Loving Crow (Unsaintly Kings MC Book 1)

Home > Other > Loving Crow (Unsaintly Kings MC Book 1) > Page 7
Loving Crow (Unsaintly Kings MC Book 1) Page 7

by A. Lynn


  He brings his knuckles to my chin and raises my head so he can see my face. He glances from my eyes to my mouth and back. On the second pass over he must have decided something because he frames my face with his hands and brings his mouth to mine. His lips are so soft and inviting. I open for him instantly and he takes full advantage, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. The soft massaging of his tongue is like nothing I have ever experienced before. His taste has me moaning like we were already fucking, but I guess we are in a way because the way he is thrusting his tongue in and out of my mouth, has my panties damp.

  I feel myself moving closer and trying to climb him like a fucking tree, and Crow is assisting in my climbing pursuits until someone clears their throat behind me. Fucking cock blocker! I quickly pull my head back and look over my shoulder to see the nurse coming to tell us visiting hours are almost over. I look back at Crow to see a smug ass look on his face. Fucker. He gives me a chaste kiss and walks down the hall.

  “I’ll get with you tomorrow. Are you working?”

  “No, it’s my day off.”

  “Good,” he says and turns around to leave, but not before I catch a glimpse of a shadow running down his thigh. A very big shadow. Good to know I’m not the only one affected. I stand there and watch until he is out of sight. The voice in my head says high five and seeing as how I’m not a rude ass bitch, I say, “High five.”

  I startle and jerk my head when I hear, “Good for you, girl!” And wouldn’t you know, Nurse Cock Blocker has her hand raised.

  I look at the nurse’s raised hand and with Crow’s smug smile on my face and say, “I know right.” Huh… maybe I am a rude ass bitch after all. I head back to Ryan’s room, where it suddenly falls because—you know—life sucks.

  Lord, give me the strength to not choke the fuck out of this bitch.

  I quietly walk into Ryan’s hospital room and sit back down in the chair I have been sitting in all night. Then I stare at her until she says something. The tension is so thick that she cracks quicker than I thought she would.

  “Please say something." I don't. "Reagan?" I cock an eyebrow. "I know what you're doing, Rea." She doesn't—I have never been this angry at her. "I'm sorry, okay?" Doubtful. "Did you hear me?" I shrug. "I'm really sorry." I take my phone off the charger and walk back out into the hallway to inform the nurse that she is awake.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, I just want to let you know that Ryan Walker is awake. Is Dr. Sanchez still on?”

  “No ma’am. She left a little while ago and won’t be back until the morning.”

  “Is there anyone here who can tell Ryan what’s going on?”

  “I’ll call Dr. Carver. He’s who came in to relieve Dr. Sanchez.”

  “Thanks,” I say as I make my way to Ryan’s room. I don’t go in this time, I sit in the hall and wait for Dr. Carver to get here. Thankfully, I had my phone with me, because it was almost another hour before he showed up.

  Me: Ryan just woke up. Waiting for the doctor to come speak to her.

  Sasha: Good. Is she ok?

  Me: Far as I can tell.

  Sasha: Thanks.

  “Hello, I'm Dr. Carver. The nurse tells me that you would like me to speak with Ms. Walker about her situation?"

  “Please. I don’t want to give her any information that is not right.”

  “No worries. Shall we?”

  “I'll wait out here if it's all the same to you. I don't think I can handle hearing it again.”

  “That’s understandable. Excuse me,” he says and walks into the room and closes the door.

  I shoot to my feet when I hear the door open. I’m not one hundred percent what I expected to see on his face, but it definitely wasn’t humor.

  “What is the smile for, Doctor?”

  “Ryan, she’s funny.”

  “You were supposed to let her know how she almost died. That she overdosed. Anything that would inspire her to get clean. She should have been scared, not cracking jokes.”

  His smile promptly drops and he questions, “Ms?”

  “Reagan.”

  “Reagan, it has been my experience that if an addict doesn’t want to quit, then they won’t. No matter how many times their vice lands them on their deathbed, they have to want it. And for the record, I did tell her how dire her situation was and is. She just wouldn't hear me. Tried to convince me that this was only a one-off and that she won't do it anymore. Do I believe her? Absolutely not. Will it happen again? Sadly, it probably will."

  “What do I do now, Doctor? How can I fix this?”

  “I’m sorry, but there is no way that you can fix this. The only thing you can do is give her a healthy dose of tough love and hope she sees reason. Good luck, Reagan. You’re going to need it.”

  “Thanks.” He nods and makes his way back to the nurse’s station.

  As I walk in the room, I demand, “Do you really think this is the best time to be cracking jokes with the fucking Doctor, Ryan? I’m mean for real?” She opens her mouth to say—no doubt some stupid shit—but I shut her up with a hard glare. “How funny is it, Ryan? How fucking funny do you think it is that I found you half dead in your fucking bedroom? Would it have been fucking funny if it was our son that found your stupid fucking ass?! Thank God I decided to drop him at Sasha’s when I had to leave work early because you failed to pick him up at preschool five other motherfucking times?”

  “Reagan…”

  “Shut the fuck up, Ryan. Each time I hear your voice I want to choke the shit out of you. What the fuck were you thinking? Huh? Just getting that next fix? How could you be so selfish? What about J?”

  “I said sorry.”

  “Are you, though? What are you sorry for exactly?”

  “I don’t know… all of it?”

  “Was that a motherfucking question?”

  “No?” She pauses, “So what do we do now?”

  “What the fuck do you mean? We aren't doing anything. Your dumbass is going to rehab,” I snap. This stupid bitch just said we...

  “Um, no, I’m not.” See... stupid fucking bitch.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “No.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because I don’t need it.”

  “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with? If you don’t need it so fucking bad, then why did I find you half dead with a needle hanging out of your arm? And that’s another thing… when the hell did you switch to needles?” A tear breaks free and streams down my cheek before I can slap it away.

  “Don’t cry, Rea.”

  “Stop trying to kill yourself…”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “That’s what you’re doing every time you put that poison in your body. That’s why you’re going, so we can put this behind us and move on.”

  “I said no, Reagan.”

  “Don’t force my hand, Ryan. Please.”

  She just shakes her head.

  I look at her with disappointment. “If you won’t fight for yourself, then I have to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I look away for a second to steel my resolve. When my eyes meet hers again, I say, “Either you go to rehab or pack your shit and get the fuck out of my house. I’m not going to watch you kill yourself.”

  She looks wounded when she says, “You would kick us out?” I shake my head and she sighs.

  “Not Jordan,” I pause, “just you.”

  “He’s my son, Reagan.”

  “In the eyes of the law, he is just as much my son as he is yours. And fuck you very much for saying that shit!”

  She sits silently looking at me like I did something wrong. Like I’m coming out of the pocket with the rehab shit. Like I’m the one slighting her in some way. I would do any and everything for Jordan. But would she? I don’t think so. Not right now anyway.

  So, I sit here holding my hands and praying that she makes the right choice here. I don’t want to choose between her and Jordan, but I will if I have
to.

  “Fine. I’ll go to rehab.”

  “Thank God! I know it won’t be easy, but I will have your back every step of the way.”

  “Great,” she says dryly.

  “We’ll get through this hurdle and move on, Ry.”

  “So when do I leave?”

  “I made reservations at Emma B. Rehabilitation Center in Albuquerque, New Mexico. They have a three to six-month program, the only problem is that they didn’t have a bed available until next Friday. Can you wait until then or would you like to see if I can find a program for sooner?”

  Her eyes bug out and she says, “I can wait until next week. It will give me some time with Cooper before you force me out.”

  “Is he the most important thing to you?” I pause then say, “And it’s not like that and you know it. I’m not forcing you out, your actions are.”

  “No, it is. If I don’t go, I’ll be homeless. But whatever.”

  “I’m trying to save your life before it’s too late. I want to help you,” I sigh.

  “Did you ever think that maybe I don't want or need your help? That, just maybe, I am finally living for myself? I'm finally happy and you are just trying to shit all over it. Just mind your own business."

  I ignore the ire she is raising in me and instead say, “So, I can either drive you or I can book us a flight.”

  “I’ll just get Cooper to take me.”

  “I don’t know if that is such a good idea? I don’t trust him to make sure you get there.”

  “Of fucking course you don’t. Fine, a flight then. I wouldn’t make it in a car with you for that long.”

  Ouch.

  I squeeze her hand and say, “I’m sorry, Ryan. But this will be good for you in the long run.”

  “I know,” she says with a tight smile. “I’m tired.”

  “Okay, babe. I’ll be right over here if you n…”

  “Could you just go? I just want to be alone right now.”

  “Oh. Sure. I'll come to see you tomorrow. Do you want me to bring Jordan with me?"

  “No, I don’t want him to see me like this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Reagan, I’m sure.”

  “But you’re not going to see him for a while. I would think that you would want to spend as much time with him as possible.”

  “Stop it, Reagan. I can make decisions by myself. I don’t need your input for every little fucking thing!”

  Chastised, I say, “I know you can, I—”

  “Did you bring my purse?”

  I nod. “I needed your insurance cards.”

  Nodding, she asks, “Can you get it for me?”

  “Sure. There’s nothing in there, is there?”

  “No, but feel free to look,” she snaps.

  So I do.

  Nothing in it but her wallet, a notepad, and her phone. The unease in my mind settles so I hand it over.

  “Do you mind leaving me your charger?”

  “Sure,” I whisper. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yup,” she says with her face turned away from me.

  She’s mad, but I have zero fucks to give. I would rather her be clean and mad than dead.

  Chapter 5

  Crow

  “What are you up to tonight?” I hear as Tex plops down on the couch beside me.

  “Not much. You wanna get together and braid each other’s hair? I’ll do better this time, I've been practicing,” I say while nodding with wide eyes and a huge smile on my face.

  “Fuck you, asshole. You pulled my hair too much last time.”

  “I thought you liked it rough?”

  “Only in the bedroom,” he pouts.

  “Sometimes the two of you make me regret all those sleepovers you used to have,” comes from the bar.

  “What’s wrong, Colt? You jealous? You know I like you best,” Tex says, making me chuckle.

  “Not even close, dick. I am satisfied with my woman’s pussy.”

  “The fuck, Pop?! I don’t want to hear anything about Ma’s pussy.”

  “But what a fine pussy…”

  “Lalalalalalala….I can’t hear you!” Childish? Abso-fucking-lutey!

  “On that note,” Tex says as he gets up and walks away. A small tremor making itself known to us.

  “Fucking pussy,” Pop says with an evil grin on his face. Raising an eyebrow at me, he asks, “Are we even sure his ass likes pussy?”

  “I think it’s safe to assume he does. He used to be out of his mind for Skylar, remember? That was probably the real reason for the sleepovers.”

  “Fuck, Crow! Don’t make me fuck that boy up!”

  “Calm down, Pop. Nothing ever happened and you know it. I would have walked him years ago. And besides, Sky has only ever had eyes for one man—not that he ever noticed.”

  Pop moves to the couch beside me. “Speaking of your Ma, she said you got yourself a girl.”

  “I hope so,” I say with a smile. “It’s not too much of anything right, now apart from texting. We’re still in the ‘getting to know you’ phase.”

  "I wouldn't rely on texting to get to know each other, son. So much can get lost in translation.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Obi-Wan. I'm not completely inept, you know."

  “When it comes to getting your dick wet in a club slut, maybe, but when it comes to someone you want for more than just fucking—which Stella tells me is the case—you are. You have never had to work for it.” He shrugs.

  “We got to hang out for a couple of hours. I like her a lot, Pop. She’s feisty and didn’t hesitate or care to put me in my place last night when she got pissed. I just… I don’t know.”

  “You’re just what?”

  “She’s got a lot going on right now and I don’t want to add to her load,” I sigh. “I just want this more than I have ever wanted anything.”

  “That’s how it’s supposed to be, Crow. We are meant to ease the load they have any way we can.”

  “How am I suppose to do that, Pop?”

  “I don’t know, son. It’s different for every person. You’ll figure it out. Your Ma said something about her roommate overdosing on heroin?” I nod and he asks, “She shares a child with the roommate, too, right?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure which is the birth mother, though.”

  “Does it matter? A mother is a mother regardless of the cause. Just pay attention and you will figure out how to help her.”

  “Thanks, Pop.”

  He stands and says, “It seems your mother and your sister know her already. I expect you to bring her around soon.”

  “Sure Pop,” I say as I pull out my phone to text my girl.

  Me: We still playing?

  She doesn’t respond immediately, so I slide my phone back into my pocket and head out to the garage to work on this custom paint job I’ve been stressing over for the last couple of weeks. It is a gift Ashley Nunez—a friend from high school—commissioned for her husband, Chaz, to celebrate their third anniversary. It’s a replacement gas tank for his twenty twelve Harley Softail that I have airbrushed to a vibrant electric blue. It kicks fucking ass if I do say so myself.

  The work that I am going to do now is a portrait of the two of them on one side and a picture of their daughter, Casey, on the other. It’s been a pain in the ass because the images have to be drawn by hand, and I am certainly not that type of artist. So to say that I’m fucking ecstatic when my phone chimes from my pocket, is an understatement. Pulling it out, my smile gets bigger when I see that it is Reagan.

  Baby: Maybe. Does that count as your question?

  Me: Only if that’s considered yours.

  Baby: Touche. What are you doing?

  Me: You know, just being dope as fuck. How did it go with Ryan last night?

  Baby: Better than I thought it would, that’s for sure. She agreed to go to rehab… Thank God. I actually just got back from seeing her.

  Baby: You doing anything tonight?

  Me:
Not much. Was wanting to see you.

  Baby: You were, huh? Tonight’s not ideal for me, though. J was with Sasha all night and the majority of the day, so we are hanging out.

  Me: Okay? I could hang out with you two.

  Me: Unless you think it’s too soon for that?

  Baby: You want to?

  Me: Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. Besides he’s a part of you and I want to know you.

  Baby: We have always shied away from bringing guys around him. You know, so he doesn't get attached if it doesn't work out.

  Me: You trying to get rid of me already, baby?

  Baby: What?! No!

  Me: Good. ‘Cuz I wouldn’t let you anyway.

  Me: So what do you think?

  Baby: We were just about to have dinner and watch a movie… Want to join us?

  Me: I do. Want me to pick up some pizza?

  Baby: If you want. J only eats cheese, though, ok?

  Me: Are you picky, baby?

  Baby: Not really.

  Me: Ok, I will get some pizza and be there soon.

  Baby: See you soon.

  Baby: Hey!

  Me: Yeah?

  Baby: J doesn’t know that I am his mom, too. He calls me Aunt Rea or just Rea.

  Me: I got you, baby.

  And just like that, my night starts looking up.

  One hour later…

  I’m standing on Reagan’s porch, after ringing the bell, and all I hear is a screech and tiny feet padding closer to the door. As the door cracks open, I hear an indiscernible yell from somewhere deeper in the house.

  “I’s gots it, Wea!”

  “Jordan Eric! What have I told you about opening the door by yourself? You’re too handsome, baby,” she reasons. “They might want to keep you.”

  “You’s siwwy. I’s hi-yaws dem,” he says, making a chopping motion with his hands. “Who you’s?”

  “Jordan! That’s not nice,” she scolds.

  “Sowwy,” he says, as he rolls his head around with wide eyes. After he looks me up and down like he wants to kick my ass, he asks, “Is dat peeta for me’s?”

 

‹ Prev