by Penn Rivers
The older lady nodded her head once, sizing me up like I was her greatest enemy. It didn’t bother me though. In fact, it set me at ease. Her look said, mess with my daughter and I will eat your liver for dinner. She was protective. The way a mother should be of her child. No matter how old they were.
I liked Rosa. Even if she didn’t like me. Yet.
“And this…” Gemma said, sliding her hand over the little boy’s shoulders, “is my man.”
My gaze flicked to her in time to see the raise of her eyebrow. She was reminding me of our conversation, of the way I’d assumed she was with someone romantically. Of the way I’d made an ass of myself.
Damn, I’d gotten this all wrong, hadn’t I? She wasn’t ashamed of her boyfriend finding out where she worked. She’d been trying to protect her son from it.
Motherfucker.
I’d lost my damn mind over her, and it had happened fast. Jumping to conclusions like I swore I’d never do, getting territorial, getting handsy. Feeling too damn hard, and it seemed like there was no way to slow it down, to make her feel less important.
This shit was a runaway train, and my fucking heart was tied to the tracks up ahead, awaiting certain devastation.
Especially now. Knowing she was a single mother trying to do right by her son. Knowing that touch from earlier hadn’t been some twisted thing, but rather a pure action brought on because… what had she said? I made her feel safe.
It had me wondering what caused her to feel otherwise. What made her little boy look at me like he’d send up a Bat signal if I made one wrong move. What made her mother threaten my life with only a glance. And where was the kid’s father?
“This is the only man in my life. This is Noah, my son.”
I cleared my throat, aiming to make my voice smoother for him, as I held out my hand. “Hello, Noah. It’s very nice to meet you.”
He stared at it before looking to his mother. Gemma nodded her encouragement, and he put is tiny palm in mine for a proper shake.
He was so small. Tiny, like I was once. It was like looking into a mirror the way he was so careful. The way he was obviously scared but determined to be brave. The way he was trying to do things right for Gemma. It was all so familiar, and so devastating. This short encounter was killing me inside. Hurting me harder than anything had in a while.
Gemma rushed to fill the pressed silence between us.
“Why don’t you and I go check on the pancakes,” she said to the boy.
His eyes lit up, sweeping away the darkness that had filled them moments ago.
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”
Gemma laughed, and I watched as they scurried over to the counter, leaving her mother behind.
Okay, so “pancake” was the magic word. I’d have to keep that in mind if I ever wanted Gemma’s boy to like me.
I frowned.
I did want that, didn’t I?
I did.
I wanted to put him at ease, if only because I wished someone had done that for me when I was a boy. Made me feel like I was safe. I did that for Gemma somehow. I’d do it for her son too if given any kind of chance.
Rosa slid into the booth across from me, her eyes never wavering from mine. I wanted to watch Gemma and her son at the counter, but I didn’t dare look away from her mother.
“She doesn’t need you, understand?” Rosa said.
I kept my face as clear of emotion as possible. Hard, because I was feeling too much.
“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”
Rosa blinked. Once, slowly. Like she was about to launch into a spiel she’d given a hundred times.
“I don’t mean no offense, but you seem like a guy who needs to hear it straightforward. I’ve been here five minutes, and I see it. You look at her like a man starving, and I just want you to know, my daughter doesn’t need you or the distractions that come along with you. She needs to keep focused, keep working and building this life for herself and her son. She’s unavailable. Understand me?”
I stared at her, absorbing her blunt words. I didn’t know Rosa, but it was clear she was a no-bullshitter. A non-answer wouldn’t work on her. Nothing but straight-talk.
“It’s good that Gem has someone who cares for her as much as you seem to. I would never want to hurt her or cause her trouble. You have nothing to worry about with me.”
Rosa eyed me, considering my words. Whatever she was afraid of happening, it wasn’t happening. Me and Gemma were still nothing. She was still only my girl in my head. If anything, there was more distance between us than ever.
Because that’s what happens when you jump to asshole conclusions and flip your fucking lid over the tiniest touch, that looking back now… could have just been friendly. You send a girl running with that shit. Oh, she could pretend she was checking on the pancakes, but she was trying to get away from all the awkwardness between us.
I’d let her run. I wouldn’t make things harder. Wouldn’t worry her mama anymore.
Rosa nodded, satisfied, as if she could read my thoughts.
Gemma and Noah returned, carrying a paper bag with handles and two steaming foam cups. The boy was pouting like a champ.
“Mama says we hafta take it home to eat.”
Rosa smirked. “You mind your mama, Noah. If she says it’s time to go, it’s time.”
“But I didn’t even get to tell ‘im about my cars.”
He gestured to me and my brow shot up in surprise. Rosa sighed, disappointed. But I couldn’t think of one damn thing to say to the boy.
“You uh…” I glanced at Gemma but she was staring at the floor. “You like cars then?”
Noah nodded. “All but Charley. He acts up too much. But I got lots of Hot Wheels. Like ten of ‘em. Mama found ‘em at the blue store with a funny G that looks like a face! I love that store.”
Goodwill. He was talking about the thrift store.
“And Nana made a race track on the carpet wi’some white tape so I can race ‘em. I’m realrealreal good at racing. And I’m only four-years-old. Can you believe it? I don’t think there’s a four-year-old racer who’s better than me in the entire world.”
I raised an eyebrow, nodding as I leaned against the back of the booth. “That’s pretty impressive. I like cars too. Don’t have no Hot Wheels now, but I used to when I was about your age.”
Noah’s eyes went big as buckets. “Really? And did ya race ‘em?”
“I did.”
“Wowwww,” he sighed, his eyes floating to my biceps where they bulged from the way I had my arms crossed. “I bet you were real good at racing too with muscles like those. You look like Hulk. But except… not green. Mama says I can have big muscles too someday if I eat all my green beans. Is that what you did? Eat green beans? Cuz I’m wonderin’ how many cans it takes.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Gemma stopped me. “All right, Noah. It’s time to let Kane get on with his morning. And you want those pancakes, right?”
“Oooooh! Yes, yes, yes, yes!”
“Okay then, it’s time to go.”
“Oh, all right.”
“Follow Nana. I’ll be right behind you.”
I waved at Noah as he and Rosa made their way to the door, weaving around the early morning customers filtering in.
“He’s amazing,” I told Gemma.
“Yeah. He really is.”
I found her gaze, but her eyes flitted away, refusing to look at me. I should say something. Something that would erase all the stupid things I said under the influence of her.
“Gemma—”
“Let’s just pretend none of this ever happened, okay? Blame it on the late hour, the cold weather, the frustration of a hard night. Whatever.” She shook her head, leftover embarrassment rolling off of her. “Next shift, the slate is wiped clean. We go back to nodding while you guard the door. Okay?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Thanks, Kane. For everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And then she hurried off to catch up with her fami
ly, leaving me with a sick feeling in my gut that wouldn’t go away until the next time I saw her face, and could know for sure she was okay.
And maybe I could tell her sorry then. Maybe there was still a chance to at least make her feel good again about seeing me.
You feel safe. You feel good.
I didn’t want to take that from her, so I’d try. Tonight.
As I sat there, staring at the door she’d left through, a plan formed in my mind.
I knew exactly what to do to help my girl.
Chapter Six
KANAAN
“What’s the damage, Trey?” I crossed my arms, leaning against the grease coated counter of McKinley’s Auto Shop. The owner was a buddy and got me in first thing after opening. Gemma’s car had needed towing to get it there, but luckily the driver owed me a favor and got the job done for a twenty-dollar bill to cover gas.
Trey wiped his hands on a shop towel, taking time to get most of the grime off his fingers, and let out a long sigh.
“Battery’s shot all right. But it’s worse than that. Needs a new alternator. And prolly a whole shit-load of other things to have it running good.”
“Well, fuck.”
Gemma didn’t have the money to put into fixing it, I was sure. She didn’t even know I was here. With her car. I was crossing my damn fingers that she wasn’t back at the club looking for it and thinking it’d been ganked or something.
“What’s the bare minimum to get it running?”
Trey whistled low. “Ah, let’s see… new alternator, new battery… parts and labor... you’re looking at about four hundred. Give or take a fifty.”
Four hundred dollars to have Gemma’s car running again.
I could pay for it. Easily. I saved most of what I made working security.
But something told me that might go over like a campfire in hell. Gemma wouldn’t want to owe me. Or anyone. She never borrowed on her paycheck like some of the other girls did. And I’d seen her counting her pennies to buy tacos from the bar for dinner sometimes that last day before checks went out.
But… she needed her damn car. And I needed to know she was safe driving it. I didn’t like wondering what would happen if poor Charley died someplace where no one was around to help her.
I nodded at Trey. “Do it. Fix it up, and then have Moosey deliver it back to the club. I’ll be in to pay for it tomorrow.”
“All right then. You got it.”
Heading to my truck, I clicked through my phone looking for the text Marco sent me of Gemma’s contact number. Yeah, getting that info from him had been fun. Explaining I was helping her fix her car didn’t make it easier like I thought it would either.
Sliding into the cab, I took a deep breath and dialed her number before pressing the phone to my ear. It rang once, twice, three times. Four. Five. And then a funny tone and the message: the number you have reached is no longer in service.
Frowning, I pulled the phone away and double checked the digits. But they were correct.
I dialed again, getting the same message after five rings. And for some stupid reason, I dialed once more just to prove to myself that yes, that number was a fucking dud.
Well, shit.
Shooting another text to Marco, I confirmed he’d given me the right number. And a few more calls trying to track her down came up dead.
“Goddamn it.” I tossed the phone onto the dashboard and dragged my palms over my face.
This was fucked. I had no way of letting Gemma know where her car was. I wouldn’t see her until her shift tonight. By then, she’d probably have already filed a police report.
This was too much.
I barked out an ironic laugh, the noise sounding too loud in the enclosed space. Just like the sunshine was too bright. Both things grated on my nerves.
Never wanted to impress a girl before. Never cared. And wasn’t even trying to impress her now. I was just trying to… shit, what?
Help?
It reminded me of those old sitcoms where a character tries to clean up some trivial mess in the kitchen but only ends up with tomato sauce splattering the ceiling, pots boiling over, and slipping and sliding on spilled whipped cream.
I didn’t think it was funny then, and it wasn’t funny now.
Pulling my truck out of McKinley’s parking lot, I turned for home.
My place was a small pad in a small subdivision in a part of town where there was a swing set in almost every back yard. There was even one in mine. Not because I had anyone to use it, but because it was one of those hefty wooden ones and I didn’t care to take it all apart and store it. I didn’t go in the backyard anyway except in the summer to mow and when I needed to pick up Trixie’s dog shit. Speaking of Trixie. The black lab liked to chill out on the slide sometimes. So the swing set did see some action occasionally.
I thought of Noah. He’d probably like the thing. It had a good swing and a little climbing wall on the side.
Parking in the driveway, I didn’t bother locking the truck. I bypassed the dry shrubbery, brown from the winter, made a quick stop at the mailbox, and then went in through the front door. Trixie met me there, lazily wagging her tail, but I could see the excitement in her brown eyes. I’d been gone longer than normal.
Glancing at the clock, I could see it was half past eleven. Well, shit. I’d need to be up for work in five hours.
Squatting down, I ruffled the short fur of Trixie’s neck, ramping up her excitement. She bumped her nose against my palm and licked.
“Aw, now. Good girl.”
Winding through to the kitchen, I quickly dug around in the fridge. There wasn’t much to choose from. I hadn’t gone for groceries this morning like I’d planned. I grabbed a half empty packet of lunch meat and scarfed it down standing at the sink before finishing off the carton of orange juice. It would have to do for a late breakfast.
Would’ve rather had pancakes with Gemma. Noah too. And maybe Rosa if she wasn’t glaring at me.
I stripped my shirt off on the way to the bedroom, tossing it into the closet from across the room. It landed in the floor, close enough to the hamper. I kicked off my boots and socks before wrestling with my belt buckle and shucking my pants. They had the same fate as my shirt.
With a heavy sigh, I turned for the bed, stopping as I always do, at the edge. It always felt like I was preparing to jump to my death instead settling in for a few hours of sleep. It was a familiar reaction, but still, it cramped my stomach so hard I grit my teeth and slammed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to look at it.
It’s just a bed. Just a goddamn bed. And you need to sleep. Find your balls and get in it.
But it wasn’t just a bed. It was where I had nightmares of my shitty childhood. Where I saw sick things I couldn’t hide from. Where I tossed and turned because of the dark places my mind went when I wasn’t awake to protect it. It smothered me. Told me I’d never be free. I’d always be alone.
Fucking bed.
Drawing in a deep breath, I slid under the sheet, blowing it back out through my lips. I laid back on the pillow and stared at the dark ceiling. Light-blocking blinds cut a lot, but they didn’t cut everything. I could still see the pattern of a shadow the ceiling fan made. It wasn’t spinning, but I could imagine it. It reminded me of one from a time when I was much younger, and I’d thought a million times to take it down so I wouldn’t have to look at it. But that would be bending to the things that haunted me, and fucking hell, I wasn’t going to be doing any bending to that shit.
Never.
I’d live with those things, and they were many. And let them make me stronger. It helped to focus on what I could do. What I had already overcome.
I could look at neon lights without wanting to vomit. I could smell cigarette smoke without it stealing every ounce of my breath. I could eat fried food like the kind they served at The Sassy Sapphire. I could control my temper. Harness it into action when I needed to, without exploding.
I could live with what had happen
ed to my mother without wanting revenge, even if it was just barely.
All things I couldn’t do just a few years ago, before I’d started therapy to deal with my past.
All good things. Small miracles.
So good, I rarely even needed Dr. Trammel anymore.
But the most amazing change yet was my reaction to Gemma. My physical reaction to her. What she did to me below the belt.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
Gemma. I could think about her here. No one would read it on my expression, the vulnerability. What she did to me, it made me feel so small and so huge at the same time. She made me burn hot when no other woman ever could.
She turned me on.
And that wasn’t supposed to be possible. Not if history was any indication.
Beneath the cool sheet, my dick went rock hard just thinking about her. Not her body. Just… her. Her existence. The fact that she was alive in this world made me hard. How was that even doable? Especially since before her, I never got an erection unless it was in my sleep. And it was like a goddamn disappearing act. As soon as I woke, it deflated. No matter how hard I stroked it or how much I wished I could function normally.
I was too fucking young to be broken.
It was a problem of my mind, Dr. Trammel had said. My arousal was tangled up in guilt and shame, unable to just be free. Time would help, he’d said, and maybe he was right because with time I’d found her.
And she was bringing me to life.
I squeezed my eyes closed to shut out the fan, and focused on a vision of her face. She was pretty. Damn, she was. But there was more to it than just looks. On some deeper level, she felt like part of me. The key to unlock me, and make me all I was supposed to be.
It was fucking insane, this feeling.
Sometimes movies and books talked about soulmates, but I never believed they existed. Still couldn’t. But maybe this feeling is what inspired that belief in some.
In my mind, I relived that moment at the diner when she brushed her hand over my stomach. Her fingers were cold. I could feel them through the cotton of my shirt, but her touch was warm.