Brute: The Valves MC

by Faye, Carmen

  “Mari, baby, please sign the papers. I need to go into this knowing my daughter has a mother who loves her, and that the woman I love, whether she still accepts me or not, can still find it in her heart to help me get through it.” His eyes were pleading, and I couldn’t look away.

  I’d spent months trying to get Dawson to tell me everything about his past, clue me in on why he was so frightened of leaving the Valves, and now that I had gotten what I wanted, I wished I’d never pried it from him. I just wanted to go back a month and start over. I wouldn’t be so naïve this time around, and I’d let Dawson handle his business.

  But I couldn’t do any of that, and I took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I love Ginger, Dawson. And I still love you. I never wanted any of this to happen, but I will do everything I can to make it as easy as possible, for both of you.” That guilt of having forced him into this decision washed over me. Maybe he would have come to this conclusion on his own eventually anyway, and blaming myself was irrational, but that didn’t matter. I felt responsible, and there was only one thing I could do to help fix it.

  I pulled away from his grasp, and I reached for the folder and the pen. I didn’t need to read anything. I knew what the pages stipulated. I found all the little flags and signed and dated on the lines with the Xs. Then, I closed the folder and set it back on the table with a sense of finality. Something in me had held onto the idea that, if I didn’t sign it, we’d stand still in time. Dawson wouldn’t go to prison, and we could work something else out.

  Now that it was done, my heart sank, another heavy weight in an already struggling stomach. I turned to look at him, still kneeling in front of me, and I watched the tension ease from his face and drain from his body. I couldn’t believe how much relief seemed to come over him, just from me scrawling my name a few times.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, and I heard the pieces of his broken heart clattering together as he shook and laid his head in my lap.

  I needed to leave. I needed to get up and go home, and I was probably going to throw up again. But I didn’t have the strength or motivation to move. He felt good on me, and I laid a hand on his head, stroking his hair absently. I had the distinct feeling this would be the last time I could touch him with any kind of intimacy for a very long time.

  And deep down, I was scared that, when he finally did get free again, he was going to hate me for causing him all this pain.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  I stayed until Dawson went to pick Ginger up from school, the decision that he would do it made silently between the two of us. As he drove off, I went back to my house and shut myself in the bathroom, sobbing and throwing up for several long minutes. Then, I pulled myself together and took another quick shower to clean myself up. I couldn’t be a puddle of nerves and overwrought emotion when Ginger got here.

  The steaming water washed away the swollen, puffy skin around my eyes, the stench of sickness, and most of the nausea, and I found enough strength scrub my body until it was almost raw. I only climbed out because I knew I was running short on time, and I wanted to be out in the kitchen or living room with a smile plastered on my face when the two of the arrived. It would be good for everyone’s sake.

  And it turned out to be the right idea. Ginger looked worried until I smiled and held out my arms with all of my enthusiasm. Then, she beamed and ran to me, nearly knocking me over with the force of her hug. “You’re better!” she exclaimed.

  “I am.” So far, so good. “How was school?”

  “It was okay. I like it way better when you’re my teacher. Miss Dennis was the name of the teacher today, and she wasn’t fun like you.” She gave me a harsh look of disapproval, and I mirrored it as I gazed up at Dawson, who was trying not to laugh.

  “I think she’s not so bad, and you’re just used to me being there,” I told Ginger. “Come on, why don’t we get your backpack hung up and find you a snack?”

  “I have one already. I have some peanut butter crackers that Miss Dennis gave us from the snack cabinet that I didn’t eat yet.” She let me take her backpack, but she reached quickly to unzip it and dug around until she produced the package of crackers. “Can I have some milk to go with them?”

  “Sure.” Dawson was already getting it, so I just hung up her backpack and watched her as she sat at the table with her snack, very serious about eating with proper manners as she always was. I turned to her father, who watched her with longing. “When will you know?” I asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Within the week,” he growled back, and I met his eyes, seeing the eagerness in them, a hunger that had nothing to do with snacks or his daughter or being done with the Valves. It made my blood boil, and things low in my body softened and then became molten. I wanted him with a desperation that was all consuming.

  Without permission, my arm shot out, and my hand rested on his chest, which showed me just how hard a time he was having trying to stay calm and keep his breath even. “And do you go in immediately?”

  “I can set a date,” he rasped, stroking one hand through my damp hair. “I don’t want to put it off forever, but I had thought one last weekend would be nice. For Ginger. And…” He trailed off, but I knew what he wanted to say. For us. I’d been doing my best not to let the physical draw that I felt constantly from Dawson get to me, but I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I was running out of time, and I didn’t just want a final night with him – I needed it.

  I took a step closer and lowered my volume to barely a whisper. “Can you find a babysitter for Friday night?” He didn’t speak, just nodded, and I didn’t have to look to see that he was hard. I could read it in the lines around his eyes as they became more pronounced. With a nod, I told him, “Then, Saturday night for Ginger, and Friday night for us.”

  It was exactly what he needed, and he dipped his head, taking my lips. His taste was so familiar, so stirring, and I slid my hands around the back of his neck, holding on and letting him delve as deep as he wanted. I would cherish every moment I had and hope that, when everything was said and done, we could find a way to make things work. I wasn’t going to delude myself into believing we could just walk right into each other’s arms and start where we left off. But I had to tell myself there was some chance our relationship could evolve, no matter how much time passed in between.

  When he finally let me go, I was so aroused I had to put some space between us to find my composure. I walked over to the table where Ginger was organizing her crackers into a regimental line, determining the order in which she would eat them. I shook my head at her obsessive mannerisms and told myself they would ease up as she got older.

  “I’d better go,” I heard Dawson say, still standing where I’d left him, and I looked over at him, debating asking him to stay for dinner. But it was better to let him go. I had to get used to not relying on his presence, and the sooner I started to make the adjustment, the better.

  ***

  After I’d tucked Ginger in for the night, the house seemed very empty and quiet, and I had no idea how to fill the emptiness. I didn’t feel like watching TV alone, and I had trouble with the idea of sleeping in an empty bed when Dawson was still right next door and his daughter was in the next room.

  I was frustrated and despondent and, with the nausea creeping back into my stomach, I wanted a distraction. I picked up my phone, on the verge of calling Dawson. Why was I being so stern about this? I’d be forced into abstaining in a few days, maybe a week. Why couldn’t I take advantage of what was right in front of me until then?

  My phone rang, and I jumped, not expecting a call. I looked down, sure it was Dawson, reading my mind, but I scowled at a number I didn’t recognize. I’d had the same number forever, so I doubted it was a call for someone else. I didn’t get a lot of wrong numbers. So I answered. “Hello?”

  “Mari? You sound strange. Is everything all right?”

  “Georgie?” I couldn’t believe my sister was calling. We’d just had Thanksgiving, and it wasn�
�t even Christmas yet. I usually didn’t expect more than two or three calls a year. I felt my heart leap, and I laughed softly. “Wow, I’m surprised you called.”

  “Oh, Mari! That hurts! You’re my sister, and I’m tired of not seeing you or talking to you all the time, like we did when we were kids. I got a new phone with a new plan and a new number that has unlimited talk and text. And it’s all for you, sister.”

  I felt warm for once, and I leaned back on the couch, elated just to hear her voice. I missed Georgie, even if she drove me crazy, and now more than ever I needed every ally I could get. “Then I expect to hear from you at least once a week,” I told her.

  “Oh, you’ll be lucky if that’s all you get. Seriously, though. Is everything okay? You really sounded strange when you answered the phone.”

  Georgie was good at seeing right through me, when she wasn’t too busy being selfish. It was a blessing and a curse, and I told her, “I just didn’t have this number in my phone, so I didn’t know it was you. And Ginger is sleeping over. I didn’t want to wake her.” Both were true and avoided the topic of Dawson.

  Or so I’d hoped. “Aw, that beautifully adorable little girl! How is she? Better yet, how are you and that gorgeous hunk of man she calls Daddy getting along?”

  I hesitated. Should I lie and tell her everything was great and wonderful? Did I tell her half truths about having issues but not being specific? Or did I spill everything and finally share my burden with someone? I didn’t think Georgie was patient enough for the whole story, but I knew she wouldn’t believe the lie. So, I tried, “Things are a little complicated right now. But I’m sure they’ll work out eventually.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.” She gasped. “He didn’t cheat on you, did he?”

  “No!” I was horrified at the idea. “It’s not that.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, I would explain, but it’s just a lot to tell, and I don’t think I could really do it over the phone.”

  “Then I’ll come see you.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I called to tell you I wanted to come see you. I can’t get there on Christmas, but I could come a week earlier, and we could have our own little Christmas party. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Telling her no would be harsh and hurtful. Telling her I was excited by the idea would be a vast overstatement. I wanted to see Georgie, but I wasn’t ready for her antics again just yet. And I didn’t want her to come right now, when my life was getting ready to turn upside down.

  I glanced at the calendar, realizing she was talking about being here in two weeks, and I panicked. I didn’t know how long the whole process of getting Dawson into the system would take, and I didn’t know if I would have to go to the courthouse or Social Services or something to take some sort of oath because I was temporarily acting as Ginger’s guardian.

  Then again, hadn’t I just been worried about being alone and not knowing how to handle it? Maybe I couldn’t count on Georgie to give up her flighty ways and come stay with me, but I could impress upon her the gravity of the situation, and maybe she could come more often and help me out when she was here. Since she adored Ginger, I didn’t see her refusing my request.

  But first, I would have to be okay with hers. “A week before, huh? Well, I hate to break it to you, but I had big plans to start campaigning for President, and I’m not sure where I’ll be that day.”

  “You are ridiculous, Mari. Do you know that? So, do I get to come? I promise to be all ears so you can tell me what’s going on. My only request is that we make popcorn balls to munch on while we chat. I have the feeling it might be a very long talk on a very late night, and I really need popcorn balls to stay awake and alert.”

  She succeeded in making me laugh. “Just send me your flight information. I’m sure Ginger would love to come pick you up at the airport.”

  “Great! You steal that little girl, and you tell Dawson she’s mine for however long I get to stay. Probably three days, and I can pick up work on a fight back home the last day.”

  “It sounds like a plan.” I nearly choked on the words, thinking I wouldn’t have to demand Ginger’s presence. By the time Georgie got here, Dawson would probably be locked up, and I’d be on my own, raising a daughter by myself. “I’ll see you then.” I hung up and took a deep breath, pushing down the threat of nausea one last time.

  With nothing else to do, I decided to turn in early. It might do me some good, if I actually managed to sleep. I was exhausted, and I hoped it would help me find a peaceful slumber.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  I expected the week to drag on, considering I was still battling episodes of nausea and a definite lack of appetite. When I did feel hunger pangs, my taste was finicky at best. But I hadn’t accounted for the serious amount of responsibility that would keep me busy and distracted. I went back to work, and my students seemed particularly excitable and not on their best behavior. I chalked it up to being so close to the holidays, but it made things difficult for me.

  On top of that, I had Ginger most of the time. There was laundry, food, and bathing for her, not to mention her need for actual attention. I underestimated how draining all that could be. I didn’t resent the time and energy I spent on her. It just came as a shock, and I wondered how on earth Dawson had balanced being part of the Valves with raising a young girl, especially as an infant. I could barely handle two of the three meals a day and a nightly bath.

  I was also tasked with getting ready for Christmas. I had a daughter to buy presents for, and my sister would be coming before then, so I had to figure out a present and dinner for her, as well. I also had to determine sleeping arrangements since I only had one guest room, and I didn’t want to relegate anyone to the couch.

  All of it added up to Friday coming much sooner than I’d anticipated. I wasn’t the least bit ready, and when Dawson texted me to let me know that Ginger would be going straight home with one of her friends, I nearly panicked. My stomach was out of sorts, I hadn’t decided what I was going to wear, and I hadn’t thought about how quickly I’d become attached to having Ginger around all the time. The idea of letting someone else – and that someone not even being her father – take care of her for an entire evening and night made it hard to breathe.

  I’d have to get over that, but the reaction was strong and emphasized everything else I was feeling. After school, I rushed home, determined to look my best for my last date, and I hopped in the shower. Dawson had texted again, saying he would pick me up at six, and I was already short on time. Clean and fresh, I went through several outfits, only to find I’d lost a significant amount of weight over the last few days, at least one dress size and two sizes in jeans. Nothing fit right.

  I had to rig something up, and I chose a lavender dress that didn’t fit like a bag, still retaining some shape on me. I found a wide silver scarf and fashioned it into a sash that gathered the loose waist behind me with the knot I tied, and it looked fairly natural and much better fitted. I wrinkled my nose at my bare legs and decided a pair of black leggings with black ankle boots would work well. After all, it was cold outside, and it wouldn’t be particularly outlandish.

  Satisfied that I didn’t look like a wraith, I went to the bathroom and started with hair and makeup, taking my time to assure my eyeliner and mascara were perfect, and I dried my hair and styled it, braiding it and wrapping it into a bun out of the way and still stylish at the top of my head.

  It left my face a little void of adornment, and I had to dig out some silver earrings, leaves that dangled, and some matching bangles for my wrists, but finally, the outfit seemed complete. I took a deep breath, realizing I had already used up a lot of my reserves, and I took a seat at the kitchen table with a hot cup of green tea infused with ginseng. I needed all the strength I could get.

  As I drank and thought about the evening, I felt invigorated again. I hated the idea that this would be like saying goodbye, but I forced that thought away and tried to focus on the fac
t that I was going to be with Dawson, and no one could take the joy of the night away from me, including my own neurotic subconscious mind.

  The knock at the door made my heart flutter, and I jumped out of the chair a little too fast, making myself dizzy. I had to force myself to eat something tonight, or I wouldn’t have the strength to enjoy what I wanted so badly from Dawson. I walked slowly, gaining my balance, and when I opened the door, I felt a rush of desire swell up over me. He stood there in black jeans that fit so tight I could see the imprint of his cock inside them and a black collared shirt with a bolt of silver lightning down each side. His boots were newly shined, and his cocky smile was the one I had grown used to before everything went to hell in a handbasket.

  “Hi,” he said simply.

  I couldn’t hold back the grin of appreciation that tugged at my lips, and I moved aside so he could come in. “Hi yourself,” I replied, glancing at his ass while I closed the door. It looked amazing in those jeans, and I considered asking if we actually had to go out. I would have been perfectly happy staying in, getting naked, and memorizing every last inch of his body. But I wanted it all, and I was going to have it.