good reason. I’d be even worse if it were my ol’ lady, I suppose.
Blaze sets the fresh, cold beer in front of me, and I gulp down a large swig.
“So she came back, huh?”
I grunt, not saying anything really. Everyone knows my business and that shit drives me crazy. I don’t do drama, especially when it comes to the club.
“Look, I know I haven’t been around you as long as Scot or say Viking, but I’m your brother nonetheless. I just want you to be happy, and I’m glad she’s giving you the chance to be in your kid’s life.”