Drawing the wrap back, exposing a puff of the boy’s dark, almost black hair, Kat traces a finger down his tiny cheek. “He’s yours, Ryker. There’s no way you can deny him.”
Kat
It’s been many years, so I’m not sure Ryker even remembers, but this little one looks so much like his sisters when they were born, aside from the hair color. I know, I know, you’re probably thinking, “All babies look the same, Kat. You’re projecting.” But I’m not. His eyes are the exact same color as Ryker’s, Kade’s, Bear’s, Scarlett’s, and Roxie’s. That’s how I know with my whole heart that this baby’s his.
When Ryker doesn’t respond to my declaration, I push harder to make him see the light. “He has your eyes and chin.” Adjusting so he can get a good look at the baby’s full face, I notice the instant he sees the cleft. His eyes widen as if he didn’t expect that similarity.
Reaching in with a single finger he touches that unique spot then yanks away as if the infant burned him. I frown, and re-cover the sweet angel, shielding him from the narrow gaze of his confused father. A week old and he’s been dismissed more times than I care to count. All because they lack faith, or choose to deny the truth. No child deserves that.
“The chin doesn’t prove he’s mine, Kat,” Ryker argues, his finger lightly tracing lines on the top of my thigh.
Well. No. I suppose that’s true.
I shrug one shoulder. “Not completely, but he looks like our daughters did when they were born.”
“Most babies look alike, and our daughters have blonde hair.”
See, I knew he and everyone else would say that. However, with Vanessa and Ryker both having dark hair what else would this angel come out with? Blonde, like me? Hardly. This isn’t magic. It’s genetics.
“Why must you and Kade fight me on this?” I counter with a huff.
“Because, babe.”
That’s not good enough.
“That’s a mom answer. I think I deserve a little more than because. Don’t you?”
“Of course you do. I just… look… I know you’re attached to him. He’s a cute little guy. I can see why you would be. But I gotta get a paternity test done to show he’s mine before I’m gonna put my heart in it.”
“Because you don’t think he’s yours,” I add for him because we all know that’s the case. He can’t put his heart in when he doesn’t, in his heart, believe the baby’s blood is his. Just like Kade doesn’t, and from the way Bear’s been acting, he doesn’t either. What a crock of shit. All three of these sorry suckas are gonna feel terrible when a simple, albeit pointless DNA test proves them wrong. Look at his chin. His eyes. Hold him for a while. Then tell me he doesn’t feel like family.
Ryker scrubs a hand over his bald head, obviously not liking where this talk’s leading. “I don’t know either way. Fuck, babe, don’t get mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I intone, wanting to roll my eyes, slap him, make him see the light… something.
“You’re a horrible liar.”
He’s right, there’s no use in denying it. “Okay, fine. I’m upset. Everyone keeps blowing him off like he’s not a person, too. Well, he is. And his mother died. Your wife died. Does that mean nothing?”
Everyone keeps acting as if she doesn’t matter. Nobody has said squat about her, mourned her death—not a damn thing. Two days after her death I got a call from the coroner’s office asking what to do with the body. Me. The ex-girlfriend. How they got my new cell number, I don’t have a clue. Didn’t ask. What did I do? I called Dad, and he called somebody else, and somebody else contacted somebody else to find out she has family up in New York. I had no idea she didn’t have any here. I guess I just assumed she did. They cremated her remains per the family member’s instruction. I guess, because I didn’t speak to the family. And someone in the club is transferring her remains up there. That’s all I know. When I argued that they should probably keep some of the ashes for her son; you know, for when he grows up and wants to know more about his mom, because that’s what a decent person would do, they blew me off. Fucking assholes, the whole lot of ‘em. Now can you see why I said this week has been shit… shit… and more shit?
“You want the truth?” Ryker tests as if I’m gonna say no.
“Of course, I want the truth.”
“Alright. You want the truth, I’ll give it to you straight up. No bullshit.” He pauses a beat, scrubs a hand down his handsome, stubbly face, groans like this is the last type of conversation he wants to have, then pulls up his big boy panties and carries on. “I never loved Vanessa, Kat. Then I began to resent the hell outta her as time went on. Once she ratted out you and my club, I hated her guts. So her bein’ dead is no skin off my back. I’m glad she’s gone. One less thing for me to have to deal with.”
Wait… what the ever-lovin' fuck? How can he say that? No skin off his back? That’s cold, even for him. Who says that about someone they married? That woman, he cares nothing about, carried his son for almost nine months. Whether he believes this baby’s his or not. He is. Then she died the same damn day he was born. She wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but at least I have the decency to feel sorry for the poor soul. And even more so for her son, that’ll never get a chance to know her. It’s heartbreaking.
A fresh wave of anger boils my blood at his callousness, washing away the remnants of the life-altering kiss we shared moments ago. “You can’t be serious. His mother’s dead and you’re happy about it?”
Ryker scowls. “I didn’t say happy.”
Tossing both hands up, exasperated, I’m ready to beat his ass. “She was your wife.”
“Not the one I wanted,” he counters with no remorse.
Seriously? He’s going there?
“Yet, you married her anyway.”
“Because I was stupid.”
Oh, smart guy, he’s got a good answer for everything. Well la-de-freakin’-da.
Unable to sit a moment longer in fear I’ll break his nose with my fist, I slide off the mattress to my feet. Turning toward my… Asshole, I shake an enraged finger at him, my tone rising half a dozen octaves. “I… I can’t believe you don’t care she’s dead. She has a son she should be caring for.”
Ryker lifts his chin defiantly, returning a smug, “That would be better off raised by someone like you who’s a fine mother, than an attention whore like her.”
I know there’s a compliment nestled inside that statement somewhere, but I’m too peeved to give two shits.
“People change when they become mothers, Ryker. You don’t know what kind of mother she would’ve been,” I argue as the munchkin on my chest wakes with a start, thanks to my big mouth. Patting the sweetheart’s back, I sway my body side to side to try and lure him back to dreamland. Way to go, Kat, arguing in front of an infant. Not my finest moment.
Mr. I’ve-Got-An-Answer-For-Everything isn’t done. “No. You’re right. I don’t know what kinda mother she would’ve been. But that doesn’t change my opinion that he’d be better off in this world with a woman like you takin’ care of him. You have more love and compassion in your pinky than she did in her whole damn body. You might not like the way I feel, Kat. But you wanted the truth, so I’m layin’ it out for you. I dunno how many times I gotta tell you that you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved in my life. The only one that I’m ever gonna love. You’re it for me. Have always been it for me. I know this little boy means somethin’ to you. And if he turns out to be mine, he’ll mean somethin’ to me, too. Until then, like I said, I can’t put my heart in it.”
“Why can’t you forget the paternity test and put your heart in it now?” Dammit, why am I on the verge of crying? This baby is so easy to love. If they’d give him a chance. They’d see how amazing he is.
Ryker’s face softens as he offers me a sad smile. “Babe, do you honestly think it would be right for me to claim some kid simply because his mother’s dead?”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“’Cause he’s got a f
ather that might not be me. I wouldn’t want someone robbin’ me of a chance to have my kid. What kinda man would I be if I selfishly kept him for myself without findin’ out the truth? Not only for my sake, but the boys’. He also deserves to know who his real dad is. I’m not sayin’ I would hate if it was me. I’m sayin’ I wanna know for sure, for everyone’s peace of mind.”
Son of an ugly monkey’s uncle, why does he have to make sense? Why can’t I stay mad at him? He’s right. I can’t believe I said that. But it’s true. He’s… right. Ugh! I don’t want for him to be right. It is selfish of me to want Ryker to keep the sweet angel without a blood test. I’m ashamed to admit I never thought about what another man might be missing out on, if he’s not Ryker’s. Even though, I’m positive he is. The chin seals the deal for me. It’s only a matter of time before I’ll be dancing circles around Kade and Ryker doin’ the ‘I told you so’ dance. Until then, I’ll care for the baby and let Ryker keep his distance without getting too upset about it.
Defeated by the craptastic week I’ve had, I perch myself back on the side of Ryker’s bed as the squirmy worm begins to make loud sucking noises trying to devour his tiny fist. Sideways glancing at my ex, I gesture to the kid. “You got a problem if I take him out?”
“Of course not. By all means.”
Not needing to be told twice, I reach one hand inside the wrap, get a safe hold on the cutie pie and extract him. Pushing my luck a little, I lay him on his back beside Ryker, so he can stretch a bit in his Superman footie pajamas, courtesy of Grandpa Ghost. Which he does as soon as he’s put down. Arms go out, legs stretch wide, he yawns the sweetest yawn. Then those baby blues pop right on open for his dad to see. What does Ryker do? He stares at him, mesmerized. Part of me wishes he’d touch him, or maybe have him hold his finger. That’s a pipe dream, I know. But ya can’t blame a girl for hoping.
As I rub the little guy’s tummy, his slender fingers go back to his mouth. Hopefully, Kade and the girls get back soon with his formula. He needs to eat, and I’m not producing milk yet to feed him. Trust me, I’ve tried pumping. Not much comes out. So he’s going to have to wait to get breast milk whenever daughter number three is born. I should have plenty to share with the both of them.
A comfortable silence descends upon the space as both of us focus our attention on the wide-awake infant. Ryker’s eyes swap to me every now and again before they resettle on the boy. Minutes tick by, and I find myself relaxing, the former tension bleeding from my muscles. It feels good to simply be in the same room with the two of them.
“Have you named him?” Ryker whispers tentatively.
Um… is this a trick question? Should I lie and say no? Probably not.
“In private, I have. But I dunno if he’ll be allowed to keep the name I gave him, so I’ve kept it between the two of us. He’s not gonna tell anybody. It’s our little secret,” I mumble the last part, smirking.
Ryker snickers. “You wanna let me in on your secret?”
Keeping up the silly secretiveness, I continue to whisper. “Can I trust you?”
“Always, babe.”
My heart thumps faster as his admission does mushy things to my insides. Nope, now’s not the time to swoon. Although, it’s not my fault Ryker still looks edible enough to eat after he almost died. Who in the hell goes from being in the ICU for days, lookin’ pale and half dead… to this? The dark scruff on his face is so deliciously overgrown I can’t help but wonder how it’d feel between my thighs. Yes, I’m that twisted in the head. When I should be asking how he’s feeling, I’m picturing his lips sucking my clit. Pathetic. Plus, the hair on his head is just starting to grow back in. Which shouldn’t be sexy, yet, is. The man has a cast on his leg for cryin’ out loud, and bandages all over the place, and I still wanna kiss those lips, straddle that trim waist, and ride him like a prized bull. Oh God… I can’t believe I just admitted that. Stop thinking, Kat. Stop your damn thinking. I’ve always known my attraction to Ryker was illogical. Picturing him naked as he sits in a hospital bed saying sweet things to me is bordering on disgraceful. Gah! I’ve gotta keep it together.
Ignoring my body’s reaction, I slip a finger in the baby’s hand. He wraps his fist around it in a strong grip. Avoiding eye contact with Ryker, I gather the courage to tell him what I’ve been calling his son when we’re alone. Let’s pray he doesn’t hate it, because I really want him to keep it.
“I…um…” Nervous beyond measure, I stop to clear the tickle in my throat. “I—I named him Walker.”
Before I can chance a sideways glance at Ryker’s reaction, a gruff burst of all-consuming laughter fills the air. What in the world? How’s his name funny? Am I missing something here? Eyeing my ex like he’s lost his damn mind, I watch him lose it. On and on he busts a gut, his face pinched, tears leaking down his mottled cheeks. He pauses a brief second to catch his breath before losing it all over again. Pressing my lips together I force myself not to smile or chuckle alongside the lunatic. Unfortunately, the way the laugh lines on his face crinkle, as he lights up a room with that deep, sexy melody, it’s difficult to remain impassive.
Holding his stomach, he gasps, “Oh. Oh. God. I. You gotta warn a man, babe. I. This hurts. Fuck!”
Crossing my arms over my ample chest, I rise both eyebrows to my hairline. “What’s so funny? Huh?”
The bastard downgrades to a chuckle. “You named him…” He chokes on a half-laugh. “Walker.”
Summoning my inner snob, I tip my perky nose toward the ceiling like a British aristocrat with a superiority complex. “So?”
I happen to think it’s a perfect name.
Ryker wipes the wetness from his face using the corner of his blanket. “You… you named him after your childhood crush.”
“I did not.” I lie.
“You so did. Crybaby Walker. Oh. My… Just when I think you can’t get any more fuckin’ cute, you go and name a kid that might be mine after a biker in a cheesy as fuck movie.”
Harrumphing, I wrinkle my upturned nose, displeased. “It’s a good name,” I grump.
“It’s perfect,” he agrees.
Wait. What? I wasn’t expecting that.
“It is?” I ask, disbelief hugging my words.
Ryker jerks a firm nod leaving no room for interpretation. “Hell yeah. You named Scarlett after Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. Roxie after Roxie Hart from that old ass play you like. Now you’re gonna name him,” he juts his chin toward the infant, beaming fondly at me, “Walker, after fuckin’ Crybaby Walker.”
“Crybaby’s name is Wade Walker, I’ll have you know. And I like Walker not just because it’s from one of my favorite movies when I was a kid. I also love it, because… well…” Maybe I shouldn’t say. He’s only gonna make fun of me again.
“Go on, babe. Say it,” he urges with a grin.
Unsure, I nibble the corner of my lip. “I don’t think I should.”
“Come on.” He nudges my hip with his leg.
Expelling a long-suffering sigh, I concede. “Fiiine. My grandma and I used to watch Walker Texas Ranger when I was young. We always thought my dad sorta looked like he could be brothers with Chuck Norris. Of course, that was before his hair grew out and he got all those tattoos.”
Ryker taps his chin with two fingers, contemplating. “Hmmm, I guess I never thought about it before. But your dad does kinda look like Chuck Norris in the face and body. They don’t share the same hair color, though.”
Bobbing my head in agreement, I add, “And, Walker ends with k-e-r like Ryker does.”
Laying his hand atop mine that’s resting beside Walker on the mattress, Ryker squeezes my fingers gently beneath his. Meeting my gaze, he quirks a tender grin that ignites a kaleidoscope of dancing butterflies in my chest. “It’s a perfect name, babe. You did good.”
Pride swells.
Guess now’s not the time to mention I gave Walker the middle name Van in honor of his late mother. Walker Van Knox has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?<
br />
Instead of trudging up more about Vanessa, knowing it’ll irritate Ryker, I stay the course. The one that flitters warmth throughout my middle.
Staring at our joined hands, I mumble, “Do you think he can keep that name if… you know…”
“If he’s mine? Of course, sweetheart, you can name him whatever you want. Just like our new baby girl. I don’t care what name’s they get as long as you’re happy with them.”
Sigh…
Why does he make it so hard to hate him? After all we’ve been through, I should despise the air he breathes. Yet, all I want is to love him with my entire being. Is that foolish? Yes. My brain knows it is. While my heart sings a beautiful song that calls to only one other heart in the galaxy—Ryker’s.
Another stretch of comfortable silence descends upon the room as we seem to get lost in our thoughts. Mine—of us, our children, Walker, and what this means for my future. Do I belong here? Could I belong here? Am I happy? Now that the girls know Ryker’s their dad, how does that change things? There’s so much to think about… to decide. And if I did wish to stay, would he want us to? Is that a long-term option? What about my home in Indiana? It seems as if my family moved across country overnight to settle in a place that feels more like home than ever before. Not because of the cabin, which is wonderful. But the people. Home is where the people you love are. And the majority of the ones I love are here. Strange isn’t it? You picture your life one way, only to be thrown in a different direction without any foresight.
Minutes tick by at a leisurely pace as Walker gets antsier for food. His fingers won’t cut it much longer. Reaching in the top of my shirt, straight into the left cup of my bra, I extract my phone with no shame. These leggings are pocketless, and I hadn’t planned on staying long enough to need a purse or diaper bag. I left those tucked under the seat in the pickup along with the keys. There’s a giant Sacred Sinner’s decal on the rear window of the truck, nobody would dare touch it, or so I’ve learned. Most tend to give it, and me, a wide berth. Not that anybody would want to steal a raggedy old Chevy anyhow. It’s a piece of shit.
HOPE TRILOGY BOX SET: Sacred Sinners MC- Texas Chapter Page 48