“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I guess I am.” God, she loved that grin—that particular one he was wearing now. It meant a special kind of affection he had for her, not sexy or even romantic, but an affection for who she was as a person. It was friendship. And it was about the most romantic, sexy thing she could think of.
When he came in for a kiss, she pushed him back with her fists full of shirt. “Uh-uh. I have vom breath. Nope.”
“Good point. Let’s go in and clean up. If you’re really feeling up to the party, we’ll go by the drugstore on the way to Apollo’s.”
~oOo~
Sage pushed an ajar door open and found herself staring right at Jacinda’s bare boobs. She was in Athena’s bedroom, and it was obviously dinner time.
“Oh, sorry. I was looking for the bathroom.”
Jacinda pulled a little flowered blanket up over her shoulder. “S’okay. It’s the next door down.”
“Okay, thanks.” Actually, though, Sage was sort of transfixed by what she was seeing—Jacinda in a rocking chair, Athena cradled on her lap, looking up at her mom while she nursed, one hand settled between the rise of her mother’s breasts, the other lying against Jacinda’s side. That hand made a little fist that flexed with every suck.
She met Jacinda’s face again and saw her smiling. “Becker says you might be doing this soon.”
“He said that?” That dope. Telling people even before they knew for sure? She was going to kick him in the shin when she went back outside.
“They all suck at secrets like that. I think they have to keep so many that could get people hurt that they don’t have a place to keep the innocent ones.”
“I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet. We’re trying, I guess, and I was sick this morning, but I don’t know.”
“Well, if you’re trying, then I hope you are. Don’t take anything for granted, though.”
“Oh, right. It was hard for you, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Now that I have her, I don’t care how hard it was. She’ll be our only, though, because yeah, it was very hard, and we almost lost her too many times.”
The little girl in Jacinda’s arms was beautiful, and, other than being noticeably smaller than Sammy, Deb and Simon’s son who was nearly the same age, she seemed completely normal. But she’d heard, mainly from Cecily, who was pregnant herself and obsessed with all things baby, that Athena had been born premature and still had health issues because of it, including breathing problems. “Is she okay?”
Jacinda smiled at her daughter. “She is. She’s getting stronger all the time, having fewer problems. Her doctor thinks she’ll outgrow most of her issues by the time she’s ready for kindergarten. Except her hearing, but when she’s a little older, we can get her hearing aids.”
“She’s deaf?”
“Not completely, but she doesn’t hear like she should. We didn’t understand that until a couple months ago. We don’t know how much loss there is yet, because she’s so young—even younger than her age. She was more than two months early. She’s been slow at everything, so we didn’t know to wonder why she wasn’t really vocalizing yet.”
As Jacinda changed boobs and settled Athena back at the fresh one, a cavalcade of doubts rolled through Sage’s head. What the hell were they doing? What if something went wrong? What if their kid was sick? What if worse happened?
“Oh shit,” Jacinda laughed, “you look like you just lost three pints of blood. I didn’t mean to scare you. I live and breathe all this, and sometimes my mommy mouth runs amok. You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just ... hitting me. This is a big deal.”
“Well, yeah. You’re making a human being.”
Now she felt like a stupid kid. Of course it was a big deal.
“Sage, can I ask you something?” Jacinda’s tone had gone serious.
“Sure.” Sage girded herself for an intrusive question.
“Did Beck push this on you, having his kid?”
That made her laugh. “No, it was my idea. I’ve done most of the pushing in our relationship. He’s the one trying to rein me in.” When the serious concern eased from Jacinda’s expression, Sage added, “I just ... I want all of him. You know? He’s ...” There weren’t words for what Becker meant to her, what he was for her. “I love the family he’s given me, and I want to make more of it.”
Jacinda nodded. Then she grunted and pushed at her boob. “Hey, starlight, watch those teeth.”
‘Starlight’ was just about the cutest baby endearment ever. Sage wondered if the baby could hear it, or ever would. “Does that hurt a lot?”
“When she bites, yeah. But otherwise, it feels great. Not at first—it hurts at first, until you get used to it. I started by pumping, for weeks, until she could nurse, and pumping doesn’t feel great. But I love nursing her. It’s the perfect quality time.” Smiling down at her little girl, she added, “Didn’t you need the bathroom?”
“Right. Sorry. You want me to latch the door?”
“Please.”
She ducked out and closed the door, then found the one she’d wanted in the first place and locked herself in there to pee and answer an increasingly important question. She couldn’t wait any longer to know.
Perhaps a Bulls party was not the ideal location for this activity, but hey, Becker had already fucking blabbed his dumb mouth around, apparently.
Sage had been to only a few Bulls parties, and only two at the clubhouse. The club had a reputation for wildness, but to her, they mostly seemed like a big family that had big family parties. Where they gossiped like a bunch of maiden aunts.
Certainly today, a kid’s cookout birthday party at Apollo and Jacinda’s house, was nothing more than a family gathering. The music was pretty loud, and the beer and whiskey flowed, but there were almost as many children as adults, and at least half the adults were focused on the kids. Not just the women, either; none of these big bad men seemed to mind crawling around on the ground with their kids.
Sage had never experienced a family like this one before. Every minute she spent with the Bulls made it more clear that she’d never had a family at all. The life her mother had made was a deformed version of this—and the Bulls were fucking outlaws. They went out on the road and did who knew what with, and to, who knew whom, and still they were more normal and functional than anything she’d ever known.
Who would she have grown up to be if she’d had so many people looking after her, loving her, making sure she was safe and well? Who would her kid grow up to be in this family?
If she was pregnant. Time to know for sure.
~oOo~
When she opened the bathroom door, Becker was right there, leaning on the hallway wall, his arms and ankles crossed.
He looked down at her hands right away. “What you got there, shortcake?”
“Biomedical waste.”
His laugh made the butterflies in her belly dip downward. Not the first time that had happened, and hopefully not the last—turning her worries into desires. “Is there a reason to keep that biomedical waste?”
“I don’t think I want to put it in the baby book, but I thought you might want to see proof.”
Oh yeah, she loved that particular grin. He pushed off the wall and made the one stride that spanned the width of the hall between them. Then she was in his arms, swallowed up tight, and his mouth was on hers.
A smile shaped his mouth before he let her up for air. She opened her eyes as he backed off a scant inch. His eyes twinkled. She’d read that line in books a hundred times, but this was the first time she’d seen it actually happen. Twinkling blue jewels. In her love of Becker, all the metaphors and clichés had come to make perfect sense.
“Well, this’ll be interesting.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, then added, feeling puckish, “It’s yours, by the way.”
He swatted her ass playfully. “Don’t even joke.”
“Couldn’t ever be more than a joke. I’m one-hundred per
cent yours.” Remembering that at least a few people here already knew, she slapped her hands on his chest. “You’re a big blabbermouth, though. Jacinda already knew before we even did.”
“It’s Gunner’s fault. He was saying there were only a few Bulls left who aren’t dads, and he said my name, and ... with what went on this morning, my game face slipped, and Jacinda knew.”
“Well, keep your game face on now. It’s Athena’s birthday. Our news is for some other time. Maybe when we know everything’s okay.”
“That’s not a bad call,” Jacinda said. She’d come out of Athena’s room, but she didn’t have the baby. “She’s sleeping,” she added as Sage opened her mouth to ask.
Becker kissed her cheek. “I know you can keep it quiet.”
“I’m invoking the partner clause. I get to tell Apollo, but he’ll keep it to himself for the same reason I will. Congratulations.” She rose up on her toes and hugged Becker, then came in to give one to Sage as well. “Now come on. Never take a nap for granted. Let’s get out of here.”
Sage turned to follow Jacinda back to the yard and the party, but Becker caught her wrist and pulled her back.
“I just want to say I’m happy, hon. And I love you.”
Becker held those words precious. They weren’t salt, commonplace and cheap, to be sprinkled over every moment of lust, affection, or simple goodwill. They were saffron, rare and valuable, and so full of flavor that only a pinch was enough. He loved her always, and he made her feel it, but he said the actual words only when he felt the love so hard he hurt.
Sage snuggled in close and felt it right back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Becker stood as Eight Ball was allowed into the visiting room. It had been a few months—shit, nearly six—since he’d last visited McAlester. The spring and summer had been packed solid with challenges and changes, and time had gotten away from him. He took his call every time it came, but otherwise, he’d let his friend languish alone in this godforsaken place.
Gargoyle, whom Eight Ball had sponsored, had ridden out here a couple times to check in. But no other Bull would take the time unless directly asked to do so. Eight Ball’s relationships with most of his brothers were fraught. He was the club’s black sheep, a role he’d cultivated himself. Any patch would have his back out in the world, but in here, he’d do his time largely forgotten.
He and Becker had been prospects together. Eight had come in a few months before Becker, but Becker had taken his patch first by more than a year. From the start, Eight had shown himself to be tough as old leather, loyal to the bone, and brave as hell, willing to do whatever—whatever—was asked of him. But he’d also shown himself to be reckless and mouthy, acting out over little shit and getting his ass handed to him by the patches on a regular basis. Even as a prospect, he’d quickly built a troubling reputation among the sweetbutts for unnecessary roughness and a nasty sense of humor. So the Bulls had been slow to give him a patch.
Becker had intervened on his behalf with Delaney and Dane, because he knew where all that belligerence came from. He understood it, and he knew how to temper it. They’d forged a tight bond when Becker had begun to put himself between Eight Ball and trouble he’d made for himself.
Eight Ball had been a lost, lonely kid, an orphan raised harshly by an aunt and uncle after his single mom’s death when he was five. He was tough and belligerent and reckless because there were only two ways kids raised in abusive homes could deal with that kind of pain—try to avoid it or try to deserve it.
Becker, until the day he’d picked up an iron, had tried to make himself small and unnoticeable, to avoid the pain. Eight Ball had decided to deserve it.
The first tack built empathy, Becker had learned over the course of his life. He read people well and anticipated their needs because he’d had to read and anticipate to have the best chance to avoid trouble. The second tack built ... well, Eight Ball. Charging headlong through life, heedless of the consequences.
It looked like he was going through his prison sentence just the same. He was even bigger than he’d been in the spring, and his left eye was showing the marks of a week-old bruise. After just more than a year inside, he already had three new scars on his face that looked to be permanent, and who knew how many more on his body.
His limp was better, though. He’d been hit by a driver on the interstate a few years back, which had sent him and his bike skidding at speed over the asphalt and done real damage to his leg, requiring several surgeries, including skin and muscle grafts, to rebuild it. Since then, the leg hadn’t been the same—smaller and weaker than the other, and stiff and misshapen. He’d limped badly since. Now, as he crossed the visiting room, the limp was noticeable but also noticeably smoother.
As Eight neared, Becker took a couple steps toward him and held out his hand. “Hey, brother.”
“Hey, Beck.” They shook, and took seats at the wobbly table.
“You look good, bro. Damn, you do anything but work out and punch people?”
Eight chuckled. He was missing a couple teeth now. “Not much else, no. Not like I’m gonna read the through the library like you did.”
Eight Ball was the only person on the planet besides Sage who knew any detail at all about his prison experience—and he didn’t know more than a few random facts that had fallen out over the course of a years-long friendship. Only Sage had pushed past his reticence, her curiosity and unquenchable thirst to know what she wanted to know breaking down his barriers.
There was a wise old soul inside that little young body. And that soul was persistent as fuck.
“How’s the station comin’?” Eight asked.
Becker groaned. The stress of that rebuild was making him an old man. “Slow, bro. We got hit with another stoppage last week. They found some trouble with the natural gas line, and they tore up the concrete they just laid. Now it’s lookin’ like we won’t be done before winter.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly. But things aren’t all bad. Work is smoothing out. And I got some news of my own.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I ...” Now that he’d started the line of conversation—which was, in fact, one of the primary reasons he’d made himself set aside time he couldn’t afford for this visit—Becker was reluctant. What was happening in his life would be another thing that put distance between them. “I got an old lady. Put my flame on her. And, well, put my kid in her, too.”
Eight’s jaw dropped open, showing that gap where his canine and first molar should have been. “Say what now?”
“Yeah. Crazy, I know.”
“Fuck, Beck. I talked to you a few weeks back.”
“Didn’t feel right to say it on the phone. Too many people in our business.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. Still, this’s been goin’ a while, I guess?”
“Little while, yeah. We just found out about the kid last week.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.” Becker chuckled as he answered the same way he had earlier, though his meaning was entirely different.
“I know this chick?”
“Nah. She was a neighbor. I helped her out, and ... anyway. She’s young, bro. Twenty.”
His old friend threw himself back in the aged plastic chair and guffawed. “You old dog! Shit. You can keep up with that?”
Laughter in this drab, humorless place was an unexpected boon. “Fuck you. Of course I can.”
Eight’s humor ebbed slowly. Still smiling, he asked, “You said you knocked her up, too?”
“I did. First try. Kid’ll come around spring, I guess. She hasn’t seen a doc yet.”
“Fuck, Beck. The whole club’s hooking up. I don’t see what y’all see in it. There anybody left without a chick? Besides me?”
“Fitz is getting married this weekend. Wally’s got a steady girl, but she’s not keeping his flame yet. Gargo’s the only other patch still a free agent.”
Over the past few years, the club had changed from almost al
l the men single to almost all family men. Over the same span of years, the club’s work had become steadily more dangerous. It wasn’t a great correlation, more people to keep safe from a greater danger, but Becker meant to find the balance that had eluded Delaney.
“Gargo don’t count. I don’t even want to see the woman who’d want to hook onto that weird ugly fuck.” His chuckle this time had a lonely tinge, like an echo. “He’s like me.”
“You never know. Maybe there’s a chick out there can tolerate your obnoxious ass.”
Eight made a face. “Yeah, I’ll pass. I like my pussy disposable.”
“Damn, you’re an asshole, bro.”
“Yes I am. Took me years to get it just right. No point givin’ it up now.”
~oOo~
Fitz and Kari had planned to get married outdoors, in a garden at Woodward Park, but spring and fall in Oklahoma meant tornadoes, and their October wedding landed on a blustery, chilly, wet day with tornado watches coming one right after the other. So they ended up crammed into the small but pretty room set up for the reception, and said their vows under the flowered arch by the cake table, while wind rattled the French doors.
Hopefully this wedding wouldn’t go spinning off to Oz.
Becker and Sage had talked about marriage one time, the night they’d found out about the baby. He’d brought it up, asking if they should, and her face had screwed up like he’d shoved a lemon in her mouth. No, she didn’t want to get married. She would, if he really wanted it, but really, what was the point?
As the president of the club and manager of the station, Becker spent big chunks of his days buried in bills and tax forms and insurance claims, and all manner of payables and receivables, so he had a few ideas about why they ought to get married. Especially with a kid on the way. But all this—the cake and the dress and the flowers? All the people staring, waiting for a performance? It made his skin crawl, honestly. Old habits died hard, and Becker despised being the center of attention.
Painfully ironic that he’d ended up at the head of every damn thing.
He’d spent his time at Fitz and Kari’s wedding watching Sage, gauging her reaction to the festivities, testing her words against her attitude. And she really didn’t like all the fuss, either. While Kari’s friends, and the other old ladies, oohed and aahed over her dress, and how cute their little boy, Quentin, was as a ring bearer, and how handsome Fitz was in his suit, and anything else that caught their eyes, Sage had stood back a little, a soft, noncommittal smile on her face—an expression he now knew to be Sage On Her Best Behavior. He smiled, imagining the rant she might do on the way home.
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