My little circle had grown once again over the last few months, the members and their wives slowly but surely connecting with me like they should have in the beginning. It was odd, and I wasn’t completely comfortable with it, but I kind of liked it too. It was like a big family, a completely dysfunctional and awkward one.
“Sure,” I replied to Slider, glancing up to Cody for affirmation.
“Yeah, man, come on in.”
“How you feelin’?” Slider asked as he made his way farther into the room.
“Okay. Tired.”
“I bet.” He limped nervously toward the bed, trying to hide his unease. The man everyone else feared was uncomfortable around me, and it was just the slightest bit endearing.
“Damn, she doesn’t look nothin’ like you,” he said honestly, immediately snapping his mouth closed in embarrassment.
Cody laughed.
“Nope. Thanks for pointing that out,” I answered dryly.
“Fuck.” He hissed through his teeth, rubbing a hand over his beard.
“It’s fine,” I reassured him. “Want to hold her?”
“Uh, no. I better not.” He raised his hands out as if holding me off. “You hold her.”
“Aw, come on. You’re her grandpa,” I said in a wheedling tone.
I don’t know if it was the drugs they’d given me or the endorphins still flowing through me, but suddenly and without any warning, I realized that I loved Slider. Maybe not the way I’d love a parent—not the way I loved Gram—but maybe like I’d love a distant uncle. One that I knew loved me, but I didn’t feel quite comfortable with.
“Her grandpa?” he questioned, his body freezing.
“Uh . . .” I looked to Cody, who was watching me with an amused smile. “Well, yeah. Aren’t you? I mean—”
“I can be her grandpa,” Slider assured me quickly. “Sure. Yeah.”
We watched each other in uncomfortable silence until Cody lifted the baby gently from my arms and climbed off the bed. He walked around to Slider, and without any warning laid her against Slider’s chest, forcing him to wrap his hands around her little body.
“Whoa,” Slider mumbled, looking into her face in awe. “She’s small. Really small. They check her out and everything?”
“You wouldn’t think she was small if you’d just pushed her out.” I’d been joking, then realized he was deadly serious. “No, yeah, she’s fine,” I assured him. “They said everything looked good. She’s not even that small for a newborn.”
“Good,” he replied with a nod. “You were bald too. Natasha tell you that?”
“No.” I cleared my throat as an emotion I couldn’t name hit me. “No, she didn’t talk to me about stuff like that.”
“Ah, well, she didn’t really see you much when you were this little.” His comment did nothing to help the knot in my throat. I gripped Cody’s hand as he sat back down beside me, and he leaned over to kiss the side of my still sweaty head.
“You were bald,” Slider told me again. “And you were tiny. Too tiny. But it didn’t take you long to catch up where you were supposed to be. Probably because you never fuckin’ slept, always eatin’.”
He glanced up to gauge my reaction, and whatever he saw on my face made him continue. “You were a pain in the ass,” he told me with a smile. “Always wantin’ to be held, refused to sleep, hated havin’ your diaper changed. Always needin’ somethin’, swear to Christ, I didn’t fuck Vera for months.” His cheeks turned ruddy as he realized what he’d just said.
“Great.” Cody huffed, and I elbowed him in the side as Slider scowled.
“You were lighter than this,” Slider continued, ignoring Cody. “Your skin was so pale, I could see all the tiny little veins in your head. Freaked me out, but Vera said it was normal.”
“Is she here?” I asked.
“Yeah, she’s been waitin’, pacin’ the floors,” he answered with a smile. “I know you don’t know her, don’t feel like she’s your parent, and that’s fine. We understand it. But Vera, well, she’s always considered you hers.”
I took a minute to digest his words, running over in my mind the months that I’d barely seen her, the times when I’d needed her but wouldn’t have let her near me if she’d tried. I wondered how that felt—knowing that the child you’d loved all their life didn’t want you anywhere near them—and I came to a decision.
“You can go get her if you want,” I said quietly, the words tasting weird on my tongue. “Wait, you can’t take the baby out with you!”
“Oh shit, right,” he answered, walking back to hand her to me. “I’ll be right back, she’ll be pleased as fuck. I’ll be right back.” His words were rambling and fast, and I felt my stomach jump as he leaned down and kissed my forehead before leaving the room.
I’d felt that stomach jolt only once before, when Slider had kissed the back of my head after slaying my demons a few years ago. I hadn’t liked the feeling then. My skin had felt too small for my body, crawling and itching until he’d walked away. But the sensation felt different sitting in that hospital with my daughter snuggled up close to my body. It felt . . . almost comforting.
“How about Cecilia?” I asked Cody abruptly.
“What?” he asked, distracted by running his fingers over our daughter’s hands.
“Do you like Cecilia?”
“Isn’t that the—”
“Yeah, that was my name. Before.”
“You sure, baby? Can’t exactly take it back once you decide,” he warned, making me second-guess myself.
“I guess not,” I said. Damn, it had seemed like a good idea. But maybe he was right, and I’d hate it once my mushy gushy feelings were gone again.
“I like it, Ladybug,” he replied, leaning down to kiss me softly on the lips. “I think it’s beautiful. I like that it gives her some of your history, that it’s something you can pass on to her. Plus, it’s the girliest name I’ve ever fucking heard, and my girl’s a princess. She needs a girly princess name.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, worried. God, who knew picking a name would be so completely nerve racking? How did people have the balls to name their kids weird shit? Weren’t they afraid they’d hate it later when they had to yell for Rufus or Tomahawk to come in for dinner every night?
“Yeah, Cecilia Rose Butler. Got a nice ring to it, right?”
“It kind of does,” I said, my mouth starting to curve up at the edges.
“Then that’s her name.” He leaned down again to take my mouth in a deep kiss. “God, I fucking love you.”
“Back atcha, handsome.”
“Hey,” Vera’s scratchy voice called from the doorway. “You want us to come back later?” She looked nervous, pulling on the bottom of her sweatshirt with fidgety hands.
“Come in!” I called cheerfully, trying to put her at ease.
Exhaustion was starting to set in, my movements growing sluggish as I leaned my head back against the pillows, but I refused to fall asleep yet. Having Vera in my hospital room seemed important somehow, and at first I couldn’t figure out why. But as she came toward the bed and leaned down to take a look at Cecilia, I understood.
I wanted to show off. Like a kid who brings an art project home from school, dying to show it to their parent for validation. I wanted her to be proud of me, as weird as that was. I wanted to show her that I could do something incredible. And a small part of me wanted her to know that so she’d know that I did just fine without her.
I’d never been completely rational . . . or nice.
“Oh, look at her,” she cooed, leaning over us but keeping her distance. “She looks just like you.”
I looked up in surprise, confused after the conversation we’d just had with Slider, and saw that she was completely sincere. She wasn’t trying to get on my good side, or blow smoke up my ass; in her mind Cecilia looked just like me, no matter the evidence to the contrary. I knew then that she was seeing what she wanted to see—a miniature version of her child.
&n
bsp; That’s when I began to love Vera.
“Want to hold her?” I asked groggily, nodding my head at her.
As soon as she’d picked Cecilia up, I turned my face into Cody’s chest. “Tired,” I mumbled, my eyes already closed. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right, Ladybug,” he replied, running his hand through my hair before cupping the back of my head. “I’ll take care of Cecilia. Get some sleep.”
I heard Vera inhale sharply but ignored it, falling asleep within seconds.
Later, I’d look through the photos that Callie took and see that Dragon and Brenna had brought Cameron to the hospital to visit us. The poor kid looked haggard as he’d held Cecilia in his arms, but strangely proud too—his chest puffed out in all the photos. I’d see photos of Grease helping Will hold the baby, the disgusted look on Will’s face changing the scene from something tender to something hilarious. Photos of the man they called Doc, unwrapping Cecilia and counting her fingers and toes. There were pictures of Slider and Vera, Grease and Callie, Dragon and Brenna, and Gram and Lily. But my favorite—the one I’d blow up and frame for Cecilia’s bedroom wall—was a picture of Cody sleeping on the bed next to me, his head resting against the top of mine, with Cecilia sleeping against his chest.
I’d slept through all of their visits. Giving birth was exhausting.
Chapter 40
Farrah
“Why the fuck are we doing this, again?” Cody complained, hanging cloth diapers on a little wooden rack I’d found at the dollar store.
“Because your daughter has sensitive fucking skin, and we can’t use any of the disposable brands,” I snapped back.
We were . . . struggling. A little. Okay, a lot.
Things hadn’t been easy since we’d come home from the hospital, and we were both feeling the lack of sleep. Gram had helped out, and for the first couple of weeks the women of the club had taken shifts, bringing dinner and staying to hold the baby so we could shower and nap. But the help had gradually tapered off, and now that Cecilia was almost three months old, we were pretty much on our own.
“I can’t believe she’s still sleeping,” he said with a sigh. “This must be a record . . . and it’s the middle of the day.”
“I know.” I sat down hard on the couch as he hung up the last diaper. “God, I don’t know if I want you to bend me over the kitchen table and fuck me, or take a freaking nap.”
“I vote kitchen table,” he mumbled before looking at me, then changed his mind. “Ah, a nap would probably be better.”
“I hate this.” I sniffled. “I just want a little time and energy to have sex.”
“She’ll figure it out, baby,” he reassured me. “She’s only two and a half months old.”
“She’s three months!”
“Right. Practically an old lady.”
“Shut up. I’m going to take a shower. Want to share?” I asked, dragging myself off the couch.
“Sure.” He followed me to the hallway, but paused when someone knocked on the front door. “I’ll be right there, Ladybug. Start the shower.”
I gave him a kiss and dragged myself to the bathroom. I didn’t care who was at the door; I just hoped he could get rid of them fast. We’d barely had any time alone since Cecilia was born, and we needed it. I was tired as hell, but even if we didn’t have sex, I’d be just as happy to touch his skin and feel him against me.
I was completely naked and waiting for the water to heat up when Cecilia started to cry. Shit. My boobs started leaking all over the place, and I scrambled to grab a towel off the rack so I didn’t drip all over the floor.
Fantastic.
I wrapped the towel around myself and headed toward where she was screaming in the living room. Why hadn’t Cody picked her up?
When I got to the end of the hallway, I slammed to a stop, taking in the scene in front of me.
Cody was frozen, staring at the woman whose husband had been killed as a traitor. Roberta. She was speaking, but I couldn’t hear her over Cecilia’s cries, so I hustled into the living room to calm the baby down. It only took me a second to get her latched on and a receiving blanket tossed over my shoulder. I was getting pretty damn good at the whole breast-feeding thing.
“I want to know why you killed her,” Roberta pleaded with Cody, her hands raised in supplication. “I know it was you, I hear the talk. I just don’t understand why she was there. Please, make me understand why my baby was in that place.”
“Go home, Roberta,” Cody said flatly, his tone making my stomach drop. “You know all there is to know.”
He started to close the door in her face, and she braced her hands against it. “Please, what if it was your baby? You’d want to know, right? Please! Please tell me what happened.”
Cody’s entire body flinched at her words, before tensing again. “Get the fuck outta my house,” he growled, slamming the door in her face as she cried.
“The fuck was that?” I whispered, tightening my hold on Cecilia.
“Not now, Farrah.” He brushed past me, walking toward the bedroom, and I spun to follow him.
“What the hell?”
“I gotta run in to the club for a little while,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Are you serious right now? I’m standing here practically naked with a baby attached to my boob and you’re leaving?”
“You got it under control, Ladybug,” he murmured, kissing my slack mouth. “Not like I can help ya anyway.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” I mumbled as he stepped away and started putting his keys and wallet into his pockets. “Why was Roberta here?”
“Nothing for you to worry about, baby,” he answered dismissively.
Things had been good between us for the last few months, great even. We’d been stressed, sure, but who wouldn’t be with a newborn baby? Underneath that stress had been something solid and sure. A safe place to land, a security net that I’d been so sure would hold.
As I watched him move around the room, I felt that security net start to fray.
I was losing him. Something was happening that I didn’t understand, but I could feel it, like the way the hair on my arms prickled during a lightning storm. He was going to run, and I had no choice but to stand there in a towel, feeding our daughter, and let him do it.
As he walked out the door, the security net snapped.
Chapter 41
Casper
What the fuck was Roberta thinking, coming to my apartment like that? I was so pissed I was shaking as I climbed on my bike. I’d wanted to hit something, to tear apart the house with my bare hands, and that was when I knew I had to get out of there.
Roberta was asking questions none of us had the answer to, and it brought up the questions that I hadn’t let myself think of in weeks. What had Carmella been doing there? How the fuck had she hooked up with the McCaffertys? Why the hell had she shot at us? It was a never-ending list of questions that we’d never have the answer to.
Farrah didn’t deserve to be fucked over by my mess, and I tried to shield her and Cecilia the best way I knew how—keep her entirely in the dark. I knew she worried. She’d looked at me more times than I could count with questions in her eyes, but I’d ignored it.
What would she think of me if she knew what I’d done? It didn’t matter that it was something I’d had to do. It didn’t matter that I’d probably saved her dad’s life. I’d shot a woman and killed her, no excuses erased that fact. Shame burned like fire in my gut. Women were supposed to be protected.
I’d been doing okay, trying to put that shit behind me and moving on with our life, but the fucking moment I’d dropped my guard down, it came back to haunt me.
Fucking Roberta. The club had given her more than enough money to live on—more than her traitorous old man had deserved—to keep her mouth shut and go away. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about her and her daughter; they did. They just knew that nothing good could
come from her hanging around the club after her man had been branded a traitor.
I shot out of the parking lot and made my way to the club. I needed a fight and a drink, not necessarily in that order. Shit, I wondered if I should call Gram when I got there to let her know that Farrah was home with the baby alone. She’d been fine on her own while I’d worked before, but the look on her face as I’d left made me question what was going on in her head.
She wanted answers that I wouldn’t give her.
“Hey, little brother!” Grease called out from one of the bays as I parked my bike in the forecourt. What had him so fucking chipper?
“Fuck off!” I called back, turning away from him to start for the main doors. I didn’t want to deal with his happy ass, or anyone else’s for that matter. I just wanted a fucking drink. I wanted to forget Roberta asking me how I would feel if it were Cecilia in Carmella’s shoes. It had sounded like a threat, even though I knew she hadn’t meant it that way.
“Whiskey,” I told the prospect standing behind the bar, shaking my head as he pulled out a glass. “Bottle.”
Then I sat down on one of the couches facing the pool table, and proceeded to drink myself into oblivion.
Chapter 42
Farrah
I was going to kill Cody.
He’d been gone all day, with no word to let me know when he’d be home or if he’d be home. By eight o’clock that night, I was practically climbing the walls.
He always did that shit, completely shutting down whenever something happened, leaving me standing there with a stupid look on my face and wondering what the fuck was going on. I was over it.
I glanced over at Cecilia, sleeping strapped into her car seat, and picked up my phone.
“Hello, best friend,” Callie said when she answered after the first ring.
“Are you at the club?”
“Yeah, the boys are having some pool tournament or something, so we’re here for the night. What’s up?”
“Is Cody there?”
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