With only Ronnie and I left in the room the doc smiles, and pats Kellen’s foot, covered by the white hospital blanket. Kellen doesn’t even stir having fallen into the first deep sleep since he was admitted hours before.
“Obviously, we would like to test the both of you first. The highest likelihood of a match lies between the biological parents and the child.”
A hiss escapes Ronnie and I can tell what she’s thinking before she speaks.
“Kellen’s mom is my twin, Doctor Bellingfield. She’s not available for testing but we are identical. Is there a chance that I might be a match, even though I’m not his mother?”
She’s pleading him with her eyes to give her good news, and when he smiles warmly at her, I know he will. “Certainly. In the case of identical twins, your DNA is an exact replica. If Kellen’s mother were to be determined a match, so too would you.”
Ronnie sighs in relief and nodding she lays back down. “Good, good. That’s excellent.”
I have one last question before we get this shit started and begin testing on every man and his dog. Even if I have to find some extra fuckers to drag in here myself to ensure Kellen gets what he needs, I will.
“You find a match doc, can you do the operation here? Kellen’s got lots of family that’s going to want to be here for him. I don’t want to have to transfer him elsewhere, if we don’t have to.”
Nodding in agreement the doc replies, “We are equipped to handle the transplant here, Mr. Burke, I assure you we have everything in place to deal with Kellen’s condition. In fact, I am the consulting Nephrologist for this entire area. I consult here twice a week and happened to be doing rounds when your son’s case came in. I have been assigned as his treating physician and will make the necessary requests to have the surgical theatres available, as soon as we find a donor.”
There’s not a lot more to say. We know what’s wrong with my boy, and what we have to do. The outcome is yet to be determined, with or without a donor kidney, it doesn’t look good. Without finding a match soon, Kellen’s prognosis is even worse. All I can do is wait and hope. Both things I’m currently in short supply of.
Afterwards, Ronnie and I are tested along with Tank, Priss, Cage, Steel, Pipe, and Priest. Kendall is exempt, as it is too close after her giving birth to Wheels to be able to donate if she ended up being a match. Interestingly enough, Lou can’t be tested either. Steel approached me looking nervous as fuck, confessing he’s knocked his woman up again, meaning she isn’t a candidate, either. I can’t help but laugh at how bad my brother feels. I still can’t work out if he’s more upset Lou can’t be tested, or that he’s knocked her up, and now she wants to kill him. Regardless, the laugh I have at his expense feels good. It lightens my mood, even if it is only temporarily.
There isn’t any need to test further anyway. Ronnie ends up being a perfect match. Preparations begin immediately to perform the transplant, as soon as possible. I feel like the whole thing is going way too fast for me to let the ramifications of what this means to sink in. Talk about feeling torn in half. My son is going into one operating room and my woman into another. No man can be in two places at once, it’s physically impossible. Trust me if I could manage it, I would.
Turns out I don’t need to worry about that. Between me going to sleep on the cot in Kellen’s room the night before surgery, and checking on Ronnie that morning, she succeeded in convincing Tank to act as her security guard. I’m not pissed; I’m fucking livid. When Tank tells me I’m not allowed in Ronnie’s room, I seriously want to kick the shit out of him. If I was a stupid man, which I’m not, most days at least, I would take a swing at the big motherfucker, but I don’t. I can’t promise the wall outside her room in the hallway will survive unharmed, though.
Tank does his best to explain, as does Priss, that Ronnie just needs some time to get herself together before surgery. Apparently, Ronnie isn’t scared, she hasn’t cried, and she’s more than ready to get this over and done with. This in no means gives me any measure of relief. I’m sure anyone put in my position or a similar one, will agree that not being able to talk to the one person that means the world to you before something like this, is paranoia inducing. Questions like: Will she make it out okay? What do I do if something happens to her? and Does she know I love her? All go through your mind, mixing dangerously with everything else you’re feeling too.
The risks and complications are explained to me by Doctor Bellingfield. He is lucky I don’t jump across Kellen’s bed and strangle the fucker. Violent urges seem to be my go to method for coping at the moment. Rejection, haemorrhage, infection, adhesions, bladder weakness; the list goes on. He may have said a lot of them are uncommon or rare, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. There’s a remote chance one or both, might not make it out of surgery. That thought is more than I can bear.
God, or whoever the fuck willing, recovery time for Kellen will only be about two weeks until he’s feeling a fuck ton better. Ronnie will take longer, probably around four weeks, and that’s only if everything goes to plan. Still, that is significantly better than what I initially thought. I mean shit. The two of them are having organs removed. In Kellen’s case both his kidneys are being replaced by one of Ronnie’s. I have it in my head that it will be months of recovery to look forward to. Thankfully, the doc put an end to that line of thinking.
Sandra and Dave, Ronnie and Verity’s parents, showed up three days before the operations were scheduled, to check on their daughter and grandson. With them they brought the knowledge Verity has known about Kellen’s condition since before he was born. Apparently an ultrasound at twenty weeks showed Kellen’s developing kidneys already bore the trademark cysts of PKD. She was offered treatment straight after his birth, but for some reason none of us could figure out, she declined. PKD can be inherited in some cases, and Verity herself had suffered with a mild form KPD when she was younger. Verity’s KPD was cured quickly and permanently, using the non-invasive method of diet only.
Knowing that Verity was aware, this whole fucking time that Kellen was sick, and not once seeking help, brought me to an entirely new level of rage. It became all consuming, unignorably violent, and engulfed everything in its path. I needed an outlet. So Tank gave me one. Fighting it out with Tank in the ring that night, left us both with a few bruises, feeling worse for wear, and me at least, exhausted. I can’t thank the big man enough for knowing exactly what I needed, in order to relieve some stress, and for not pounding me into the mats, too badly.
Watching them wheel my son away looking so small and frightened on the hospital gurney makes my feelings of helplessness return a thousand fold. I thought it was bad before, that has nothing on this. I’m assuming no parent has an easier time of it, but placing your child’s life in the hands of virtual strangers, trained or not, is not easy. More than that, it goes against every cell in my body trained to protect the ones I love. It takes trust, too. Trust, I simply don’t have.
Exponentially worse than all of that…
Finding out Ronnie has been discharged into her parents’ care three days post-op, leaving without so much as a goodbye, guts me. Ronnie left the hospital. She left Blackwater. Fuck, she left me. She’d just fucking left, period.
It ended up being six months before we saw her again. In that time, there were a lot of changes for our friends and family. There is one thing that will never change, though. No matter the time or distance she puts between us; my love for her is unconditional, unwavering, and always will be.
In that time, life kept going. Everything kept moving forward. Tilly turned sixteen, Lexi six, Anna one, and Kellen wasn’t far off his ninth birthday. Wheels was crawling, and Lou was nearly fucking insufferable in her seventh month of pregnancy.
Unexpectedly, fuck knows how, he won’t share the details with us, Pipe ended up with Selena. They started living together within two weeks of becoming official. I still think it looks fucking odd seeing a thirty-five-year-old woman with his forty-eight-year-old ass, but whate
ver floats their boat. They seem pretty fucking happy, so that’s all that matters.
Priss still works at Mo’s, but added doing the books for all the MC’s legit holdings on top of her shifts there, making her busier than ever. I honestly don’t know how she fucking does it. Priss makes everything look effortless, in the sense that she can juggle six things, never dropping the ball. I have enough trouble corralling one fucking eight-year-old, let alone what she does.
Kendall went back to work part-time at Skin Fusion six months after Wheels was born. Ronnie had been gone three months, by then. She joined Adelyn, who is still working as a full-time artist, evening out the numbers of men versus women. There was still some weird vibe coming from Reaper about Adelyn’s presence at the shop. Most days he looked either ready to throttle her or himself. Reaper’s honestly acting like a fucking menopausal woman over this chick. I’m in fucking good company with him.
Brenna keeps all our shit together, as usual. The woman is relentless when it comes to keeping us in line. Priest still works with Vengeance, in an effort to uncover whatever the fuck Satan’s Sons are up to. Glock became a fully patched member a month ago, which brought about an epic fucking party that I couldn’t even bring myself to enjoy. That is pretty much all there is, when it comes to MC news. I know, it’s fucking sedate around here. Boring almost.
Tank took off suddenly a couple of months ago and hasn’t been right since he got back. I don’t even want to hazard a guess at what his fucking damage is. Chances are he’d rip my fucking head off in the mood he’s in, if I even mentioned it, so I leave it alone. He’ll come to me when he’s ready, and if he’s not, I’ll be here anyway when he needs a smack in the fucking head to pull him out of it.
Oh, yeah. I almost forgot the thing that has all the brothers, family, and friends the most baffled. Tank and Priss haven’t spoken since Tank’s little trip to fuck knows where. Like, not a single word. It’s fucking strange and isn’t sitting well with me. One minute, Tank’s giving her a hug goodbye before he gets on his bike, the next, he refuses to be in the same fucking room as her. He dodges her calls, doesn’t answer her texts, going as far as to drop Tilly off curbside, waiting in the car until she makes it safely into the house.
There’s something brewing there. The shit storm Tank has created for himself is going to be like nothing he’s ever experienced. My guess is Priss won’t let this go on for much longer. It won’t be long before she storms his room at the clubhouse and reams his ass. I can only hope I’m around when she does. That shit is going to be explosive and make for an awesome fucking show. Tank will deserve every bit of her wrath, too.
Kellen started junior league football, a few months ago at his request. I’m sceptical whether it’s a good idea after the major surgery he’s undergone. Doctor Bellingfield gave his assurances that it is perfectly fine for him to resume normal activities, so I relent, as my son knew I would. So far we haven’t had any issues, and his team, The Blackwater Eagles, have won every game. Kellen beams with pride, and comes out of his shell at the accolades he receives after each game from his friends; him being the quarterback and all, doesn’t hurt. This is exactly what I want for him when I say he needs to make friends his own age. Being on the football team is giving him that.
And me? What am I doing? I make it through each day. Just, but I do. There was one last person I didn’t cover…
Verity. I think it’s better if she tells you her side.
CHAPTER TEN
Verity
I know what you’re thinking. I’m a horrible person: awful, hateful, vindictive, and to a point, you may be right.
No debate required, I’d openly admit I’ve made some bad choices. I got myself into some situations, one in particular, that I had no idea how to get myself out of safely. Let alone my son, too.
Most of you will have formed opinions of me already, based on what my sister, or Nathaniel has told you. You will have decided that I’m a poor excuse for a mother, that I don’t love my son, or I would never have left him in his time of need. Maybe you’ll think that I neglected him, and kept him from his father to be spiteful.
You would all be wrong. Dead wrong.
I love Kellen as much as I’m capable of loving another person. That might not be enough for your liking, but it’s all I’ve got, and I gave it to him freely. I have sacrificed more than you will ever know to keep him safe, alive, and I hope, whole.
You’re probably plagued with so many questions. I don’t know if I have enough time to answer them all. You’ll have to make do with what I can tell you for now.
Patrick McMillan is not the man he portrayed himself to be when I met him. Back then, he appeared debonair, handsome, wealthy, and I suppose outwardly he is still all of those things. None of that was the problem. The problem is what’s underneath the façade. What he works tirelessly in public to conceal. Patrick built circles of friends that benefit him. He makes nice with politicians, and congressmen to advance his career. Jesus. He plays golf with the goddamn governor of Texas. All this is a ruse to shield him, if any of his “extracurricular activities” come back to bite him in the ass. He is an egotistical, self-centred asshole, and that’s putting it nicely.
My first mistake was meeting Patrick. My second was allowing him anywhere near Kellen. My third mistake was marrying him. My biggest mistake; bigger than marrying a closet wife beater, rapist, and sadist was to ask for help. Maybe I should rephrase that…
My biggest mistake was WHO I asked for help.
I had no one to turn to. My parents wouldn’t be able to help me. My sister hadn’t spoken to me in nine years. I had no friends to speak of, and relatives were out of the question. Patrick knew where they all lived, and I highly doubt any of them would have taken Kellen and I in, anyway.
Yes, I’m fully aware I sabotaged myself from the beginning. My selfish, cruel, and hateful behaviour isolated me. It is nothing less than I deserved. I honestly believe that and could live with it, but my son? No. He shouldn’t have to live with my mistakes. Kellen deserves better. Better than me. Better than the situation I have put him in. Better than all of it. I just had no idea for a long time how to make that happen, how to give him all of those things.
The smart idea would have been to go to Nathaniel. I knew where he lived the entire time. Yes. I told another lie to add to the running tally, when I told him that I had no clue of his whereabouts for all those years. Keeping tabs on a man in a motorcycle club is easier than you think. Once Nathaniel became a member, I knew he was permanently rooted to wherever the chapter he was patched into was located. I wanted, no, I NEEDED to know where he was at all times. Not for my sake, but for Kellen’s.
He will need his father soon. I could feel it before I knew it to be true. I can only hope Nathaniel will take him in, bond with him, learn to love Kellen how he deserves to be loved. How I can’t. That is my one wish. Kellen needs to know a love that isn’t measured or restricted. A love that is unconditional, free, all encompassing. I want my son to grow up with someone to hold him when he’s sad, pick him up when he’s down, and enjoy the beautiful, sweet boy he is every day. That isn’t me. I KNOW I can’t do that. I can’t be that person for him.
When I learned Veronica ended up in Blackwater, as well, the first thing I thought was its poetic, in a sense. The way they ended, the reason why would be the thing I’m sure would bring them back together. I couldn’t have been happier for them. Ronnie is capable of everything I’m not. It makes her the perfect choice to help raise Kellen.
We look exactly the same, but that’s where our similarities end. We are each other’s exact opposite: black and white, chalk and cheese, oil and water. All are apt descriptions of my sister and I.
The only reason I pushed Veronica away, hurt her on purpose, was spiteful and malicious was to keep her away from me. My darkness couldn’t infect her light. I wouldn’t LET it. Veronica is all that is good with the world. She’s a bright, talented, loving, sweet woman.
Do I hat
e myself for what I did to her? Yes.
Do I think back now I am where I am, and wish it could have been different? Yes.
None of that matters now, though. My son is safe with his father. Kellen is surrounded by a motorcycle club filled with men equally as dangerous as the man I was married to, if not more. Most of all he’s happy. From what I saw the last time Nathaniel and Kellen were together, Kellen is blissfully happy.
Back to Veronica, though; knowing she’s my opposite, knowing the size of her heart, and her ability to forgive. The fact that she is now in Blackwater, the same town as my son’s father, I decided it was time. Time to get the help I spoke of before. Time to escape my vile, cruel husband. Time to set my son free.
This is where I made my biggest mistake. The one I will take with me to the grave. Be that tomorrow, next month, a year from now, or in old age. This is one that will haunt me forever, until it eventually catches up with me and brings about my destruction with it. I met a man…
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