Ends Here (The Good Ol’ Boys Spin-Off, #2)

by M. Robinson

  I shook my head, blindsided. “Gotta shitty way of fuckin’ showin’ it, Noah.”

  “I’m a Jameson, right?”

  I scoffed out, grabbing a few more things from the drawers, throwing them in my bags. Hurrying around the space, gathering more shit so I could leave. “The fuck you want?” I finally asked, knowing he didn’t come in my room for an afternoon fucking special where I'd tell him it was perfectly okay to continue loving and fucking my girl.

  He knew me better than that.

  “All I wanted was to tell ya was that we’ll always be brothers, Creed. Don’t matter how many times we kick each other’s asses. We’re blood.”

  “No shit,” I rasped, eyeing him. “I love ya, Noah, but I don’t have to fuckin’ like ya. And right now, that ain’t nothin’ but the truth.”

  He nodded, understanding. Throwing me the shirt that was on my bed. “Pops ended up bein’ more fucked up than I ever thought, huh? Thanks for takin’ care of that. Findin’ out the truth and all that shit.”

  “Didn’t do it for you. She’s my girl, baby brother. Been my fuckin’ girl for as long as I can remember. No matter how many times you fuck her, tell her you love her, take her to bed—don’t change the fact that she’s always gonna be mine.” I grabbed my bags off the bed, walking over the threshold to leave. I halted not looking back at him, addressing what I needed him to hear, “Shit happens. It’s life. You take care of her, treat her right like she fuckin’ deserves, yeah?”

  “Always.”

  I nodded. “You better or you’ll fuckin’ answer to me.” And with that I left, never once looking back.

  I made my way to the kitchen, opening the double sliding doors to the back patio. Letting the ocean breeze sweep through the house. I came to love the salty smell in the air as much as the scent of vanilla, both reminding me of who I lost. It didn’t get any easier as time went on, if anything it only got fucking harder.

  I grabbed a beer from my fridge, needing it after a long day at the garage. I had opened a motorcycle shop in downtown South Port, in a prime location where most of the local bikers hung out. Business was booming, for only being open for two months. Diesel and a couple other brothers worked for me. It was the only thing that kept my mind occupied. All I’d ever known were guns and bikes. It only made sense to start making money off it. It was easy to rent the space and get my business going. I never spent much of what I had earned throughout my four years in the military. Getting paid extra money for every deployment, risking my fucking life for everyone else’s. It was the only good that came out of being shipped overseas all those times.

  Plus, I still had most of the money I received from doing all the illegal shit for the Devil's Rejects. At the end of the day, something bad turned into something good. I donated a chunk of that money to Polarins, an organization dedicated to fighting against human trafficking, in Mia’s name. Figuring it was the least I could do with the corrupt cash.

  For the first time in my life, I was making some sweet ass choppers, living and making decisions on my own. I was on the straight and narrow. Finally free of the demons that I thought would haunt me forever, but something, someone, was always missing.

  Devil’s Rejects became non-existent, or at least our chapter did, right after Prez fell six feet under and I resigned as VP. No one wanted to be associated with the name that was now tainted with bad blood around our parts. I was in the process of getting another club in order, taking my time setting it up the way I wanted it to run. The brotherhood of the MC was all I’d ever known. We had a bond that I didn’t want to give up. I was just done with the illegal bullshit. Especially the bloodshed. I never wanted to be a 1%er in the first place, but it came with the territory I was born into. My new MC would cater to the true definition of a motorcycle club.

  Family.

  I finished my beer, throwing it in the trash. Warming myself something up for dinner. Hadn’t eaten all damn day, I was fucking starving. It was easy to get caught up in what I loved doing. Work became my distraction. Something to fill up my time and the void in my heart. The shop was all I had now. I spent more hours there than I did at home. Too many memories of what could have been floated around the big space, taunting me.

  Especially at night when I would lay in bed alone, wishing Mia was wrapped around me. I couldn’t bring myself to sell our house, even though it hurt every time I walked in the goddamn door. Knowing I wouldn’t see Mia’s beautiful face greeting me.

  Not a day, an hour, or a motherfucking second went by that I didn’t think about her. Hoping she was happy, even if it was my brother’s doing. She deserved all that and more.

  Sometimes Diesel would drag my ass up to the bars with him, trying to score some pussy. I never had a problem getting fucking laid, but I honestly had no interest in it. Women in general. I was fine being on my own, knowing that at one point in my life I at least had my girl. I knew what love was, and a huge part of me didn’t want to give that up. Often skipping out early, much to Diesel’s disappointment. Hounding me, saying I had turned into a lovesick fucking pussy.

  I threw my dirty dish in the sink, deciding to wash it later. Wanting to take a shower first, needing to wash away all the dirt and grime. I was over being fucking filthy. I just wanted to let the hot water run down my sore muscles for a few minutes. The daily manual labor taking me a minute to get used to. I tried not to think of Mia as I walked down the hallway toward my room, instantly noticing the adjacent door that I kept closed all the time was slightly ajar.

  And then it suddenly hit me, running into a brick wall of her smell. Her scent. Wrapped all around me. Suffocating and engulfing me exactly the way it used to.

  Damn, she still smelled so fucking good.

  The closer I got to the room, the stronger her scent lingered until there were no more steps for me to take. Bringing me face to face with Mia. She didn’t see me, too consumed and lost in her own mind as she sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. The magazines I had brought from the safe house placed on her lap, but that wasn’t what had my undivided attention.

  It was the photo she held tightly in her grasp. A picture no one had ever seen, not even me after that night.

  One that could make or break her.

  The next few seconds played out in slow motion as I watched her lift the photo to her pouty lips and whisper, “I’m so sorry, Maddie. I love and miss you so much.”

  Her expression filled with pain and emotion as tears streamed down her beautiful face, void of anything but remorse spewing out of her. Her voice laced with nothing but hurt and sorrow.

  Hitting me all at once where it hurt me the most.

  My heart.

  One right after the other. The truth wasn’t over yet. At least not...

  Ours.

  “Pippin,” I called out, bringing her tear-stained face up to look at me.

  My eyes widened and my mouth parted, sucking in air. Peering deep into her big blue eyes that always did it to me. Showing me everything I needed to hear. To know. I knew exactly who was staring back at me.

  My lips were moving, questioning in a tone I didn’t recognize, “How long, Mia?” It felt like my question echoed off the walls and straight into our fucking hearts.

  She bit her lip, fully aware of what I was asking. Of what I meant. Of what I wanted to know, desperately needing to hear it fall from her mouth since the moment she woke up in that hospital bed.

  Broken and lost.

  I had waited.

  For her.

  My girl.

  I didn’t hesitate, asking again. Making myself more clear so there wouldn’t be any more bullshit between us.

  I spewed, “How long have you had your memory back?”

  I unlocked the door, stepping inside our house before I even knew what I was doing. Not giving myself the chance to change my mind. I debated on actually going through with this for the past two months. Not sure if I could handle all the emotions and feelings I knew would come from stepping o
ver the invisible line of our relationship. Continuing to battle my heart over my mind.

  I didn’t see his bike outside, so I knew he was at his shop. It was the talk of the town, even making the local papers. Stating, Military veteran and reformed biker outlaw was now a law-abiding citizen. Building one of a kind motorcycles from scratch. Bringing people in from all over just to see his next creation at his new shop downtown named, Pippin’s. I couldn’t have been more proud of him. Always knowing he was capable of so damn much. Never giving himself enough credit for anything in life.

  I walked through our house for the first time, taking it all in. From the furniture we picked out together, to all the photos on the walls. I had no idea he had purchased any of this, yet. He never told me, never let me know what he had planned. It was all dreams, fantasizing about the day we could finally be together. I couldn’t believe my eyes, seeing the life we talked about and planned for behind all these walls.

  Our future.

  I knew the layout of the house because he showed me the blueprints, wanting me to be just as excited as he was about the home he purchased for us.

  For our family.

  Including a baby girl who wasn’t his.

  My feet gravitated toward the room closest to ours as if I was being pulled by a string. Reeling me into the unknown. I didn't fight it. I went willingly, not sure what to expect, but needing to find out nonetheless. Nothing would stop my feet from moving toward the room we had designed the most out of the entire house. Spending hours upon hours looking through magazines and catalogs, wanting to make it absolutely perfect for her.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed out, stopping dead in my tracks when I was standing in front of the room that was supposed to be Maddie’s nursery.

  Exactly the way we wanted to decorate it, from the color of the walls to the crib, the accents, and changing table, even the scattered stuffed animals strategically placed around the room. There wasn’t one thing that we didn’t pick out together that wasn’t already in the nursery.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I couldn’t move.

  I could barely even stand.

  My eyes pooled with tears, taking in the memories flooding my mind. Each one unfolding in front of me, playing out one by one as I made my way around the room. My fingers lightly skimming across everything, needing to make sure it was real and not a figment of my imagination.

  My healing mind playing tricks on me.

  “Pippin, baby girl’s room cannot just be pink,” Creed spoke, turning the page as we laid against the headboard on his bed.

  I turned the page back and circled the light pink rocking chair that he blew over. “Why? Pink is the best color in the world, and it’s not even the same pink, it’s a totally different shade.”

  “I like this one.” He pointed to the white rocker next to mine, taking the marker out of my hand and circling it.

  “White is so boring!”

  “How ‘bout we buy the white chair and you can pick out one of those fluffy, pointless, fuckin’ pillows you seem to love to put on it.”

  I bit my lip, smirking. “Fine.”

  He smiled and crossed out the pink chair with a big black X.

  My fingers gently glided along the soft bedding in the crib.

  “I like all this princess shit,” Creed stated, circling the pink and white bedding with tiaras and castles. “You’re my fuckin’ queen, and she’ll be my princess.”

  I kissed him, straddling his lap, beaming. “I love you, too.”

  I opened one of the drawers, seeing all the magazines and catalogs he had brought me throughout the weeks of my pregnancy. I reached in grabbing them, revealing something I never in a million years thought he had kept.

  Fresh tears filled my eyes as I took in the two stacks of envelopes, rubber banded together. The first stack I instantly recognized, they were the letters I had written him during his years in the Army. The ones that all went unanswered. I always thought he had thrown them away, but that didn't stop me from sending one every chance I got, wanting him to know someone back home was thinking about him. Praying for him.

  But mostly just waiting for him to come home.

  Each one was opened, crinkled, and torn like he had read them a thousand times. Memorizing all my words that I had written only for him.

  It was the second set of envelopes which really caught my attention. They were all sealed with stamps, addressed to Miss Mia Ryder, AKA Pippin in his barely legible handwriting.

  I smiled through my tears that were falling full force at that point. So many emotions were rushing over me, overwhelming me in the best possible way. He wrote me a letter for every one I sent him, replying to all my questions, all my thoughts, all my love for him.

  I grabbed everything from the drawer, bringing it over to the rocking chair with me, taking a seat in the place that would have contained all our happy memories of the baby girl we lost. I imagined what it would have felt like to actually rock Maddie right here, in my arms as I stared at her adoringly.

  “I can’t wait to see you in that rocker, babe, holdin’ baby girl,” Creed rasped, getting down on his knees to kiss my belly.

  I turned a few more pages, laughing at some of the ridiculous things Creed had circled like the onesies that said, ‘I love my daddy and his tattoos,’ or ‘If I look funny it’s because my daddy dressed me’ and my personal favorite, ‘My daddy owns a gun, any questions?’ He always thought of Maddie as his own. No matter what.

  I flipped a few more pages when I suddenly stopped. My heart started pounding out of my chest, my ears began to ring, echoing all around the room when I saw there was a picture of Maddie and me placed in between the pages.

  I gasped, my shaking hand instantly went up to my mouth in shock of what was in front of my eyes. “Oh my God,” I whispered to myself.

  My eyes immediately filled with more tears. There was no controlling them from pouring out of me like a stream running down a mountain side. Cascading along my cheeks to the magazines below. Shedding every last tear I had pent up since the day I woke up in that hospital bed.

  I never got see what she looked like.

  I never got to hold her.

  I never got to feel her skin against mine.

  But I did...

  She was laying on my chest with her tiny little face turned toward the camera. And what looked like Creed’s tattooed hand holding her securely in place. Both our eyes were closed as if we were just sleeping. Peaceful as one. She looked exactly how Noah described her for me. My finger unconsciously started to trace her little button nose and tiny fingers that were lying on my chest next to her face.

  She was so precious, so delicate, so beautiful. My heart ached from how full of love it was for this baby girl. Meeting her for the first time through this picture. Wanting to touch her, feel her, love her unconditionally, but I couldn’t because she was gone. All I had left were the memories of being pregnant, feeling her inside of me, and now... this photo.

  Portraying a mother and daughter content in each other's arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Maddie. I love and miss you so much,” I wept, mourning the loss of my baby girl and all that could have been. Staring at my precious daughter, smiling through my despair.

  And then, out of nowhere, I suddenly felt him in the room like I had at prom.

  “Pippin?”

  With every last emotion, feeling, sentiment, memory pouring out of me, I peered up and looked him in the eyes. Knowing he already knew the truth because he had always felt me, too.

  Our connection was alive and thriving all around us as if my memory was never gone to begin with. Right along with our love and the all the years of turmoil and passion, of lost times and heartache.

  Of all the roads that led us to nowhere which finally would end here.

  He visibly took a deep breath, murmuring, “How long Mia?” Gazing deep into my eyes, looking at his girl.

  The one he never gave up hope would come back to him.
/>   Me.

  A war was raging in his eyes, but for the first time since I woke up, it wasn’t for me because he knew I was already there.

  With him.

  His internal battle took place right in front of me like he wanted to hold me in his arms and never let me go. Except things were different now.

  I was different.

  And so was he.

  We weren’t the same people we had been before, and I think that was what scared him more than anything. Maybe realizing that just because I was his.

  Didn’t mean I still might not also be Noah’s.

  The serious expression on his face captivated me in the same way it always had. Which only added to the plaguing emotions that were placed in between us.

  “How long have you had your memory back?” he elaborated, yearning to know how long it had been since I remembered him and our love.

  “Two months, give or take.”

  He jerked back like I had hit him, and in a way, I probably had.

  “It didn’t come back all at once,” I added, hoping it would calm him.

  “How?”

  I shook my head, not wanting him to know. It would hurt him too much.

  “How?” he repeated in a stern tone I was more than familiar with. Fighting a battle I knew I wouldn’t win.

  “Creed, please... it doesn’t—”

  “Ain’t gonna ask you again, Mia.”

  “Noah carried me onto his bike,” I simply stated, not wanting to go into more detail.

  He grimaced, didn’t even try to hide it. Proving my intuition right. I knew him just as much as he knew me. That was just the way we were and always had been.

  “It was the first time I had been on it, I could never do it. Why do you think that is?”