Gunny's Pups: #10.25 (Rebel Wayfarers MC)

by MariaLisa deMora

  “It’s just…we’re all sad, Gunny. I can’t stop crying and neither can the girls. We…I just need you.”

  “Fifteen minutes, I’ll be there. Hold on, baby.”

  He could hear them when he parked the truck in the garage, picking out both girls’ shrill voices, Sharon’s a deeper rumble in contrast, but even through the monitor’s speaker, he could tell she was barely holding everything together. Fuck. Inside, he followed the wails to the upstairs nursery, seeing Sharon seated on the ottoman between the cribs, face in her hands, shoulders shaking. Cade’s eyes were swollen, and when she saw him, her unrelenting stream of “No bu bye,” changed to “Da da, no go.” Kitten’s cries slowed, growing softer, but he could see from her red face that she’d been screaming for a while. Sharon lifted her head, and the pain in her face nearly took his legs from under him. Girls will be okay, but she’s too fragile for this bullshit right now. He went straight to Sharon and picked her up, taking her place on the ottoman and settling her in his lap. Burying his face against the side of her head, he whispered, not sure if she could hear him over the kids, but hoping she’d be soothed in some way, “Baby. It’ll be okay.”

  “What if it’s not?” Her arms wound around his neck, holding tight as she pressed close to him. “Gunny, what if it’s not?”

  “It’s not like Jock took the dog to the moon, honey.” Cade stirred in her crib, rolling from her back to her belly, propping up on her elbows to stare at her parents. “He’ll be back to visit. We got two dogs of our own, honey. Tank…” He paused, casting around for the right words. “…was just on loan for a good, long time.”

  “I know we have dogs.” Sharon was still crying, cheek pressed to his chest. “But they aren’t Tank.” He glanced over and saw Cade’s chin starting to quiver again. Shit. “Tank was…he was ours, Gunny. You said it, he was our dog. Why did you let Jock take him?”

  Jesus. Sharon wasn’t making any sense now, and he could feel her quivering, shaking like she had a fever. Worried, he lifted a hand to her cheek, finding it chilled instead of hot. “Baby.” He stroked a hand down her back, pulling her closer. “Shhhhhhh. It’s gonna be okay.”

  “What if it’s not?” She returned to her previous question, and he felt her move, arching against his arm, pushing on his chest with both hands. Staring down into her face, the pain in her expression tore at him again, and he had to swallow hard to push the lump from his throat. “Gunny, I’m pregnant. What—” Fingers curled in his shirt, she pulled it away from his body and then thudded against his chest, impressing on him how deep her fear ran. “—if it’s not?”

  As he had been the night he brought Jock home from the hospital, Gunny was transported back to when Kitten was born, tasting the bright tears at the back of his throat at the sight of all the people waiting for him. Seeing Deke fearing to touch him, even knowing that all was well, too unsure what Gunny’s reaction would be to the news to risk it. Deke’s voice telling him, “They’re both okay. Gonna be okay. Sharon’s good, and the baby’s good, too. Bulldog’s got her, and you know he does.” Sharon’s exhausted and exhilarated face, lying quietly in her hospital bed, staring in wonder at the newborn sleeping in the bassinette nearby.

  “Bulldog.” His voice was rough, scraping at his throat as he forced the words out. “Bulldog knows what happened. He’s on guard with this little one. Bulldog—” He swallowed a shattered laugh at the idea that the man was called after a distant cousin of the mastiff. About right, he told himself. “—won’t let anything happen to you, or to this baby, Sharon.” He squeezed her with both arms, bending his neck to rest his forehead against hers. “He won’t, and neither will I, baby. That’s a promise you can count on.”

  She hiccupped, unblinking eyes staring into his. Gunny realized both girls had quietened. The room was silent except for the muffled jingling of dog tags as Rocky and Tank made their way upstairs. He watched her struggle with his words, trying to accept them but finding them wanting when held up against the depth of fear she had inside. A fear he hadn’t known she carried, but it made sense. She nearly died, our little girl with her. After everything life had thrown at her, Sharon had proven herself strong time and time again, but he knew better than most how those experiences could mark a person.

  Lips quivering, she flinched at the sound of her own voice when she asked, “You promise?”

  He didn’t pause, didn’t have to think because if it could be pulled or pushed into life, he’d do it for her. “On my heart, I promise.”

  ***

  Walking out of the doctor’s office, Gunny chuckled as he reached down to cup Sharon’s elbow, steering her back onto the sidewalk. She had a roll of black and white pictures in her hands, holding them up in front of them. Gaze focused on the pixelated images, she lifted them and pointed with one trembling finger. “Look, honey. That’s his winkie!”

  “Fuck, Shar. Don’t call it that.”

  Fingers working along the edges of the paper, she paused on another picture, her finger close to tracing along the curve of their little boy’s face. “He’s gonna be handsome, just like his daddy.” Back to the other picture, she pointed again. “Winkie!”

  Still chuckling when he folded himself behind the wheel of her van, he waited for her to reverently coil the images and tuck them into the depths of her purse before he asked, “You ready, baby?” She nodded, pulling her phone out and looking at the screen. “Everything okay?” She grinned, turning to show him the picture Jock had texted her, showing Tank, Tank, Rocky, Cade, and Kitten lying in a staggered row across the backyard. Jock had jumped at the chance to babysit, and when he walked in with Tank this morning, Gunny and Sharon ceased to exist for the two girls. “Looks like everyone’s having a good time.” She looked at him, a soft expression on her face and he leaned close, brushing his mouth across hers. “We’re havin’ a boy.”

  “We are.” She agreed on a whisper, her lips barely moving. “A little baby Lane. Injecting some testosterone into the Robinson household.”

  “Pretty sure the injecting part was done several months ago, babe.” He chuckled at her scowl, seeing echoes of Cade’s favorite expression. “God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. I love you, Sharon.”

  “Love you, too, big guy.”

  Bulldog had eased her fears, taking extra time during the ultrasound to show her the positioning of the placenta, optimal, according to him. He’d been practical, too, and Gunny knew Sharon appreciated it, talking through the statistics of a recurrence of the placenta breaking free like with Kitten. Those stats were low, so low it seemed an impossibility. But he’d addressed that, too, telling Sharon what to watch for and when to make a call. By the time they walked out of the office, she’d nearly been dancing circles around Gunny.

  At home, Gunny found the removal of Tank the Larger from the household was only slightly less traumatic this time, Sharon being the only female not crying. He distracted the girls with the promise of a bath, and once they were clean, fed, and down for the night, he found Sharon curled into a corner of the couch, chin in the palm of one hand as she stared at the dark TV.

  “Baby, whatcha watchin’?” He shoved his hands under her arms, lifting her as he sat and pulled her into his lap.

  “Nothing.” She yawned and leaned against him, nuzzling his chest. Chin to the top of her head, he held her and waited, knowing she wouldn’t have stayed up for him if she didn’t have something to say. “Gunny…” Her voice trailed off, then she continued. “How old are Tank and Rocky?”

  He lifted a hand, smoothing his palm across his scalp. “Fuck, baby. I don’t know. Less than ten. I got ‘em the same year. Why?”

  “I didn’t get to grow up with a dog. I always wanted one.” She wiggled and he groaned, enjoying the pressure of her ass rubbing on his cock as she snuggled into him. “What…how long do beagles and ratties live?”

  Now he knew where she was going with this and he didn’t like it. Didn’t like the idea of losing his pups, but he also understood it was inevi
table. Sharon was a planner, though, so it shouldn’t be a surprise she was looking to the future. “Fifteen or so, depending on health. What are you dancing around, Shar?”

  “Should we get a puppy now, before the baby comes?” She shrugged, the movement shifting her tits against his chest. “You know, before things get chaotic again?”

  “You want a puppy? What kind?”

  She was quiet for so long he wasn’t sure what to expect. Then she showed him how much the big dog had impacted her, too. “Mastiff.”

  “I’ll talk to PBJ tomorrow.” She relaxed in his arms, revealing by that tiny motion how tense she’d been leading up to that request. “See what he can find for us. You sure you want to introduce a chewing, gnawing, barking puppy to the house?” Her head moved, hair dusting across his shoulders as she nodded. “Okay, baby. We’ll see about a pup.”

  Chapter 5

  Gunny walked into the garage and angled towards the office, planning on getting a cup of coffee before he started back to work on the custom rebuild he was doing for one of the Chicago members. As he moved through the building, he scanned the bays, noting they’d all been straightened and cleaned recently. He let his gaze travel beyond and his feet came to an abrupt stop. Jock was in the bay next to his, a bagger up on the lift. What the hell? The man seemed comfortable in the garage, looking over his shoulder as he chatted with one of the Rebel OGs, Tugboat, who was supervising a prospect’s oil change. Coffee first, then questions.

  Retrieving his tools, he glanced up from the workbench when Jock called his name. “Hey.” Gunny picked up his coffee and opened another toolbox. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jock rise to his feet from the low stool he had pulled up next to the lift.

  “Is this okay?” Surprised by the question, Gunny turned to see Jock standing with shoulders slumped, fingers nervously turning a wrench this way and that. “Me being here, I mean.”

  “Yeah?” Shrugging, Gunny studied the man carefully. His face was drawn, features taut, and he didn’t look rested. “How’s it goin’? You doin’ okay over at Domino’s?” It had only been a couple of weeks since Jock had been over for dinner, and he hadn’t looked like this then. “Brother, everything all right?”

  Jock’s lip curled, his body’s instinctive attempt at control of his expression. Licking his lips, he nodded, turning half away. “Mighta missed a couple of appointments.” Without looking around, Gunny quickly put up the few tools he’d laid out. Picking up his coffee, he waited, and Jock finally asked, “What?”

  “Put your shit up. Let’s go.” Jock twisted to face Gunny, surprise on his face. “You know I’m not a patient man. I’m also not one to bullshit. You look like hell, brother. Tellin’ me you missed an appointment would be bad, but you said a couple, which probably means four or five if I were to start digging. So, put up your shit, and let’s go.”

  Jock swallowed hard but didn’t move. Gunny saw Tugboat take a step closer to his back. “Gunny won’t steer you wrong, Jock. He’s throwin’ you a lifeline, man. Don’t turn your nose up at it.” Jock’s neck twisted and he turned to look at Tug, then back at Gunny, and he nodded. With jerky movements, he began gathering and dumping the tools into the boxes lining the bay. Gunny texted Sharon as he waited, smiling down at his phone when she responded in the affirmative immediately. Sipping his coffee, he noticed more than one member glancing their way, and even those small attentions seemed to ratchet up Jock’s anxiety. He was thankful when it was all done, and without a word, he turned and led Jock outside, thumbing the button on his keychain to unlock his truck.

  They’d been driving for a few minutes when Jock shifted in his seat, clearing his throat before asking, “How long does it take?”

  “To get to the docs? Another ten minutes, brother. Sharon’s called ahead. He’s set, you’re golden.”

  “No.” Barked and loud, the edges of that single word were rough with anger, and Gunny glanced over to see Jock staring out the windshield. “I mean how long does it take before I stop fucking up everything? How long? How long before everything’s back to normal, brother?”

  Lie, and have Jock know he can’t trust me to be straight with him? Or tell the truth, and wonder every day if it’s the right decision? Gunny knew what he would have wanted, back when he was sitting where Jock was now, so he gave it to him straight, the unvarnished truth of how different their lives were from what came before.

  “Never. Things will never be back to normal.” Jock sucked in air, but Gunny pushed through, wanting to get all his words out before Jock interrupted him.

  “What was normal before doesn’t make sense now, not after what we’ve seen and done. After what we’ve survived. It’s the surviving that does it, you know? Twists things so all the innocence is stripped away. It never goes back to what was normal. But if you work it, you can find a new normal that’s just as good.” He turned the wheel of the truck, steering the vehicle into the office parking lot. “Look at me. Ten years ago I was fucked up. So fucked up I was chasing ghosts through the forest. Strapped all the time, it’s a fuckin’ wonder I didn’t shoot someone just for breathing some days. So fucked up, brother, if it weren’t for people like Tug and Deke, like Mason and PBJ, I wouldn’t be here talking in your ear. But now, I’m good. Got kid number three on the way, a boy, a namesake. Something to live for. Every breath is precious these days, and this, brother? This is my new normal. We just gotta help you find how to get to yours.”

  “It feels like I can’t catch a break, brother. I get good, and then it all goes fuckin’ sideways on me.” Jock struggled with his seatbelt for a moment, the clasp defeating his fumbling fingers. “I just want…one fuckin’ day where I feel like I did before.”

  “Ain’t gonna get it.” Gunny knew his words sounded bleak, because they were. But he had a longer view of things, a different perspective he could use to help shore up Jock’s defenses. “What you will get is better every fuckin’ day until you’re no longer counting them. Better enough to know it was worth it. But whatever you’re looking for in the past, you won’t find it. Gotta move forward, soldier.” He reached over and thumbed the button, releasing Jock’s seatbelt. “Thing is, you aren’t alone. I’m here. Tug’s here. You got friends, brother.”

  “You think that can be enough?” Jock opened his door, slipping one foot out to rest on the ground. “Think I can get where you are?”

  “I didn’t do it alone. You gotta remember that, Jock. And yeah—” Gunny stood, closed his door and walked around the hood of the truck, meeting Jock by the bumper. “—I know you can get here, brother. I know you can.”

  The sky had darkened when they walked back to the truck, shading towards the deepest indigo along the horizon. Jock’s movements were freer, his arms swinging naturally instead of stiff at his sides. Gunny felt good about the efforts of the day, and Sharon was insisting Jock join them for dinner. In the truck, Gunny waited a moment, flicking the radio seek button several times until he found a channel he liked. A commercial for dog food came on and prodded his memory, making him laugh.

  “What?” Jock asked, resting one elbow on the windowsill.

  “You. You’re a miracle man, you know that?” Gunny pulled out of the lot, angling across the lanes to get to the turn that would take them home fastest. “Called PBJ a couple weeks ago, asked for the breeder’s name where you got Tank. Called the breeder while I was waiting in the lobby just now. Wanna tell me what you think she had to say?”

  Jock chuckled, the humor-filled sound relaxed. Amazing what a single afternoon can do, Gunny thought, then focused in on Jock’s words. “If you were calling about pups, she probably told you she had a litter in the oven, due in about six weeks.”

  “Yeah, she said two pups were already spoken for. I’d led by sayin’ I knew Tank’s owner, and she gave me the joyous news that you were shoppin’ for pups. Tell me, what in the hell are you gonna do with three mastiff dogs?” Gunny laughed, shaking his head.

  “I’m not.” Gunny glanced at him, seeing
lines of tension back in his shoulders, lifting them by an inch. Shit. “Those pups are for you and Sharon. Cade and Kitten, mostly, but…” Jock took a deep breath. “Sharon needs a mastiff, man. These’ll be full brother or sister to Tank, and the breeder is known for her dogs’ dispositions. It won’t make up for takin’ your dog, but it’s the best I can do.”

  “The fuck? You didn’t take my dog. Tank’s yours, man.” The price the breeder quoted for a puppy was reasonable, given the quality, but the idea of Jock dropping that much money on a gift for him made Gunny uneasy. “Jesus. I called because Sharon wants a puppy. She was hoping to get one before the baby came, but the timing isn’t going to work out right. Our boy is due just after Thanksgiving, and she said the pups won’t be ready to go home until Christmas.” He turned into his driveway, pulling up beside several bikes, recognizing three of them as belonging to Mason, Deke, and PBJ. “You can’t…that’s too much, man. I can buy my own dog.”

  Jock didn’t move to exit the truck, and Gunny turned to meet his stare. They sat like that for a moment. Then Jock lifted his chin. “What price is my life? What price can you put on that, Gunny? We’re friends. I feel that in my gut. You do shit like you did today for me without even thinking. Because that’s who you are. That’s what we are. I owe you more than I can even put words to, man. I owe you, not money, but my existence. You and Tank. I can’t give him up, but I can gift you and your wife, your kids. I can gift you with something that might someday match in worth.” Jock nodded towards the house, and Gunny turned to see the door open, Sharon standing in the light, rounded belly telling everyone how blessed he was. “She’s amazing, and I hope to God I find one like her someday. Two pups? Doesn’t put a dent in my debt—” Gunny opened his mouth to speak, but Jock shook his head. “I owe you. Pups will be a gift from me, to you and yours.” The corner of Jock’s lips quirked sideways, and he finished speaking as he got out of the truck, the slamming of his door putting a stop to any comebacks Gunny might have had. “I’m buyin’ ‘em. Done deal.”