“What’s changed?” Pierce asks, taking the photograph from me.
“Nothing much, apparently,” I grunt.
“I know you loved mom, but it was different. You were different. It would be like me finding someone at eighteen. That relationship would be so fuckin’ different than what I have with Kentlee. We’ve lived a whole life without these women; we’ve experienced things—and fuck, Pops, we’ve done crazy shit. But I learned how to be a man from you, and I learned how to love a good woman from you,” he sighs before he tips his head back to look at the sky, effectively making me feel like a shit. “Get your shit together.”
He walks inside of the house, but I stay exactly where I am on the front porch, leaning heavily against the railing, praying to fuck it doesn’t break under my body, sending me flying forward and busting all of my stitches wide open.
I need to get my shit together, and I need to do it quickly. Mary-Anne is gone, but she’s safe. I need to heal, and I need to really think about her, about us, and figure out if I can live with the fact that I put her in the danger that I did.
Fuck.
I already miss her.
I am such a goddamn fuck up.
I’m too old for this shit.
I sigh as I roll over in bed. I’m surrounded by pink and purple sparkles, and I’m just about completely over it. It’s been three weeks since I walked away from Maxfield, and I miss him. I really, really miss him.
I look down at my stomach. It’s still fairly flat, just a little bloated looking; but inside, it’s rolling and I know as soon as I sit up, I’m going to have to spring to the bathroom.
Hopefully I only have three more weeks of this sick business, then I can feel semi-human again. But part of that will be moving out of my niece’s room and getting something on my own. I can’t stay here much longer. I also can’t hear my brother fucking his wife for another night. It has to stop.
I slowly get out of bed, making it to the bathroom just in time, then I brush my teeth and wash my face before I make my way downstairs. Brentlee is standing at the stove making breakfast when she turns to me with a big lazy grin on her face. Gross.
“Morning,” she practically sings.
“Hey,” I grumble, flopping down on the chair next to Stella, who is happily eating some eggs and toast.
“Has he called?” she asks, like she’s asked every single day for the past three weeks. I shake my head, taking the plate of food from her outstretched hand.
Brentlee has turned into Suzie homemaker. Seriously, I never imagined it in a million years that she would be such a fantastic mother and wife, but here she is, being absolutely awesome. I love that for my nieces, but I also adore that for Bates. This house is everything ours wasn’t growing up. It’s warm, it’s safe, and it’s full of love.
“He’ll call,” she says with a little less hope than she had the day before.
“He won’t,” I shrug.
I eat in silence before I excuse myself to shower and get ready for the day. I’ve pouted for three weeks, it’s now time to get it together.
Today, I’m going apartment hunting.
I suck back another shot and look around the clubhouse. I probably shouldn’t be drinking yet, but fuck it. Whores are naked and doing their thing, the new girl, Serina, is fucking gorgeous, and the bitch loves taking it in the ass. My guys are all too happy to oblige.
Torch slides up next to me, the demons still fucking bright in his eyes, and I wonder if he’s been working on what he came here to work on—or if he’s being a pussy, like me.
“It’s been three weeks,” he points out.
“You fix your shit here, yet?” I ask.
“Workin’ on it,” he grunts before he stands up and looks down at me. “You stood up to her brother, your brother; you claimed her, you knocked her up, and then you let her walk away. Not the kinda man I thought you were, Prez. That’s the kinda shit we pull when we’re still punk ass kids, not men.”
Torch walks away from me, effectively punching me in the gut without even touching me.
I take my phone out and look down at it, unlocking it before I click on the photo icon. The last picture I took was of Mary-Anne. She’s smiling at me, her hair long and her face makeup free. She looks fuckin’ gorgeous.
I close my eyes before I pour myself another shot.
Then I stumble upstairs and pass out in my bed, alone.
The next day, I wake up and look around. I’m hungover as fuck, but one thing is the same as it was yesterday, and the day before—I miss her. My feelings for her, they haven’t wavered, not in the slightest.
I love her, more than I’ve ever loved another woman. I was stupid to try and talk myself out of it, trying to do that by accusing her of carrying another man’s kid, talking myself into that shit all on my own.
Fuck, I’m a dick.
I stand up, walking over to my closet. I haven’t been back at my house since Fury and Kentlee left, after they decided I was good to be alone again—that I wasn’t feeble and weak anymore.
I left the house immediately after their car was out of sight and I came down to the club. I couldn’t be alone in the house without Mary, without my sweetness. I take some clothes out and stuff them into a small bag before I make my way downstairs.
Grease is lying on the couch, a naked Serina passed out on top of his large frame. I kick his leg and he startles awake, almost dropping the skinny bitch on her ass.
“I’m heading out of town for a few days,” I grunt.
“Get your woman and bring her ass back,” he chuckles.
“On it.”
I walk away from my club and make my way to my bike, alone. I can’t remember the last time I traveled alone, but I have to, for her—for us.
I’m going to have to crawl on my knees and beg her to come back to me. I’m going to have to grovel, and no way in fuck can my men see that shit.
I turn my nose up at the shitty apartment. It smells, and I think there’s a dead rat in the corner, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to go check it out for confirmation. I look over at the real estate agent and thank her.
I’m done.
Everything she’s showing me is shit, and I’m assuming it’s because the minuscule town of Bonners Ferry, Idaho doesn’t have a lot to choose from.
I technically have another two weeks left on my apartment in San Diego. I could go back there and live like nothing’s happened. But Mr. Clark is there. Blind and broken dick aside, he still scares me. He’s still in the hospital in northern California, and under arrest, but he’s obviously crazy. I really don’t want to live completely alone in a city anywhere near him anytime soon.
I drive to the clubhouse, knowing that this is where Bates wanted me to drop his car off. He has to pick up Stella from school later today, and he won’t do that with his bike. He’s all about safety with his girls, and that is another reason I love my big brother and the way his life has turned out to be—it’s perfect for him.
I don’t pay attention to the parking lot, my surroundings, or anything really as I make my way inside the club. I see Grizz sitting outside smoking, and I wave in his direction. He lifts his chin in his own manly greeting, and I continue on inside.
I don’t realize what I’m looking at, it doesn’t register right away, but my body completely freezes at the sight. Standing in the middle of the room is Max. Well, the profile of him, and Kisha wrapped around him like a fucking octopus. Her arms are around his neck, her legs around his waist—in a skirt—so her most likely non-panty covered pussy is rubbing against his shirt.
Something angry and primal comes over me, and I take Bates’ keys, rearing my arm back and throwing them as hard as I can at the bitch’s head. It feels extremely satisfying when she lets out a screech, Max’s head swings to me, and I watch as he not only drops his hands from around her waist, but also pushes her off of him, causing her to land on the floor—hard.
“Mary,” Max says as he takes a step toward me.
>
“Oh, fuck no,” I scream before I turn around and start to run.
I don’t know where I’m going, but fuck this bastard. I take off in a sprint, as fast as my sandaled feet can take me, and I run toward the gate. The prospect standing guard looks at me, then looks past me to where I assume Max is.
“Open the gate,” I yell.
“Open that gate and I’ll fuckin’ shoot you,” he growls from behind me.
He’s closer than he should be. I’m thirty years younger than him, no way in hell should he be able to catch me.
I feel my breath leave my lungs in a whoosh when he wraps an arm around my ribs, and another around the front of my chest, gently pulling me to the ground, taking on the impact with his own body. I struggle to get out of his hold, but his arms tighten around me.
“Go,” he barks above me.
I hear booted feet scurry away before I break free.
I’m not free for long, though. Max is above me, his knees holding my legs closed tightly and his hands wrapped around my wrists, holding them against the ground.
“You asshole,” I scream in his face.
“Fuck, sweetness,” he hisses as he lowers his head down so that our faces are only centimeters apart.
“Yeah, fuck. Fuck you,” I grind out, still trying to break free from his grasp.
“Oh, I’m gonna do that too, Mary,” he whispers before his lips are on mine.
I try to fight him; dammit, do I try. But when his teeth nip my bottom lip and I gasp, his tongue fills my mouth, and I have no choice but to accept him.
I moan on the second sweep of his tongue, and then one of his hands breaks free and gently cups my jaw.
“Get off of me,” I grind out as soon as he breaks our kiss. He rears back slightly as though I’ve physically pushed him.
“No,” he states. “I love you.”
I snort at his words. Words that, three weeks ago, meant something to me—no, they meant everything to me. Now, they’re just words, spoken on deaf ears, and I don’t want to hear them. I shake my head and turn to the side, wishing I were strong enough to push him off of me.
“I love you, sweetness,” he whispers against my exposed ear before he trails soft kisses down my neck. I can’t stop my stupid eyes from crying.
I hate him and I love him all at the same time, and it makes me hate him a little bit more because of it. I was happy with him. For a second, all was right, and then he took it all away, stomped on it with his boot, and watched me leave him. Now, weeks later, he’s back, and I’m supposed to just hug him and forgive him? Well, fuck that, and fuck him.
Max stands and then reaches down a hand to help me up. I grasp onto his hand, my only intention to have the help up and then to run, but he anticipates my move and squeezes my fingers tightly before he yanks me forward. Without a word he drags—yes, drags—me toward the clubhouse.
Once we’re inside, I look up and see Bates is standing in the bar, his keys in hand, and his eyes focused on us.
“Bates, help me,” I cry out. He shakes his head once.
“That’s your Old Man, Mary-Anne,” he states. Instantly, I feel betrayed.
I don’t voice my betrayal by screaming at my brother. There’s no point. These men all follow the same fucked up, macho man, caveman code.
Max drags me toward the bedrooms, and once I’m inside the room we stayed in last time, he throws the lock closed behind him and tosses me toward the bed. I stumble but land on the soft cushion with a bounce.
“I fucked up,” Max announces with his hands on his hips and his legs braced inches apart. He lifts his blue eyes and I see nothing but dirt stains and regret all over him. Still, I stay silent. “I came here for you, to get you back, and to bring you and our baby home. That bitch attacked me as soon as I walked through the door,” he announces. I glare at him.
“Honest to fuck, sweetness, she jumped up on me a second before you walked through that door,” he murmurs.
Then he does something I’ve never seen him do before, not ever, and something I never imagined he could do. He walks over to me and drops to his knees before he yanks me a bit closer to the edge of the bed, his hands wrapped around the outside of my hips. He buries his face in my lap and, I swear to Jesus, he cries. Well, maybe there are no actual tears, but he starts breathing really heavily.
“Max,” I murmur as I hesitantly lift one of my hands and run my fingers through his hair.
I suck in a breath when I feel his head move, and his lips touch my stomach. Then he lifts his head, and his eyes lock with mine. I’m a bit disappointed to see that there are no tears in his eyes, but the fact that they are glassy makes me feel a tad better.
“Not lettin’ you go,” he murmurs. “Not lettin’ my baby go. Not when I almost lost you.”
“I thought it wasn’t yours,” I say as my breath hitches when his hands press against my stomach.
“It’s mine,” he states.
“It is,” I agree.
“You’re mine, too,” he mutters as his lips touch mine. “You’re mine, and it’s my fault you were almost taken from me.”
“Maxfield…” I start so say. He presses his lips to mine and it shuts me up.
Stupidly, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck to twist my fingers in his hair, and he gently tugs off my clothes, leaving me in nothing but a bra and panties. I let him do it, too, not able to control myself once his lips have touched my dirt covered skin.
“All of you is mine, sweetness,” he murmurs against the top of my breast as his hands quickly unfasten my bra.
I suck in a breath when his lips wrap around my nipple, his teeth nipping my sensitive bud. I arch into him, my stupid body adoring the way he makes me feel, even the simplest touch. He kisses down the center of my chest, making his way to my stomach, and then he stops. His hands span the sides of my waist, warm and gentle as he tips his head back and looks into my eyes.
“Fuckin’ hell, Mary,” he rasps. “Fuckin’, fuckin’ hell. We did this. We made a baby.”
He’s looking at me in a way that I can’t describe, as if the world is brand new, and I’m this mythical, mystical thing that he’s never encountered before, and he can’t believe is really right in front of him.
“Maxfield,” I whisper.
Max’s hands wrap around the backs of my knees and he lifts them up, causing me to fall backward on the bed in a soft thump. Then he rips my panties off of me, spreading my legs immediately as his mouth begins to devour me.
He doesn’t take his time.
He doesn’t lick and slowly tease me with his tongue.
No, he sucks, he thrusts, he nips, and he sucks, causing my eyes to roll in the back of my head and my pussy to clamp down as I cry out with a sob, my release coursing through me like a bullet train.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” Max murmurs against my skin as he crawls up my body, divesting himself of his cut and his shirt on the way.
I run my hands from his strong stomach all the way up to his shoulders, grazing the angry red patches of skin that are still healing from his bullet wounds. He guides himself inside of me, and then his lips graze my own healing bullet wound. I whimper as he stretches me. He’s so big, filling me to a point where I feel like I’m going to explode, and I love it.
“I hurt you physically, and then emotionally, and for that, for that I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Mary,” he whispers as he slowly makes love to me.
There’s no urgency and no rush. Nothing but he and I, breathing and staring into each other’s eyes. It’s different than every other time, and his apology, the words, I’m sorry—it’s almost more than I can take.
“Baby,” I murmur.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Mary. If you’ll have me back,” he whispers as his hand wraps around the outside of my knee. He spreads me a little wider and holds my leg a little higher.
“Maxfield,” I moan, feeling him hit even deeper inside of me, filling me with each thrust of his hips
. I never want him to stop—not ever.
“Fuck, Mary, fuck,” he groans as he buries his face in my neck.
“This isn’t fair,” I sob as my body starts to shake beneath his. I’m close, so damn close.
“I never said I was a fair man,” he grunts as he grinds his pelvis against my clit and then pumps a little harder with each thrust of his hips.
I sob out with my release. It washes through me in one, fast rush, and I know, I know without a doubt that I will always forgive this giant asshole of a man, because I love him. I love him so fucking much.
He stills inside of me and I feel his cock twitch before he throws his head back with a moan. He doesn’t stay planted for long, choosing to pull out and then drag me on top of him, my face in his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against the top of my head. “I fucked up big time.”
“You did,” I agree before I look up, pressing my chin into his chest, careful not to let it rest on any of his healing injuries. “You fucked up, but I just walked away. I gave up,” I whisper.
We’re a pair, my Mary-Anne and me; but she’s mine, and that’s all that really matters.
“We’re done with this,” I mutter.
“Yeah,” she agrees before she smiles.
It fuckin’ does me in, that smile of hers. It could fuckin’ melt the hardest man on earth, with the coldest heart.
I tuck some hair behind her ear and grin down at her. I can’t believe I almost lost her, over nothing but fear.
“Sent some boys to get your shit from your place in Cali,” I grunt.
“What?” she breathes before she’s straddling me, her hands on my chest and her hair falling around our faces like a black, soft curtain.
“I had them leave the furniture, but they packed everything else, and it should be at the house waiting for you by the time we get home,” I say.
Her eyes widen and then her face breaks out into a huge fuckin’ smile. Christ, my cock twitches just at the sight of her so damn happy.
“I can’t believe you did that for me,” she whispers, leaning further down, pressing her forehead to mine as she closes her pretty blue eyes.
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