Mountain Misfits MC: Complete Box Set

by Voss, Deja

  Now, though, she’s nothing but ugly. Even her voice makes my skin crawl.

  “You don’t see it, do you?” she asks, pushing the little boy at me. He stares up at me with a hardened scowl on his face. A scowl that no child that age should know. His eyes are blue and his hair is blond, and there’s not a single doubt in my mind that I’m looking right at my son. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end, knowing that, for at least the last four years, there has been another one of me running around.

  “I see it clear as day,” I say to her. My hands are trembling. His face is dirty and so are his too-small clothes. I don’t know shit about kids, but I feel like he shouldn’t be so tiny. “How did this happen?”

  “You of all people need ‘the talk?’” she cackles. I want to slap that smile right off her smug face. I know when we were holed up together we fucked a lot, but she was so sick, so trashed all the time, I honestly didn’t think her body was capable of getting pregnant.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “You were too good for us, Hank. You’d moved on. You remember how you left me there that night, don’t you? I’ll never forgive you for that, you know.”

  I remember that night like it was yesterday. We had agreed to go back to rehab together after I damn near OD’d and realized I didn’t leave my home to come out here and kill myself. We had spent the last week using up whatever we had laying around, holed up, avoiding the world, avoiding our ‘friends’, stretching out that last dozen stamp bags of heroin so thin, as each one disappeared, the dread growing inside of us.

  Nobody wants to get clean, or at least, nobody wants to go through the process of getting clean. It sucks, it’s scary, handing all your power over to someone while you puke your brains out until you see Jesus is the fucking worst. Still, I didn’t want to die in this shitty apartment without getting a chance to see my sister one last time. That night, I went down the street and picked up a bottle of wine and some Chinese takeout. I figured if this was going to be our last night of ‘this’, we might as well act like a normal couple.

  Delaney’s normal was unlike most people’s definition though. I came home and she was sitting on that dingy red couch, tying her arm off. I could tell she was already high by the way her head was nodding, but the girl couldn’t get enough.

  I don’t know why, but it made me cry.

  I don’t know if it was because I knew she was holding out on me, hiding drugs from me that I so desperately wanted to do, or if it was because I knew she wasn’t serious, I knew I was going to have to face this alone. I didn’t even wait to hear her explanation, just grabbed my suitcase and walked right back out the door. I sat in my truck that night, battling my demons, trying to decide if I wanted to ride out the shakes, the vomiting, let myself get this sick while I waited to check myself into the clinic, or if I should just run back to her arms one more night just for the comfort of the fix I so desperately craved.

  “I almost fucking died, Hank,” she stammers. “You were going to let me die.”

  “Delaney,” I say, grabbing her arm, pulling up her sleeves to look at her track mark covered arms. “If I stayed with you, I would have died. You know that.”

  “You left me. You left me there to die with a baby inside me and no money.”

  I squeeze her wrist a little tighter, disgusted by what I think she’s telling me. “You knew you were pregnant?” If she had even an inclination that she was pregnant, then I have even more reason to hate her.

  “I didn’t think you’d want a kid. I thought you’d be mad. I thought you would throw me down the steps or beat me up. I didn’t even plan on keeping him, Hank.”

  I’m growing angrier by the second. Not just because she knows damn straight that even in our most fucked-up states, I’d never lay a hand on her in an aggressive way, but the fact that she’s saying this stuff right in front of this boy. He hasn’t said a word since they walked through the door, but I’m sure he can hear. I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack, my chest constricting. I let go of her wrist and begin to pace the living room, trying to figure out where to even go from here.

  “Why are you here?” I ask her, trying to stay as calm as possible. I can’t imagine what this kid has gone through, what she’s told him about me, and I don’t want to make his life any worse. Just seeing him standing there, watching my every move, soaking it all in reminds me of a time way back when I was just a little wide-eyed kid, already corrupted by the choices of my parents. “After all these years, why are you here? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I moved on, Hank. You left me with nothing. I had to do what I had to do.”

  I want to tell her she’s a selfish bitch. I want to scream in her face, punch the walls, go completely insane, but that little blue-eyed boy, following me around the living room as I pace back and forth, doesn’t deserve that.

  “I’m back now,” she says sheepishly, batting her eyes at me. “I want to get better, Hank. I want to get clean for you. I want to make this work. You know you’re the only man I ever loved.”

  I pick up the boy in my arms, holding him so that we’re face-to-face. I feel like I’m looking in the mirror. I never loved her, but this child, holding him close to me, it’s making me feel some type of way that I’ve never felt before. My life has changed in the matter of three seconds.

  How she could hold him like this and say I’m the only man she’s ever loved makes me rage even more. She’s too sick, she’s too selfish, she doesn’t love anyone or anything but herself. She’s always been that way, and now she’s using him to get something from me.

  “A boy needs a mom and a dad,” she says. “You know that. Neither one of us got to have that. Little Jesse deserves that. I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

  The front door swings open and there stand Esther and Azalea, both silent and wide-eyed, trying to read the room.

  “I can’t do that right now, Delaney,” I say. “I moved on, too. This is my fiancée, Stacy.”

  Chapter 17

  Stacy:

  Well that escalated quickly. Just yesterday I was nothing more than an inconvenient captive he had a sloppy one-night stand with, and now we’re setting a wedding date? I have no idea who this broad is, and I can only assume this kid is his, by the fact that he’s the spitting image of Hank, but what’s going on in front of me is too much for me to process.

  “Sorry,” I say, sliding off my shoes in the doorway. “I wasn’t expecting company. Do you mind explaining what’s going on here, honey?”

  Esther starts laughing so hard, she’s doubled over.

  “Knock it off, E,” Hank growls.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m assuming you’re Delaney?” She reaches out to shake the woman’s hand, but Delaney just stands there, unmoving. “You are, aren’t you? You’re the girl who’s been blowing up my phone for the last week?”

  She’s sizing the girl up, and even though Delaney towers over her, I feel like Esther is the tallest person in this room.

  “Come on, Delaney. You were so talkative on the phone. You can’t even say hello?”

  “Who’s this little guy?” I ask, walking across the room to check out the boy in Hank’s arms. “Do you have a name?”

  “Don’t talk to my son,” Delaney says.

  “I’m Jesse,” he says softly, staring at me with the same icy blue eyes his father has.

  “Are you hungry, Jesse?” The poor kid looks malnourished, dirty, and like he needs a nap. “We have lots of snacks in the kitchen.”

  He looks over to his mom, asking her permission with his face, and she nods. I take him from his arms, and Hank presses his lips to mine quickly. “Thanks, babe,” he says. I feel myself blushing. This is absolutely ridiculous, but if it means getting this little boy safe and taken care of, I’ll play this game.

  I figure the adults need to talk without Jesse here, and I don’t have the slightest clue what’s go
ing on, but I do know how to feed a kid. I’ll let these guys sort out the messy details.

  He hangs off me like a little koala bear, hugging me tight. I can feel his rib bones poking through his undersized shirt, and my heart breaks a million times over. I’m guessing by the way Esther is howling and the way Hank’s just standing there, braced in panic, that Jesse is probably a surprise.

  “What do you like to eat, Jesse? I didn’t have breakfast yet, did you?” I ask him, carrying him into the kitchen and propping him up on the counter. I open up the fridge and pull out a carton of eggs. “Do you like scrambled eggs?”

  “They’re okay,” he says.

  “What about pancakes?” I ask.

  “I love pancakes!” he says.

  “A man after my own heart.” I get busy whisking the batter and he watches my every move.

  “Do you have any pop?” he asks.

  “Pop? Oh child, you’re definitely from the north, aren’t you? You can have pop later. How about some chocolate milk. Or orange juice?”

  “Chocolate milk!” he shouts excitedly.

  “You have to be careful. I don’t have a sippy cup .” I pour a little bit of chocolate milk into a plastic cup and he chugs it down, gulping loudly.

  I think the poor guy is starving. I think there’s a lot of stuff wrong with this little boy, but I don’t want to scare him. I just want him to feel like he’s safe here. It’s going to take a lot more than pancakes and chocolate milk to sort out his mess of a life, but right this moment, it’s the best I can offer. Just a little bit of normal in a world of chaos that no child should have to know.

  “Does anyone want pancakes?” I shout out into the living room. I can tell by the way everyone is doing the loud whisper thing that they’re fighting. I’m just trying to be polite.

  Esther walks into the kitchen, eyeing Jesse curiously. She grabs a dish cloth and dabs some of the dirt from his face. She runs her fingers through his hair. He sits there, unmoving, silently watching.

  “You seem like a pretty nice kid,” she says. “I’m Esther. When’s the last time you had a bath?”

  “When’s the last time you had a bath?” he asks, smiling from ear to ear.

  “You got jokes, huh? You’re definitely my brother’s child. And you… what the hell are you doing making pancakes for baby, mom? You’re a pretty terrible fake fiancée if you ask me. Any normal woman would be flipping out right now.”

  “I was just being hospitable,” I say.

  “Yeah, well, your Southern hospitality is showing, if you know what I’m saying. Where’d you get that fancy accent, Stacy Smith?”

  I grab her by the wrist and pull her into the laundry room.

  “Stop, right now,” I say, staring her down. “All this personal shit, you and I will deal with that one-on-one. Right this second, though, we have a little boy who needs us.”

  “Who even knows if it’s his? She’s a fucking junkie. There’s a million blond-haired, blue-eyed guys out there. Goob wasn’t in his right mind back then. She probably just wants money or something.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You sound just like him.”

  I had a feeling he was a decent man this whole time, but the way he’s handling this situation is a true sign that maybe he’s not just some hardened criminal outlaw who only cares about himself and his club.

  We walk back in the kitchen, and Hank’s standing there, chugging chocolate milk right out of the carton nonchalantly.

  “Where’d she go?” I ask. He shrugs and wanders over to the cabinets, pulling out a big frying pan.

  “Does this just need cooked?” he asks, holding up the pancake batter. “I’m starving.”

  “Is she coming back?” I ask.

  He shrugs again.

  “Hank, this isn’t how any of this works. You don’t just get to take someone’s kid, no questions asked. That’s literally what kidnapping is. You need to get a paternity test and you need to talk to a lawyer. You need to go to court.”

  “I will,” he barks. “Get off my back. Can we please just eat some breakfast. I’m starving. I’m sure Jesse is starving.”

  “I’m starving,” Esther says.

  Just when I thought life couldn’t get any stranger. I’m making breakfast for my new fake family: a fiancé I never thought I’d have, a stranger’s child, and my kind of scary sister-in-law. To the three of them, this is normal, and that’s the scary part. I’m in way over my head here. This is a whole new level of bizarre, and I’ve seen many things in my day.

  Jesse helps Esther set the table, and Hank puts dishes in the dishwasher as I flip pancakes.

  “You want to talk?” he asks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry about all of this. Apparently you’re not the only one with a secret past.”

  “Do you want to talk?” I ask. So many hours and words wasted on who I am, he’s put so much effort into mining every bit of dirt from my life, and interrogating me, and all I know is that ‘he had a hard life.’ Maybe I need to stop talking and start listening. Maybe that’s the only way this is going to work.

  “I’m clueless, Azalea,” he says tenderly, brushing my hair from my eye. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Neither do I,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist, hugging him for the first time since I met him. It feels good. “We’re going to figure it out though. We’re going to make sure that little guy is taken care of.”

  “I’m sorry I called you my fiancée,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I just…”

  “You were using me to scare her off. It’s ok. Someday I might need you to return that favor.” Hopefully I won’t. Hopefully no more random people from our pasts are going to come knocking on that door anytime in the near future.

  Esther’s got Jesse hanging upside down from her arm and he’s laughing so hard he’s howling as she walks in on us in the kitchen.

  “Isn’t this cute,” she says. “Are we getting pancakes or not?”

  “Look at you,” Hank says to her, smiling as she tosses Jesse over her shoulder. “Isn’t that cute.”

  “He’s growing on me,” she giggles. “You still gotta talk to the lawyer tomorrow though. We have to make sure we do this right.”

  I grab the tray of pancakes and butter and syrup and carry it to the table and we all sit down together for breakfast. Esther helps Jesse cut his food and put on his syrup. Hank grabs my hand under the table and squeezes it, smiling at me. It makes my heart flutter. It’s such a strange scene, and yet everything about it feels so right.

  It’s like these people know exactly what this kid needs right now, like they’ve been training for this their whole life. I just hope I can live up to the task that’s just fallen in my lap. I might not be his mother. I might not be Hank’s fiancée, and I might not have any idea what tomorrow is going to bring, but I’ve gotten good at playing pretend, and right now, that is the kindest thing I can do for Jesse.

  Chapter 18

  Hank:

  I don’t know why I’m cool with just letting Delaney dump this kid on me. Esther’s right, there’s no proof that he’s mine other than the fact that he looks like me, and the timing kind of makes sense, but I just have this gut feeling.

  Maybe not that he’s certainly my child, but that there’s only one right thing to do in this situation. I know from experience that women like Delaney aren’t capable of raising a kid right. I lived that nightmare. If I can stop one kid from having to go through that, maybe I do have a purpose in this world.

  I know there are logistics that need taken care of, I know I can’t just keep him, especially if I’m going to have to worry about the day his mother shows back up on this doorstep and decides she wants him back, but right now, in this moment, I’m perfectly content playing make-believe. Pretending like, for once in my life, I have a perfect happy little family.

  After breakfast, the kid was so hopped-up on sugar he went completely wild, bouncing off the furniture like a ping-pong ball, doing cartwheels and
damn near climbing the walls. For some reason, it just made me laugh. He’s definitely fine at adapting to his surroundings.

  Not even once did he ask where his mother went. When she left, she told me she just needed some time to get her life together. She needed some room to breathe and she needed to try and get clean for good. She also hit me up for some cash, but I couldn’t bring myself to fork it over. I guess the only thing worse in my mind than spending my money on drugs for myself is giving it to someone else to do it.

  Do I believe her? Of course I want to, but hell no. If I never see her again, I’ll be perfectly content.

  I know I thrust a whole lot on Azalea today, but I guess we’re even now. I’ll keep her secrets if she helps take care of mine. Watching her talk to him, the way she seems to be able to read his mind, the way she bathed him and carefully hand-washed his clothes and hung them to dry while he ran around the house in one of my old t-shirts until he passed out on the couch, it’s like she’s a natural.

  “How are you so good at this?” I ask her softly, as she tucks the blankets up around him. “You have kids you ran away from?”

  “Kind of,” she laughs. “I used to work at a daycare center back home. I loved those kids like they were my own.”

  She looks so beautiful right now to me, it’s like she’s radiating light, like she’s an angel here to save us, to take care of me and my son. I can tell she’s exhausted by the bags under her eyes. She hasn’t stopped going since this morning, and she’s had a smile on her face the whole time.

  “You hungry?” I ask. “Thirsty? Do you want a beer or something?”

  “I’m going to take a long shower,” she says. “Then we can go from there.”

  The sun is starting to go down, and I begin to worry about what I need to do next. The spare bedroom is completely empty. I have no place to put Jesse. I can’t peel my eyes off of him as he sleeps. I know I’ve spent the last four years not even knowing he existed, but now that I do, I want to be there for his every breath.