by Nina Levine
“Fuck, the list is long.”
“Oh, I can imagine, but what was the worst thing on it?”
He contemplates that. “It wasn’t the worst thing, but it was the thing I always regretted the most. When I was twelve, I had a crush on the girl next door. Liddy James. Fuck, I was gone on her and she never looked at me. I tried all the things I could think of to get her attention, and still she gave me nothing. One day, in desperation, I came up with a plan I thought was the plan of all plans. I would put chewing gum in her hair and then help her get it out. She would fall in love with me for life once I saved her hair.”
“Oh God, Winter. You didn’t.”
“I did. How the fuck was I to know the only way to get chewing gum out of hair is to cut it? Liddy never forgave me, and Mum grounded me for weeks. Worst fucking plan of my life. Mostly though, I regretted it every day I saw Liddy looking devastated because she had a boy haircut after that. Her hair was down to her ass before I put gum in it. Her mother got it all cut off because she hated dealing with her hair and this was the last straw as far as she was concerned.”
“That’s awful. I hope our daughter doesn’t meet a boy like you.”
“I’ll kick his ass if she does.”
“I mean, it’d be okay if she meets a man like you, because you’re pretty okay, but definitely not a twelve-year-old like you were.”
“Fuck, you only think I’m pretty okay? I need to do some serious work here.”
I laugh. “Baby, you are more than pretty okay. That was a bad choice of words. I think I was still stumbling over what you did to that poor girl. If we have a son, I’m gonna need you to teach him all about girls and the things that actually work to get their attention.”
“Trust me, I’ve got a list a mile long of all the things he should and shouldn’t do.”
“Ooh, I like it. You’ve been taking notes.”
“Angel, at this point, it’s not just notes. It’s a fucking essay. This is tricky fucking business.” His voice softens. “How was the needle? You okay?”
I glance down at my tummy where I’m bruising from all the needles. “It stung a little, but I’m okay.” I meet his gaze again. “Thank you for taking my mind off it.”
“What are your plans for the night?”
“Dinner, a bath, and then I’m going to read in bed for a while. And I don’t have to be at work until lunchtime tomorrow, so I’m hoping for a sleep in.”
“I’ll be with King all day tomorrow, so I’ll give you a call tomorrow night.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Later that night, as I’m crawling into bed and running through my gratitude list for the day like I always try to do, I smile as I remember the phone calls with Winter. One was super quick and one was longer, but it doesn’t matter the length, it only matters that we were with each other for whatever time we could get. It reminds me that regardless of whether life gets in the way of the plans we make, we’re a team and will always be there for each other.
10
Winter
* * *
“Was King happy with everything you two lined up?” Ransom asks me late Saturday afternoon when I arrive back in Melbourne after my trip up the coast with King. I’ve dropped into the clubhouse to go over some stuff with Ransom that couldn’t wait. My preference would have been to go straight home to Birdie, but this isn’t information I want to discuss over the phone.
“Yeah. Now we just wait and see if Torres comes through with the coke.”
Ransom nods. He feels the same as King and I do about Javier Torres: fuck knows if we can trust him.
“Axe called me earlier,” I say, shifting the conversation to the reason I’m here. “He’s got a lead on Zenith we need to check out. I want us to do that tomorrow. We’ll take Hunt with us, too. You free?”
“Yeah.”
We pull Hunt into the office and go over the details. I just want to do some recon first. If the lead is good, we’ll regroup and make a plan to go back with more men.
Once we’re finished and Hunt has left us, I say to Ransom, “Has Striker given you any hell this week?”
“No, he’s pulling his weight. Whatever you said to him worked.”
“Good. Let me know if that changes.” I grab my keys. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I say before exiting the office and making my way out to my bike.
When I arrive home, I find Birdie in bed, asleep under the covers. This has been a hard week for her. She’s put on a brave face and not complained about most of it to me, but I know it’s been difficult for her because I made a point to call her mother and ask. Jennifer let me know that Birdie has struggled with extreme tiredness, cramping, and headaches since starting the new round of injections. On top of that, she’s still taking the other injections, too, so she’s suffering from multiple side effects of both.
Kicking my boots off, I slide under the covers and join her. She stirs as the bed dips, her eyes coming to mine.
“Hey, you,” she says sleepily, snaking her arm over my waist and gripping my shirt. “You’re home.”
Pulling her close, I brush a kiss across her lips. “Yeah. Go back to sleep.”
“No,” she murmurs, trying to keep her eyes open. “I wanna talk.”
“Baby, you can barely stay awake. We’ll talk later.”
“Mmm….”
She falls back asleep in my arms and I kiss her forehead, savouring this quiet time with her. This woman is my everything, and being away from her this week has killed me. I’ve made it clear to King that I won’t be leaving Melbourne for anything else until we’re finished this IVF cycle. And even after that, when we’re hopefully in the stages of early pregnancy, it’ll take a lot to get me to leave town.
Birdie sleeps for another hour and a half in which I reposition her against my side so I can lie on my back and watch TV. I’m engrossed in an episode of Mindhunter when she stirs again.
“What time is it?” she asks, moving her leg over mine.
Her beauty captures my full attention when I turn to face her. No other woman even comes close to Birdie for me. “It’s almost six thirty. Time for your injection.”
Snuggling against me with her arm tightly across my chest, she says, “I need five more minutes here, with you. I’ve missed you. How are you? How’s your wound healing? How was King? Tell me everything.”
Birdie and her questions. I trace my fingers over her shoulder. “I’m good. Glad to be home.”
Her lips flatten. “Seriously? After a week away, that’s all you’ve got for me?”
I kiss that unimpressed look off her face. “We’ve talked every day, angel. You know how I am. I’m tired and pissed off that I’ve had to be away from you all week. My wound is good. Stop worrying about it. And King is his usual self. I’m more interested in talking about how you are.”
Her hand curls around my neck. “Thank you. I know how hard it is for you to drag words out of that mouth of yours when the conversation is about you.”
I chuckle at the smartass attitude she’s throwing my way. Fuck I’ve missed her. “Yeah, well take note of how many words I just dragged out of my mouth. We’ve hit my limit for the day.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ve hit your limit for the week, more like it.”
“I talked to your mum this week. Why didn’t you tell me you haven’t been well? I thought we were doing straight-up honesty with this.”
“Ugh, you are a sneaky man,” she grumbles, moving to sit cross-legged next to me. “I planned to tell you today, when you were home safe.”
“What does me being home have to do with this?”
“You’ve been away for a week handling club stuff that maybe, I don’t know, puts you in danger. You needed to be able to focus completely on what you were doing. I wasn’t going to add to that danger by giving you information I knew might distract you. And Mum and I will be having serious words; she should not have shared it with you either.”
; “You tell your mum to stop talking to me and we’re going to have a problem, angel.”
Her eyes widen at the hard tone I’ve taken. “Whoa, where did that come from?”
“It’s come from me needing to know everything so I can take care of you. And as far as me being in danger, I wasn’t, and I’m not. Get that thought out of your head.”
Her brows arch. “You came home nearly three weeks ago with a knife wound you had to stitch yourself because you couldn’t go to the hospital. If that’s not being in danger, I don’t know what the fuck is.”
I’ve been waiting for this conversation. I knew Birdie was sitting on it, and worrying over it. If we weren’t in the middle of IVF, I’m certain she would have brought it up sooner. “I was caught off guard that night. Shit like that doesn’t happen often.”
“Look, I know we don’t talk about club stuff, and I don’t want to, but you need to realise I can handle knowing when shit is bad. A heads-up is all I need, because being confronted with something like you coming home bleeding and wounded like that when I’m not prepared for it is worse than being confronted with something I’m mentally ready for.”
Fuck, she’s right. I’ve been trying to shield her from club threats, not wanting to cause her unnecessary worry, but I should have been preparing her instead. Birdie is the kind of person who needs time to think shit over, to plan for it. Rolling onto my side, I prop myself up on my elbow and reach for her hand. “You’re right. The club does have some shit going on that could grow worse, but I’m working hard to resolve that. I take as many precautions as I can to protect myself and everyone tied to the club. We’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, which usually alerts me to threats. Sometimes, like when I came home that time, those precautions fail. But that’s the exception, not the norm. In future, I’ll give you a heads-up when you need it.”
She squeezes my hand. “Thank you. And I’ll keep you up to date with what I’ve got going on even if I think it’ll mess with your concentration.” Then, smiling, she adds, “Look at us getting all good at this communication business. It’s only taken us how many years?”
“Too many. So tell me how you’re feeling today? You don’t look crash hot. And how did your ultrasound go?”
“I’m super tired on these drugs, and the bloating started today. Actually, today’s been the absolute worst since I started. Between the headaches, the cramping, and now this bloating, I feel like shit. And I just want to sleep all day. The doctor said everything is looking good. She didn’t adjust my dosage or anything. She did tell me to prepare for this bloating to get worse, though.”
“How about we give you this injection, get some food into you, and then spend the night in here? You can sleep while I watch TV.”
She bends her face to mine and kisses me. “That sounds like my idea of heaven.”
It sounds like mine, too. The thought of having my woman in my arms again is what’s kept me going this week, and I intend to spend tonight not letting her go.
11
Birdie
* * *
Goddamn, where is it? I rifle through my wardrobe searching for my favourite pink scarf. I was sure I’d put it in here after wearing it last week, but for the life of me, I can’t find it.
“Birdie,” Winter’s voice sounds from the bedroom, “we need to leave in five minutes. Are you ready?”
Jesus, he’s been giving me countdowns for the last fifteen minutes; I’m over them. Like, if he gives me another one, I’m going to punch him in the face.
Calm down.
You’re not going to punch your husband.
Yes, I fucking am.
“Birdie.” He joins me in the walk-in robe. “Did you hear me?”
I spin to face him. “Yes, I bloody heard you! The first time, the second time, and the third time! I know we need to leave, but I can’t find my pink scarf and I need it, so we’re not leaving until I bloody find it. Make yourself useful and help me search for it.”
Don’t punch him.
Do. Not. Do. It.
His brows arch. “You’ve got a thousand other scarfs. Why do you need the pink one?”
“Oh my God, you did not just say that!” I spin back around, willing my arm to stay by my side instead of extending itself towards him. “Go away. I’ll find it myself.”
“Fucking hell, Birdie. We’re going to be late to our appointment. Just wear a different scarf.”
“Winter, if you want your balls to stay connected to your body, you’ll shut the hell up and leave. I’m not wearing a different scarf. I need this one for luck.”
I hear the long breath he exhales, and it pisses me off just as much as his countdowns. “Angel, you don’t need a scarf for luck.”
Ignoring him, I continue searching, throwing clothes here, there, and everywhere in my desperate attempt to find this scarf.
I do need luck.
I need all of it and I need it today.
We’re going in for another ultrasound and blood test, and I’m ready for results that tell the doctor it’s time for the trigger shot. The last shot to prepare the eggs for collection. I’ve had four weeks of daily injections, near-daily blood tests, and so many ultrasounds I can’t keep count anymore. I’ve had headaches, cramps, bloating, mood swings, sore boobs, food cravings, weight gain, and pain. I’m way past ready to get these eggs out of me and get them fertilised. And yeah, if I’m honest, I’m ready for Winter to go in and contribute to this baby. Let him get his dick out and jerk off.
God, I’m a bitch.
It’s not like he hasn’t been by my side every step of the way, but in my darkest, most awful moments, I can’t help but feel like I’m the one who’s had to do everything and put up with all the side effects. My body feels like it’s been pushed and prodded all over the damn place. And we’re not even at the finish line yet. I just want a day off, but since that’s not going to happen, I’ve allowed myself to dwell in the shit of it all and take it out on Winter this morning.
I want to turn around and say sorry for being a bitch, but I can’t bring myself to do that. Not yet. I’m more compelled to feel sorry for myself for a bit longer than I am to apologise and get on with what I’ve got to do.
“I found it!” I wrap it around my neck and face him. “I’m ready now, master.”
More of those arched brows. Then, a shake of his head and—“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”
“Well, you’ve been marching around the house all morning issuing orders like a master. It’s fitting.”
“And you’ve been taking your sweet time getting ready. One of us needs to keep an eye on the clock.”
“One of these days, I’m gonna get myself a new husband who doesn’t know what a clock is.”
His nostrils flare. “Yeah, you go ahead and try that, baby. See how fucking far you get. If you think I’m ever allowing that, you’re fucking delusional.”
And just like that, my annoyance with him disappears. Winter’s possessiveness is always a turn on for me, even when sex is the last thing on my mind. We haven’t had sex for weeks thanks to the fertility drugs, and I don’t want it now, but what he’s just said reminds me how much I want him. And how much I love him.
Gripping his arm, I say, “I hate these drugs.”
“You and me both.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch this morning.”
Winter’s phone rings and he checks the caller ID. Holding it up, he shows me it’s Max. “You take this while walking that ass of yours to the car. I’ll grab your work stuff.”
Swiping the phone from him, I kiss him quickly before saying, “Yes, master.”
He smacks my ass as I move past him and answer the call. “Hey, Maxxi. How are you?”
“I’m good. Just calling to see how you two are. You killed my brother yet?”
“I’m close to it, but he’s still breathing and he’s still got his dick attached. Maybe check in again tonight and see if I’m a widow then.”
“Are you on your wa
y to the clinic? Winter said you’re hopeful you might get some good news today.”
I enter the garage and get in Winter’s ute. This has become our morning routine: he drives me to the clinic for our tests when we need them and then to work. Thank God I work for myself; it’d be hard to keep up with all the clinic visits while working for someone else. I can’t imagine many bosses would happily accept me being late most days. “Yes, we’re leaving now.” Winter’s door opens and he joins me. “I’ll put you on speaker so you can talk to Winter, too.”
After I switch the call to speaker, Winter extends his arm across the back of my seat, cranes his neck to look behind the car while reversing, and says, “Birdie’s in a mood today. Maybe you can snap her out of it.”
While I pull a face at my husband, Max says, “I thought she was in a mood every day.”
Winter’s grin causes me to smack him. “You two need to stop ganging up on me.”
“I’ve got something to tell you, Birdie. It might help shift your mood,” Max says.
“Ooh, tell me before I go for your brother’s balls,” I say.
Max whistles. “Fuck, you mean business today. Right, so I’ve been on a few more dates with that woman.”
“And?” I’m so excited for him that he’s found someone he likes.
“And what?”
“Goodness, Max, spill! Tell me everything. What you guys did. When your next date is. Whether you think this might become more. Everything!”
“Jesus,” Max mutters. “I should have known this would become an interrogation. Can we go back to discussing Matt and the impending loss of his balls? How close are you guys to needing those balls, though? Is it almost time for him to hand his swimmers over?”
“Yes, almost time,” I say, looking at Winter. “He’s safe until then. Thank you for reminding me I need them. I’ll have to find other ways of hurting him when he nags me about the time and not being late for appointments.”