Titan (EEMC Book 2)

by Bijou Hunter

  Chili is a happy baby, but she’s a terrible sleeper. Mama has to help so Anders and I can enjoy a full night’s rest. Anders vaguely remembers his grandmother saying how he didn’t sleep a lot as a baby. Of course, he can’t trust those memories or her word. Still, I like to believe Chili takes after her papa.

  Anders often sits outside and just stares at his daughter. She is easily entertained and will suck on her fist while looking back at him. His love for Chili is so powerful that I never worry he’ll lose his temper with her. If Anders feels himself growing agitated from the noise or his desire for heroin or just anything, he’ll step away. He’s learning more about himself. I like to believe he was reborn when his daughter entered the world.

  We never use any birth control for women. Instead, I track my cycle, and Anders wears condoms during my most fertile days. The doctor said I should avoid pregnancy for several years because of the surgery. I see no downside to an age gap for my children. Dove, Future, and I are over five years apart. Bronco’s daughters have gaps in their ages too, yet they get along well.

  Then, after almost two years, Anders feels a yearning for another baby. Our first month without being careful creates our son.

  Bear looks so much like Anders—big, blond, and blue-eyed. They even have the same pout. But our son’s stubborn personality mirrors mine. Despite Anders’s troubled heart, he’s naturally good-natured. Maybe even a little shy. People saw his size and turned him into a weapon, but his heart is so gentle. I’m the hardheaded one.

  Taking after her papa, Chili often stands back and watches people, too. At the Woodlands’ monthly—or weekly when the honeys feel especially insane—parties, Anders and Chili are usually located in a corner. She’ll sit on his lap, holding his beer as he feeds her appetizers. Meanwhile, I like to carry Bear on my back as I walk around, saying hello to everyone. I’m especially friendly to those people who don’t want to see me.

  Future does well in the Woodlands, making lots of friends. However, I often worry he’ll lose his innocence after seeing all the toys the other kids own. So far, my little brother doesn’t care about video games or television. He’d rather play outside or draw.

  Future remains Mama’s shadow, following her around most days. His favorite thing is the atrium, where he’s responsible for an entire row of plants. My brother often asks for a pet. Anders says he might be okay with a dog. I’m leaning toward parakeets that we can stick in another room when they get noisy. With three young children running around barefoot all the time, I want to avoid pets that poop on the ground.

  During her time in the Woodlands, Dove learns to be herself. Sometimes, she joins Summer for teenage antics. Other times, she plays dolls with Sidonie and Desi. Having Papa’s pictures has helped soothe her broken heart, but she still wipes her face whenever anxious. My sister’s scars won’t disappear any more than Anders’s can. They’re a part of them now.

  The summer Chili turns one, Anders drives our family to Florida to visit the Dandelions. My grand sequoia doesn’t hide his worries well, especially when everyone greets us with such warmth. He looks at me with the panicked eyes of a man thinking he’s being left behind.

  “If it’s not too difficult, could we drive here each year?” I ask, during our first night at the commune as our family sits together in a circle outside the main hall. “Like a pilgrimage, where we rekindle our Dandelion ways.”

  Anders exhales with relief so loudly that Chili and Future look concerned. I lean against his arm and smile up at his handsome face.

  “This isn’t our home,” I whisper. “We live in Ohio.”

  Sensing Anders’s fear hasn’t quite disappeared, Mama says, “We’ve learned how to live in your world. I’m spoiled now. If I don’t feel well, I can make a telephone call to have food delivered. This commune offers many blessings, but that kind of luxury isn’t one of them.”

  Dove smiles at Anders. “And we have a pool.”

  Future adds, “Yep,” since he doesn’t really understand what we’re talking about.

  “You built a big, beautiful house and then waited for us to find you,” I say, squeezing his hand as Chili relaxes in his lap. “Now, our family is together with space to grow.”

  After our reassuring words, Anders no longer fears visiting the Dandelion Collective in Florida. He enjoys his time with people who don’t care what he’s done in his past. They welcome him in the same way they accept everyone. Even after what the government did in Indiana, the Dandelions didn’t harden their hearts.

  Occasionally, I imagine a different story where the Dandelions welcome Anders into the commune. That’s how he and I meet and begin our journey together. In many stories, over many lifetimes, Anders and I are drawn to each other. In some, he’s the strong one, and I’m broken. In others, we’re both broken. In a few, we’re both healthy. We experience so many ways to find each other and fall in love. And every story is beautiful.

  ANDERS

  I ought to listen to my gut more. As a kid, I often went against what it was telling me. I didn’t rat out my grandparents or run away. Though I believed I was being smart, I really just let fear guide me.

  My gut also warned me about trusting Melanie and taking my first hit of heroin. After a childhood spent ignoring its advice, I didn’t listen.

  But, when my gut told me to seek out Bronco and find a new home in Elko, I finally followed the path it suggested.

  And when my gut begged me to keep returning to Pixie despite knowing I was acting like an idiot and lying to my president, I obeyed.

  These days, my gut and I are on the same page. No longer do I let the noise in my head distract me.

  Painting the house’s interior was my gut speaking up, saying I had tastes of my own. I needed to make my mark.

  My gut told me having a baby with Pixie so soon would work out. And Chili proves to be an easy child to raise.

  So, when my gut insists kid number three should be our last, I ask Pixie if we can stop after Sequoia.

  My honey doesn’t care how many we have. Her brain isn’t wired to keep track of what’s too many or not enough. The only time I see her truly put her foot down involves the topic of a dog. She really doesn’t want to clean up their shit. That’s why we finally adopt a cat for Future. Our new black furball—Fruity—only does her shitting in a box located in the laundry room.

  I don’t know why my gut thinks three is enough. Probably because Bronco has four—three blood children and Desi. Now, I’ll have three blood children and Future.

  The kid isn’t my boy. I ought to view him as my little brother, much like Dove feels like my sister. Except Future has no father. Perry disowned him. While the boy might never call me dad, I’m the only father he’ll know growing up.

  Plus, the house has four bedrooms upstairs with the boys eventually at one end of the walkway and the girls at the other. The setup is perfect for four kids.

  Besides, with the C-sections, Pixie really shouldn’t have many more babies. And I think she might be sick of pregnancy and recovering from the surgeries. She never complains, though. Our babies are worth any pain.

  I’m not surprised Pixie is a great mother. She plays with her siblings every day, always offering warmth and guidance. Of course, those abilities would transfer to our kids. I was more worried about my fathering skills.

  Whenever I got freaked out by how small Chili was and how big I felt in comparison, Pixie would have Future climb in my lap. I’ve had this scrawny little man in my arms more times than I can count. I’ve never dropped him. My big hands never broke anything or squished him. Why can’t I be just as gentle with my daughter?

  Chili is a great first child. She looks like her mother except with my blue eyes and blond hair. She smiles at two months and never stops. I even catch her grinning when she throws a fit. She’s a bubbly creature with her family, but a little shy around others. I often wonder what I was like at her age. Nothing I remember feels real anymore. But the past also bores me. There’s so much to
keep my mind busy with in the present.

  By the time Bear comes along, I’m a confident father. So, of course, my boy gives me more trouble than his sister. The kid looks just like I did in the old pictures I dug up after my grandparents died. Bear is all me on the outside, but he’s got his mama’s heart. He laughs loudly and will eat anything. He loves action flicks and running as fast as his legs will take him. Our only son doesn’t get tripped up by his big feet as much as I remember doing. Unlike his old man, he loves jumping high on the trampoline.

  All my kids are tall. Even our smallest at birth, Sequoia, shoots up once she hits two. She looks most like Pixie with her deep dark eyes and thick brown hair. When she takes charge, Sequoia reminds me of Fairuza. Our girl is a natural-born leader with a big smile and a bigger personality. She’s also quick to throw shit, though Chili has better control and hits her targets more often.

  Over time, I build strong relationships with every member of the Yabo family. Dove and I even found our special thing back when Chili was still in Pixie’s belly.

  As a way to deal with stress, I took up jogging in the morning. Every dawn, when the air was crisp, I headed out to run around the Woodlands. One morning, Dove appeared in sneakers and sweats and asked if she could join me. I knew she lacked the strength and endurance to handle more than a few blocks.

  I wasn’t wrong, either. Dove ended up resting on the curb in front of Akron’s house while I finished my lap around the community. When I returned, she stopped listening to music on her phone and ran home with me.

  Most mornings, she came along. By the next year, she could run nonstop and was healthier than she’d been since living at the Dandelion Collective. Some mornings, we talked. Usually, we enjoyed the quiet.

  Dove isn’t as emotionally strong as her mom and sister. Seeing her father shot crippled her in a way it didn’t Pixie. Dove’s heart is softer, more easily scarred. I understand her need for quiet contemplation. Also, why she craves a father figure. I sought out the same thing from Bronco.

  After more than three years, my president and I finally become friends after Pixie enters my life. Even spending nearly every day with Bronco and Lowell, I could never connect. I didn’t know how to be around people in a real way. Pixie and her family changed the wiring in my brain in many ways.

  Our kids being friends obviously helps me bond with Bronco. He’s also amused by how his sister, Barbie, buddied up with Fairuza. But his favorite person in our house has to be Pixie. Bronco claims seeing her nail DeAnna in the face with a watermelon is in the top ten favorite moments of his life.

  There’s no way I can pick only ten great moments with my honey. Pixie remains my obsession even after years together. So many small things make me love her. Like riding home to find Pixie and Dove walking hand in hand down the street together. Or seeing Pixie roll in the grass with our kids. Or the sight of her spending an afternoon creating extensive chalk designs on the back patio. Or enjoying her cuddled on the couch with our beautiful children while smiling at me. Or when we fuck, and I get stuck in my head and want to look away. Pixie always forces my gaze to remain on her. She never lets me forget how she sees the man I really am.

  At times, I struggle with the fact that I don’t deserve this life. My past didn’t disappear just because I can’t remember most of it. I’m a bad man who, with other bad men, did bad things. Yet, somehow, I managed to win the heart of someone as pure as Pixie, gained a mother, sister, and brother, and created three big-hearted children.

  Before my flower child, I felt like a repulsive weed. Deserving or not, I’m now part of a beautiful garden.

  THE END

  “FROST” SNEAK PEEK

  EEMC #3

  Coming: Winter 2020/2021

  Conor “Frost” Jessup has been groomed to take over his uncle’s president spot in the Elko Executioners. His larger-than-life father helped found the motorcycle club before dying in a bloody ambush years ago. Since then, Conor’s entire focus has been on preparing to lead the EEMC. Until the day he meets a woman he’s willing to give up everything for.

  Monroe Hobbs always relied on the kindness of family. Now, her crime boss uncle expects to be repaid for opening his home to her years ago. When he demands Monroe marry a violent man to help his business, she goes searching for her real father—the vice president of the Elko Executioners Motorcycle Club.

  Soon, Conor and Monroe discover a comfort together that neither expects. Yet, can their budding romance survive the demands of their powerful families?

  DAMAGED SERIES-RELATED BOOKS READING ORDER

  Note: These books are written so they can be read as standalones, but the list below is the preferred order regarding character introductions.

  Damaged 1-7 (Sunday Morning is a prequel while In the Wind takes place a decade after book 7)

  Ramsey Security 1-3 (book 3 links the most to the other series and introduces Angus Hayes)

  Junkyard Dog

  Serrated Brotherhood MC 1-3

  Rawkfist MC 1-3

  Right Amount of Wrong (second generation Damaged novel)

  White Horse 2-4 (second generation)

  Reapers MC: Ellsberg Chapter 1-3 (second generation)

  Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter 1-3 (second generation) (bks 1 & 2 take place prior to Ellsberg bk3)

  Reapers MC: Shasta Chapter 1-3 (second generation (bk1 takes place before Ellsberg, bk 2 & 3 take place before Ellsberg bk3)

  EEMC 1-3 (Bk1 follows Shasta Chapter Bk3)

  ***The Little Memphis MC, Rawlins Heretics MC, and Spent Shell series, along with my standalone books, are currently unconnected to the Damaged timeline.

  ABOUT BIJOU

  Living in Indiana with my three sweet sons, three wacky cats, and one super mom, I love horror movies, Call of Duty, Deusdaecon Reviews, and sitcoms canceled before their time.

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