by Geri Glenn
“I have a few things to talk to the lawyer about. I won’t be long. You have your iPad, so just play a game out here in the waiting room.”
Bryce stares at me for a second before turning back to his game. I watch him as he plays, head bent over the tablet, noticing not for the first time, how much he looks like Paul. There is no question that he’s his father’s son.
Bryce shares his dad’s dark hair and wide shoulders. He’s taller and broader than most boys his age, and the way he narrows his eyes on the screen with a scrunched up nose is the same way I’d seen Paul looking at papers on his desk at school, or reading a text on his phone. Luckily, I see a lot of myself in him too. The smattering of freckles across his nose, his chocolate brown, heavily lashed eyes, and the tilt to his lips when he smiles are all me. Unfortunately, he also got my sharp tongue and quick wit.
“Miss McGrath?”
I look up quickly at the sound of my name to see a sharply dressed woman standing in the doorway. She doesn’t seem to have a speck of make-up on her face, and her hair is pulled back into a severe bun at the back of her head. She looks over the top of her glasses at me, then to Bryce.
I stand and begin walking towards her, calling back over my shoulder. “You wait here, Bud.” He doesn’t reply.
I follow the severe looking woman down the hall to a door off to the right. She walks inside and indicates a chair opposite her large wooden desk for me to sit in. The room is stuffy, and smells like the old legal textbooks that line every inch of the walls.
I had chosen Stella McRae as my lawyer because she accepts legal aide, and because she could work around my work schedule. I have no idea if she’s going to be good enough to keep Paul from my son, but I need to hear what she has to say.
I watch as she sits primly in her chair and pushes her glasses up on her nose. She grabs a stack of papers and taps them against her desk, then turns to me. “Miss McGrath, I have reviewed the affidavit provided by your ex-husband’s attorney, and I must say, he has a strong case.”
My heart sinks. “But—I haven’t heard your side of the story yet,” she continues. “I have a long list of questions to ask you, and then you can ask me any questions you might have. Sound good?”
I nod, my body shaking with adrenaline. Just being in this office is my worst nightmare. The fact that I have to answer this lady’s questions to find out if I have a shot at keeping custody of my own son has me wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.
She picks up her pen and pulls a fresh legal sized pad of yellow paper from a drawer in her desk. “How long were you and the plaintiff married?”
“We never married,” I say, my voice shaking as I try to calm my trembling body. “Paul was my boyfriend in high school for a couple of months. I got pregnant shortly after my sixteenth birthday, but Paul couldn’t handle it. I never spoke to him after I had Bryce until just over a year ago, when he contacted me on Facebook.”
She eyes me for a moment and sits back in her seat. She removes her glasses and places the end of one arm between her lips as she stares at me. “So you’re telling me that Bryce’s father has only known your son for a year?”
I nod, and my heart soars as a wolfish grin spreads across her face. “Oh, honey. Start from the beginning.”
I tell her everything, and it doesn’t take long. When it comes to Paul’s involvement in our lives, there isn’t much to tell. She asks a lot of questions, and I explain to her how my parents disowned me, and that Jackie’s family had helped me out. I explain how I’d worked two jobs and gone to university to get my nursing degree while Bryce was just a toddler, and how Paul had kept Bryce out late, and how he’d grabbed my arm. I even tell her about the shitty things he’s said about me to my own son, causing him unnecessary stress. She was especially interested when I told her about Bryce’s behaviour since Paul came into his life.
When I finish, Stella steeples her fingers and looks off into space. I sit silently, waiting for what she has to say. With a deep breath, she leans forward on her desk. “Okay, there’s good news and there’s bad news. You choose which you want first.”
I don’t hesitate. “Bad news.”
“Access. He’s entitled to it.” I open my mouth to protest, but she holds her hand up for me to stop. “No judge is going to deny a willing father access to his child without reasonable cause. That being said, if he’s as rough and gruff as you say he is, we most definitely have a case of coercive behaviour here. I say we push for supervised visits right off the bat, and strip him of that right once we prove our case.”
Makes sense. If the court is going to grant him access while we’re working this out, I’d much rather it be supervised than not.
“Now the good news. Your son is old enough to have a say in this.”
My eyes widen. “Bryce doesn’t know anything about this.”
“I’m not trying to tell you how to parent your son, Miss McGrath, but I have no doubt in my mind that he knows something’s going on, especially if his behaviour has been off lately. Talk to him. Kids are intelligent and extremely perceptive. I think you might be surprised by what he has to say about all this.”
I bite my lip, trying to imagine Bryce’s reaction when he realizes that his father wants to take him away from me. That kind of decision seems like an awful lot to lay at the feet of a child. Damn Paul for putting us through this.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jase
The sun is shining and the birds are singing as I wait for Ellen to come out of the nursing home. It’s a good fucking day. My second bike is looking sexy as hell, and I already have a couple of buyers interested in it. I haven’t seen any sign of any gang members with guns following me, and I’m about to have a sexy nurse press her tits into my back for the second time. Today is my fucking day.
Ellen walks out, her hand up to shield her eyes. When she sees me leaning against my bike, she keeps walking. God, she’s gorgeous. Her short blond hair is cut in a trendy style that leaves it long in the front, sweeping off to the side, and buzzed short along the sides and back.
Normally, I like my women with long hair, but when it comes to Ellen’s, I don’t even care. She could be fucking bald and my dick would still get hard just looking at her. Besides, the short hair draws attention to her bright eyes and high cheekbones.
I watch her approach, wondering how a woman can make scrubs look so damn sexy, when she says, “You don’t give up, do you?”
A grin spreads across my face. “Not when I want something.”
She laughs, handing me her purse to stow. I take it from her and widen my eyes dramatically. “What the hell? This weighs at least ten pounds more than it did yesterday. Seriously, woman, what do you have in this fuckin’ thing?”
She’s already fastening her own chin strap on the helmet, and doesn’t bother answering me. I stow the bag and climb on, waiting until she settles her ass on the seat behind me.
“You gotta get home right away?” I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder.
“No, actually. Not today.”
I start up my ride. “Good,” I call back. “I’m taking you on a tour.” With that, I pull back on the throttle and we head straight for the road. She wraps her arms tightly around my waist, and I revel in the feeling of her body pressed against mine.
I’ve had a lot of women on the back of my bike, but none of them ever had staying power. They were only there as a way to get them from wherever they were, and into my bed. Ellen is different. It feels natural having her back there, like it’s her rightful place.
I keep my eyes peeled for any signs of the Crips, but there are none. Maybe after they delivered their message, they’re backing off, for now. Gunner won’t stand for the bullshit they pulled yesterday. We have to retaliate.
The Rockcliffe Parkway is busier than I’d expected, but it’s a beautiful day. Apparently, we’re not the only tourists out for a drive. We ride along in silence, the only communication being when Ellen’s arm comes up and points at something
worth looking at. The green trees and the crystal clear water are beautiful, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the pressure to entertain. I get to relax and just enjoy her company.
We motor down the road, passing trees, lakes, and fields of corn. The simplicity of it all is something I feel like I’ve needed. I mean, when was the last time I’d just gone for a ride to clear my head? Far too long.
After about forty minutes on the road, Ellen leans forward to call into my ear, “I need to get home now.”
I do what I need to do to get the bike moving in the right direction. Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up to her front door. Ellen slides off the bike, looking slightly bow legged.
I point down to her thighs. “You need to ride more.”
“I really do. God, that was exactly what I needed. Things have been kind of crazy for me lately, and I didn’t know just how much I needed to escape for a little while.
“Crazy how? Charlie mentioned the other day that you were going through some stuff.”
Ellen presses her lips together and shakes her head before reaching to undo the chin strap on her helmet. “Don’t you worry about it. Just know that I really enjoyed myself.”
Sliding off the bike, I take a step towards her. “Don’t do that. Don’t blow me off.” Reaching out, I hook my finger under the chin strap and use it to pull her face to mine, my lips mere inches from hers. “In case you haven’t noticed, I want to be around you. I want to know all about you, El. But I can’t do that if you keep pushing me away.”
“Mom? What’s going on?”
Our heads whip to the side, and standing in front of us is one pissed-off looking kid. I can tell just by looking at him that he’s Ellen’s. He has her eyes.
“Bryce! What are you doing home? I thought that you were—”
“Jimmy had a doctor’s appointment.” He waves a hand in my direction. “Who’s this guy?”
I watch as Ellen stands there, mouth hanging open in shock, so I take a step forward and stick out my hand. “Hey, man. I’m Jase, a friend of your mom’s.”
The kid’s eyes narrow on my outstretched hand longer than necessary before wrinkling his nose at me in disgust and storming back inside the house.
Ellen’s hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Shit. I’m sorry, Jase. I gotta go.” Whipping the helmet off, she thrusts it into my arms and runs after her son.
All I can do is stare after her, one thought running through my head.
Ellen has a fucking kid?
Ellen
“Bryce, we need to talk,” I call through his closed bedroom door. The response I get is the sound of his music being cranked up even louder to drown out the sound of my voice. I twist the doorknob and find that it’s locked.
Using the heel of my hand, I pound on the door loudly. “Bryce Alexander! You open up this door or I will take it off its hinges!”
Down the hall, the phone rings, distracting me from screaming at my kid. Worried that it might be work, I hurry into the living room and scoop up the receiver from where it lays abandoned on the couch. It’s Julie.
“Hello?”
“Hey, girl. How’s it going?”
“Not so good at the moment.”
Julie’s voice rises. “What? Why not? And what is that awful noise? It sounds like you’re at a concert, for God’s sake.”
I sigh and move out onto the front step so I can hear myself think. “No concert. Just Bryce throwing a tantrum.”
“Bryce?” she says, surprise dripping from her voice. “My Bryce? I don’t believe it. What’s he so upset about.”
I sigh again, this time heavier. “Yes, your Bryce. He’s not the angel you think he is, you know. Anyways, he was supposed to be at his friends after school until suppertime, so I went—” Crap. I don’t know how much to tell her. I hadn’t mentioned my recent encounters with Jase.
“Spill it, girl,” she says, suddenly all business.
“Fine. I went for a ride with Jase on his motorcycle.” Julie’s loud squeal pierces my ear. “When he dropped me off today, we were talking out on the sidewalk. I think he was about to kiss me, but Bryce walked out, and he was not happy.”
“Who cares what Bryce thinks? Has he even met Jase?”
“No,” I reply, “but that’s not the point. The point is, Bryce obviously isn’t ready to see me with a man.”
“Oh please,” she scoffs. “Look, I love Bryce like he’s my own. You know that. But Bryce isn’t ever going to be ready to see you with a man because he’s never seen you with a man. He needs to get over it and learn to share his mommy. It’s different if he doesn’t like him because the guy’s an asshole or something, but to not like him simply because you do? Well, that’s just selfish.”
I chew my lip. She’s right. It’s not that I’ve never dated since Bryce was born, it’s more that I’d never let Bryce see me dating or meet my dates. I have no intentions of introducing him to someone until I know we’re serious. And so far, that hasn’t happened.
“Look, Ellen. You’re a strong, successful woman. Not only that, but you’re gorgeous. Any man that meets you is going to want you. But Jase isn’t just any man. I saw the way he looked at you that night in the bar. He likes you.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course he likes me. We’re friends.”
“No, I mean he likes you, likes you. That man has no interest in being just friends. Let me ask you a question.”
“Okay.”
“Do you like him?”
“Of course I like him. He’s funny, he’s gorgeous, and he smiles all the time. But he’s also a slut. I don’t like that part about him. I have a son to raise, Julie. I don’t want to get caught up in biker whore drama and regular STD exams.”
Julie laughs. “Biker whore drama?”
“I’m serious, Julie! The club has women that hang around at the clubhouse, without any panties, waiting to “service” the guys. It’s disgusting. Not only that, but they get all territorial if someone like me comes around. Charlie and my friend Laynie have had their share of biker whore drama. It’s a real thing.”
“Whatever.” She chuckles. “You need to do what makes you happy, Ellen. And if that means hooking up with Jase on occasion, so be it. If that means a serious relationship with a sexy man whose eyes scream “fuck me,” that’s even better. Either way, Bryce doesn’t need to know the dirty details, and he doesn’t get a say. He’s your kid. You’re his parent. Besides, Bryce isn’t going to be around forever, you know. In about seven years, he’s going to go off to college, meet some chick, and only be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas. By then, your tits will be saggy and your pubes will be grey. It’ll be too late to find a man then. You willing to take that risk?”
“My pubes will not be grey in seven years. Besides, I’ll shave them off if they do.”
“Whatever. Give that poor muscled biker a chance, okay? And who knows, maybe he can take care of your little Paul problem. Make him swim with the fishes.”
“I think that’s what gangsters say, Jules, not bikers.”
“You get the picture.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re an ass.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jase
I’m leaning over the partially built motor in the garage, wondering how the fuck I didn’t know that Ellen had a kid, when Gunner walks in. He stands in the doorway and looks around at the mess of parts lying all over the floor. I put down my wrench and grab a rag, standing up as I attempt to wipe some of the grease from my fingers.
I motion to the floor. “It doesn’t look like much, but it won’t take long to have this baby up and runnin’.”
He nods and takes a step inside. “Looks like you’ve come a long way in just a couple of days. Didn’t you just start this one?”
I look over at him, surprised. I haven’t been keeping Gunner up to speed on my work out here, intending to tell him when my quota was met so he could see how hard I’ve been working. “Yeah, but I finally got the rest
of the parts in yesterday. It’ll go fairly quick if all goes according to plan.”
Gunner walks over to the motor and checks out the different parts, kneeling low to get a better look. His finger runs along one of the cylinder heads. “She’s gonna be a fast one,” he declares.
“I’m countin’ on it.”
He stands and heads over to the work bench where he leans his large frame against it. Gunner is a big man, and his presence in the room, though welcome, is still commanding. “Reaper told me you sold your first bike.”
I toss the rag on the pile in the corner. “Looks like Reaper doesn’t know when to mind his own business.”
Gunner chuckles. “He told me because he thinks I’m being a dick about all this. He’s proud of you, and wanted me to know.”
“He said that?” I ask in disbelief.
“Fuck no. He just told me that you already sold a bike, and that it was pretty fuckin’ amazing. Said you would’ve kept it for yourself, but were tryin’ to prove somethin’ to me. Told me I was too hard on you.”
“We are talking about Reaper here, right? Big, hairy fucker, with hands the size of dinner plates?” I can’t imagine that grumpy bastard saying any of that in my defense.
“Yeah. Fucked with my head too.”
I don’t say anything. What is there to say?
“Look, Jase. I want you to know that I think you’re an incredible mechanic. I’ve seen your work, and it’s always the best. I’m proud of you too.” My chest gets tight as I stare back at him. “I know your old man didn’t have much to do with raising you, and you had to figure out a lot of shit on your own. I watched you grow up, and I know it wasn’t easy for you. I just wanted you to know that I see you workin’ your ass off out here, and I see how hard you’re tryin’ to prove me wrong. Keep it up.”
I blink. “I plan on it.”
He grins. “I know you do. And I’m countin’ on you to prove my ass wrong.”
His phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and grumbles down at the number before tapping the screen. “Yeah?” I watch as his expression goes from annoyed to alert, then settles on cold and angry. With his brows drawn low, he barks into the phone, “When?”