by Karen Renee
“Yes,” she said, quick, and almost as snippily as teenage girls do with their parents.
I held my hands up in surrender. “I’m not part of your parental unit. I’ve been where you’re at.”
She sighed. “I know that.”
I let the silence stretch as long as I could stand it. “You don’t blame me or your uncle?”
She had sunk onto the bed, but her head jerked at my question. “Why would I do that?”
I paused because I didn’t want to point it out to her. “If we hadn’t met you for coffee, I don’t think the Devil Lancers would have known about you.”
“As if,” she muttered.
Now I sighed. “Uh, yes. This sh…uh, stuff will mess with your head, honey. Don’t let them have that, too.”
“How do I stop it? …from messing with my head, I mean?”
I took a deep breath. “Talk to people. Don’t bottle up your resentment.”
Her cute button-nose crinkled. “I don’t have any resentment.”
“Maybe not, but you probably will at some point. If you do, share it. Your uncle will understand. Your father might not— sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
She giggled. “Sure you should have. Dad’s a hard-ass.”
“Leah.” I tried to scold, but it was feeble.
“He is,” she insisted, falling to her back on the bed. “How hard is it to let me see Uncle Roll? But no. He totally blames him. And I know you were mad at him because of it.”
“I never said—”
“I could tell even if you didn’t say anything,” she said to the ceiling.
I sought to move onward. “Your nose still hurt?” I asked.
“Not really. I just wish it wasn’t so black and blue.”
“Yeah. You get any shit about it, just tell them they should see the other guy.”
Her lips pressed together. “It’s the stitches I don’t like. I don’t know if they’ll be gone before prom.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Are you going to prom? I thought only juniors and seniors went.”
“Well…” she drawled, and turned on her side.
“Are you secretly dating an older boy?”
“N—…no?” she asked her answer and I laughed.
“Gee, are you sure about that ‘n—…no’ or do you really mean ‘not yet’ or possibly ‘not as far as I know?’”
She sighed while giving me a dirty look. “All of the above?”
“Well. I think the stitches should fade by then.” I held out my arm. “This was stitched up three weeks ago, outside of a hospital, which means your stitches will likely heal much cleaner. I don’t know when prom is, but I’m thinking you’ll be okay.”
We were silent a while and I could see Leah was letting my words sink in. I almost thought she was going to cry, but then she inhaled loudly.
“Well, that’s good to know.”
I picked at her soft bedspread. “I hesitate to ask this in fear I’ll jinx you, but you were able to sleep okay last night, right? I suppose they may have given you drugs, but even so those things don’t—”
Leah put a hand on mine. “Yeah. When we got home from the hospital, I had been given a narcotic. But, I slept last night, too. The heavy-duty ibuprofen helped. Though you know how there’s two kinds of sleep?”
I nodded.
“Well, that first stage, I get really vivid dreams. I wasn’t being attacked again, but I was dragged backwards and it like jolted me awake. My whole body seemed to jump in the bed. It was crazy.”
“Yeah. I hate to tell you this, but you’ll probably—”
“Have more dreams?”
I smiled but it didn’t reach my eyes. “How did you get so smart? Your granny?”
She chuckled. “More like, Uncle Roll. That Buckman traffic’s no joke, you know?”
Roll
Roll sat with Dana and it was the first time in a long time the silence was awkward. “You got something on your mind, Dane?”
Her chuckle held no humor. “He hates when you call me that.”
“He’s not here, so who fuckin’ cares?”
She exhaled sharply through her nose. “My point is that because he hates it, I’ve come to love it. It’s so you. Turning me into one of the guys by dropping a vowel.”
“No, actually I’m replacing the ‘a’ at the end with an ‘e’, but what are you getting at?”
“I’m getting at how you put all of us in your world, no matter if we want to be there or not. So, it doesn’t surprise me Leah got dragged in—”
“I did not put her in that fuckin’ place,” he clipped out through clenched teeth, because otherwise he’d roar it.
Dana waved both hands at him. “No, no. I’m botching this up. That’s not what I mean…at all.”
His bulging eyes asked her what she did mean.
“I mean, I don’t share Ray’s views. I tried to talk to him, but he’s too hot-headed…and hard-headed too. So, no, I don’t blame you in any way. What happened is the fault of the other guys. Plain and simple. Soon as I can get Ray to see reason, he’s gonna see it my way. Or actually, no, the right way, which is how it is.”
Roll loved his sister-in-law, but when she said things like that last sentence, he was punched in the face with why he could only take her in small doses. When she got it in her head she was right, there was no telling her otherwise. In many ways it made her and Ray perfect for one another, and Roll was just lucky her self-righteous opinion fell his way.
The right response would have been his appreciation or gratitude, but he would have been lying.
Before he could respond, the front door opened and closed. Realizing it was Wednesday and subsequently early-dismissal, he was pleased to see his nine year-old niece Mackenzie running into the room.
“Uncle Roll! I knew that was your motorcycle in the road. Is Miss Trixie here?”
Taking in her slate-gray eyes and dark blonde hair, Roll fleetingly wondered why his youngest niece called her ‘Miss Trixie,’ but Leah slid right into calling her Aunt Trixie. Fleetingly, because he knew it was the daily drop-offs that did it. He had shared so much of Trixie in such little ways with Leah, and he didn’t realize how quickly she’d absorbed it.
A rush of feeling shook his body as he saw the difference. One niece knew Trixie was his world even as he fought to keep Trixie at arm’s-length. The other niece had no idea, so she called her “Miss Trixie.” The beauty wasn’t Trixie gaining two nieces or those girls gaining an aunt. The beauty was Trixie fully becoming Roll’s world.
The moment was broken when Trixie’s voice said, “I am right here in the flesh, little lady.”
Looking over his shoulder, Roll saw his woman at the mouth of the hall, Leah pushing in beside her. He grinned at them.
“Jeez, Kenz, it’s Aunt Trixie. You’re old enough to know that.”
“They’re not married,” Mackenzie said snottily, and Roll knew this was devolving into sibling rivalry.
“Girls,” Dana started.
“You’re right,” Trixie responded. “We aren’t yet, but we will be. You feel like calling me ‘Miss Trixie’ or ‘Aunt Trixie,’ I don’t care. It’s your call. That work for you?”
Mackenzie gloated at her sister — until Dana spoke. “Trixie, no offense, but she’s going to call you what Ray, Roll, you, or I say she will. She doesn’t get to decide what ‘works for her.’” Dana’s gaze sharpened on Mackenzie. “And little girl, you know better. Pointing out two people aren’t married is not cool. Period.”
Trixie’s head tilted, and Roll knew she wanted to point out Mackenzie wasn’t wrong, so he caught Trixie’s eyes and shook his head. Trixie pouted, but righted her head and shrugged.
God, he loved her.
Mackenzie apologized and Leah asked, “So, you said you will be married. When is that happening? Can Kenz and I be in the wedding?”
He felt his face drop, but he saw Trixie watching his face. He struggled between screwing his face up in frustration
or smiling a fake smile. Refusing to blink, he held her gaze. When she finally gave in to laughing, he could swear it was the first bellylaugh he’d heard from her in months. If he had anything to do with it, she’d laugh like that three times per day, every day, at least.
***
Roll caught Trixie by the waist before she could climb on the back of his bike. “You still feelin’ social?”
Her head tilted just a little bit. “When am I not feelin’ social?”
“Point taken. Wanna go visit Rage?”
Her smile was small, but she nodded. “Yeah. That’d be good.”
Half-an-hour later, the two of them walked into Rage’s room to find him with his hand on a petite blonde-haired nurse’s ass.
Roll fought his grin, but grunted when he heard Trixie mutter, “Typical. So damn typical.”
The nurse blushed, then turned back to Rage. “Mr. Fiske, you really need to keep your hands to yourself.”
The grin on Rage’s face was pure mischief. “You need to keep your tush out of reach.”
Her blush deepened, but she left the room, growling under her breath.
The door closed behind her, and Trixie launched in. “There is no shame in your game, is there?”
“Life’s too damn short for shame, Trix.”
“He’s got you there, babe.”
Trixie glared at him, but he looked to Rage. “They gonna let you outta this joint any time soon?”
“Fuckin’ hope so, man. This place blows. Nurse Mitchell is the only relief to the boredom, let me tell ya.”
Trixie edged closer to Rage and propped a hip on the bed. “I’m sorry.”
Rage shook his head. “What the fuck for?”
“For you getting stabbed of course.”
Roll felt anger well up inside him. She had no business feeling guilty or blaming herself.
Rage reached out and squeezed her leg. “I’ve been out of it, but I do remember facing Iggy’s crazy ass, so it wasn’t you who stabbed me.”
“No, but—”
“No buts, baby,” Roll said.
She glared at him. “Okay, Kettle.”
“What?” Rage asked.
“Nothin’,” Roll muttered, but Trixie spoke at the same time.
“He blames himself. Thinks he shoulda been first one in the door and he should be in this hospital bed.”
Rage closed his eyes and shook his head again, but it wasn’t as energetic. “The two of you are a fuckin’ pair, I hope you know that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Trixie
The next day, Roll woke me up before the sun rose. He leaned into my pillow. “Shower with me.”
I grumbled pulling the sheets over my head. “The sun ain’t even up, so why in the hell would I do that?”
Roll whipped the covers down and nuzzled the back of my neck. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
No doubt he would, but that wasn’t nearly as enticing as it should have been, I was just that tired. Roll dragged me out of bed and into the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered why I didn’t feel rested.
Roll had the shower running. He grabbed the hem of my cami and whipped it over my head. “Let’s go, lady.”
I dropped my panties and we showered.
An hour-and-a-half later, we strolled into the Mayo clinic. I knew Roll’s appointment was today, but no way in hell did I know he had scheduled it for eight in the morning. Sitting in the waiting room, I watched as Roll lowered himself next to me with a clipboard.
“They’re gonna toss you outta the club, Roll.”
“Say what?” he asked as he filled out his paperwork.
“Any of your Riot brothers find out you voluntarily took an appointment for first thing in the morning, they’re gonna kick you out and strip your patch.”
That finally got me a laugh from him. “You remember how you wanted to sit the table a week or so ago?”
“Yeah?” I answered, but asked at the same time, since I had no idea where he was going with this.
“Shit like that is exactly why women don’t.”
“Don’t be a jackass,” I murmured as a nurse called Roll’s name.
I waited while the nurse took Roll’s vital signs. Examination rooms normally didn’t freak me out, but I was feeling extremely nauseous. Our shower had gone long, which meant we didn’t have time for breakfast, so I figured my nausea was because I was hungry and uncaffienated.
“Did you fast?” the nurse asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Roll replied.
She made a note in the computer. “All right. Dr. Pinehurst will be in shortly.”
I sighed. “You know, there was no need to make me fast just because you had to.”
“Wasn’t me who dropped to her knees after I ate you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Never let it be said I’m a taker and not a giver. Besides, why’d you want me to tag along for this anyway?”
“I was thinkin’ we’ll get your blood drawn for a routine check, and when we both come back clean, I can donate my rubbers to Beast or the prospects.”
My eyes closed and I bit back my bitchy because in a strange way that was very sweet of him. “You know I have a regular doctor. I don’t need to see someone all the way out here at Mayo.”
“Yep. But did you know Dr. McGrady entered a partnership with another doc who happens to have an office nearby?”
I shook my head.
“That’s our next stop. Then the Beach Hut Cafe, ‘cause I know you love that place.”
***
Roll was in the shower after sparring with Cal out in the forecourt. Why they didn’t use a gym was beyond me, and I was sure they wouldn’t tell me even if they had a reason. It was getting close to five in the afternoon when my phone rang. The number was not one I recognized, but I answered anyway.
“Miss Baker?” A female voice greeted.
“Yes?” I asked, because her tone was so cautious.
“This is Alicia with Dr. McGrady’s office. We’ve run your blood work and need to schedule an appointment for you.”
Fear coursed up my spine. “Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s routine for us to follow up with our pre-natal patients—”
I didn’t hear the rest because I dropped my phone and giggled. Seemed Janie wasn’t the only one who could make me giggle.
I picked up the phone. “I’m sorry. I dropped the phone, so I didn’t hear the rest.”
“You didn’t know?” she asked.
I chuckled once. “Uh, no. My man is under the impression he’s sterile.”
“Well, he certainly isn’t, assuming he’s been your only partner.”
“He has,” I said.
I set up the appointment with her and then sat on Roll’s bed feeling so many emotions it wasn’t even funny. So much happiness was bubbling within me, I felt giddy, but at the same time, I was scared shitless.
Roll
With his jeans hanging open, Roll opened the door to the bathroom, but stopped moving when he caught sight of Trixie. She was sitting on the edge of bed, practically bouncing, and the smile on her face nearly reached her ears.
“What are you so damn happy about, Trix?”
She schooled her features, and Roll knew she was up to no good.
“How long’s the doctor gonna take to let you know about your condition?”
“You were there, woman. Go back next week. Why?”
Her grin reappeared and she giggled.
“’Cause I’m pregnant,” she said.
He shook his head. “You can’t fuckin’ be.”
A look of superiority stole over her face. “I am. It’s exactly why you needed a second opinion.”
He wanted to ask if she had done something with Har or Brute, but he knew better. “But I’m—”
“Gonna be a damn fine Daddy, is what you’re gonna be. Now get over here and kiss me, Homie.”
He pointed a finger at her. “That’s the firs
t and fuckin’ last time you call me that. Got it?”
She pouted. “But I do such a great Marge Simpson impersonation. You’re depriving me, man.”
“No. You’re not the least bit deprived. A little depraved, definitely.”
Her beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “So how did you get to have ‘Roll’ as your road name?”
“I insisted on being called Roll since I was five years old. In or out of the MC world. You have no idea what it’s like to have the first name Homer. And in an MC? No fuckin’ way, babe. At best they’d call me Simpson. I shudder to think about what they’d call me at worst.”
“Perhaps, D’Oh,” she deadpanned, but couldn’t hold back her snigger.
He used his weight to plaster her to the bed. “You ain’t funny, Trix.”
She threw her head back as much as the pillow would allow, and laughed.
“I beg to differ. Trix and D’oh, together we’d be Trixdough or D’oh-Trix. Could be a bad cookie dough or it could be a bad acid trip or the latest rave drug. Hysterical to me, no matter how you cut it.”
He shook his head. “You havin’ my baby or what?”
“Yup,” she said, popping the ‘p.’
He shoved his jeans to his ankles. “Then let’s fuckin’ celebrate.”
EPILOGUE
Trixie
Five months later…
I tucked my cell phone into my back pocket, started to walk forward, but bumped into Roll. I looked up, and his concern was written on his face. I smiled a small, sad smile.
“The nurse doesn’t think it’s a good idea. It’s been a good week for him, but even if we bring him back right afterward, she thinks he could get aggressive again, like last week.”
My father’s condition had not improved over the last few months. Even though Roll and I spent quite a bit of time with him, the tremors were intensifying and the side effects of his drugs were taking their toll on all three of us. True to his word, Roll footed the remainder of the bill Medicare didn’t cover in order for Dad to stay at the Gardens.
To say it had been an adjustment was a major understatement.
Dad’s condition was exacerbated by the fact that he had untreated depression from losing his wife and drowning his sorrow in the bottle. I tried to talk him into seeing a therapist, but it was rare he was lucid enough for me to make any headway. Roll didn’t fare much better, because Dad would act like he was one of the guys and he didn’t have any problems.