OLIN (A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga Book 3)

by Debra Kayn

  Aware that her milk had dried up and she'd failed to provide for her son had been her breaking point. It was the one thing she could do for him while incarcerated, and she hadn't been unable to fulfill that one basic need.

  Lindsay's gaze softened. "He babbles and coos now. If I give him a new toy to chew on or pick him up, he makes all these noises like he's trying to tell me something. Right now, he's drooling. His shirt is always wet, and he grabs everything to put in his mouth. Karla thinks he's cutting his first tooth."

  The thrum of Ashley's heart beating through her hollow chest could be heard over her sister's voice. "A tooth?"

  She wasn't even aware of when babies get teeth. Weren't mother's supposed to know?

  Lindsay's shoulders bowed. "Oh, sis. You can see all of Trik's changes if you put him and Olin on the visitor register. Maybe they'll even let you hold him."

  She looked through the glass at her sister. "I'm in a different pod. Um, Pod A. They don't let me go to open visitations anymore. Visitors have to come here."

  "That's okay. Olin can bring him here. You can see him through the glass."

  She was a stranger to her son. There were no benefits of Trik seeing her as if window shopping for a new mother. If she had him come, it would be pure selfishness on her part. After he left, she wasn't confident that she could handle his leaving again.

  She had to stay in one of the general population pods if she planned to walk out of prison on her release date. One more breakdown and they'd put her in Ad Seg and could add time onto her sentence.

  "Hug him for me." She inhaled swiftly. "Tell him his momma loves him."

  "Ashley." Tears flowed down Lindsay's cheeks. "I tell him every single day how much you love him and miss him."

  She shook her head, the visit would end soon, and she wanted the focus on her son and Olin, not on her.

  She moistened her lips. "Does Olin—"

  "Olin's a wonderful father," said Lindsay.

  "There was never any doubt that he would be the best dad." Ashley's legs shook out of view of her sister. "There's a, uh, letter I've written. For Trik. Can I mail it to you? Will you read it to him?"

  Lindsay nodded. Ashley trembled. Lately, the weakness in her chest encompassed her whole body. She ached constantly. The simplest tasks of straightening her bunk and keeping the toilet clean exhausted her.

  The anger directed at her from the other inmates attacked her mental health. The competition for everything from toothpaste to candy bars through commissary never went away. Someone was always plotting, planning, and fighting.

  As Lindsay made small talk, Ashley found herself growing stronger about her decision to send Trik away. She'd done the right thing. The prison was no place to raise a child. No matter how temporary or how young Trik was.

  "There are people who want to visit you." Lindsay paused. "Olin, Mom, Johanna...for sure."

  "I'll fill out the form for Mom to visit." She couldn't see Johanna. Her best friend grew up with Olin, and she was married to Chief. Johanna had everything she wanted with a home in Brikken, a family, children. She'd never be able to hold out and keep her sanity until her sentence was served if she put herself through the stress of putting on a face.

  It was hard enough seeing her sister. Her natural urge to cry, bitch, beg for the impossible hovered under the surface, only dulled by the medication she took each morning.

  Olin visiting her couldn't happen—he hated her for what she'd done, giving him Trik, and that was something she couldn't face at the moment because he had every right to never want to see her again. She knew him well enough to know the only reason he'd want to see her is to make sure she felt every harsh word he had felt over the last six months believing that she'd given away their child and given up on him.

  While she deserved his anger, she promised herself that her focus while she served her time would be on her son. She needed to be strong and healthy upon her release if she had any hope of re-entering his life.

  "You're still able to afford the house and the utilities?" she asked.

  "I received my annual raise at the beginning of the year, so that's come in handy." Lindsay shrugged. "I also received four extra days of vacation added on to my two weeks I've been getting."

  "That's good." She looked at the walls of the divider, disconnected from life outside. "How's Dad?"

  Lindsay wrinkled her nose. "He's called once to get the scoop on everyone, and then went back to his other family."

  Her father's yoyo-parenting would never change. The only time he'd been there for her was when she was eighteen years old and provided some extra money so she could afford to live in the apartment with Johanna and Lindsay. He'd basically bought his own freedom. With her on her own, he was free to sleep with whoever he wanted and stay away from his daughters.

  His infrequent visits were a bitter reminder of how insincere he was the rest of the time. She would not be that kind of parent for her son.

  "And, Mom?" she asked.

  "She's...Mom." Lindsay leaned closer. "I see her more. She comes up and spends every other weekend at the house."

  "Does she see...?" Why was it so hard to say Trik's name out loud?

  "Yeah. Olin's really good about us taking him for a few hours." Lindsay smiled. "Trik can sit up in the stroller now, and Olin pushes him up and down the street every night. It helps him put the baby down to go to sleep. I'm trying to teach him to wave, but so far he only babbles when he sees me in the yard as they go by."

  Ashley's eyes burned with unshed tears. She could imagine her big, bad biker pushing their child, daring anyone to say a word about how silly he looked.

  She lowered her chin to her chest and holding the phone to her ear, she whispered, "Thank you."

  "For what?" asked Lindsay.

  "For being a part of his life."

  "Of course, I'll always be here for him."

  "I'm sorry. I have to go." She stood and hung up the phone.

  Turning her back to her sister, she called for the guard.

  A full breath refused to come. She hurried out of the small room. The metal door clicked behind her, sucking all the air out of the hallway. She put her hands at her sides and struggled to relax her muscles as the guard handcuffed her wrists together.

  "We'll be taking you down to holding until the contraband search is done in Pod A." The guard walked beside her.

  Alone in holding, she stared at her bound arms. She hated searches. If it weren't the guards ruining her belongings, other inmates would steal what they wanted from her meager possessions.

  The only thing she cared about was the envelope of pictures of the baby shower that happened in her absence. As long as she could see the photos, she could visualize where Trik slept, what he played with, and even what he would look like in the clothes that were gifted to him.

  It was her one outlet to stay connected to Olin and Trik's life together. She wasn't strong enough for more. If she called Olin on the phone to hear his voice, she'd also hear Trik babbling or crying in the background. Unable to do anything to comfort both of them, she'd only suffer more.

  For her, too much knowledge was a lot like candy. She was healthier if she consumed none. One little nibble and she was soon eating a candy bar a day until she started carrying one around in her purse for whenever she needed a lift in energy.

  Olin was better off without her. She made his life complicated. He had his job at the garage on Brikken property, his responsibilities to the club as the vice president, and he was a full-time father. In between his busy schedule, he went on a week-long run every six weeks.

  She was another liability for him.

  Giving Trik the foundation for a good life was more important to her than him seeing her as an outsider in his life. She wanted him far away from where people have killed for a roll of toilet paper.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chief stood in the middle of the clubhouse. "Come on, Trik. Let's see what you've learned."

  Olin walked c
loser, stopping eight feet from his father and set Trik on his feet. Holding on to his son's hands, he waited until Trik got his balance. "Show Chief your stuff, son."

  Trik walked, a mix of running and standing on his toes, straight to Chief, who picked him up and nuzzled his neck, eliciting giggles from his boy. "Good job, little man."

  Olin chuckled. "I don't know what all the women were worried about with him not walking on his first birthday. He was just waiting until he could run."

  At fourteen months, Trik finally had his legs under him. Nothing slowed him down. He fought the one nap he still took and eating anything took forever because he insisted on holding the spoon himself.

  "Won't be long and he'll be straddling a motorcycle." Chief set Trik down and watched him run over to push the wooden chair across the floor.

  "Don't urge him to grow up too fast." Olin hooked his hands under his armpits. "Every stage he goes through makes me lose a couple months of sleep. Now that he's walking, you won't believe how fast he is. I take a piss, and he's hiding in the utility room. I try and put a load of wash in the dryer, and he's hiding under my bed."

  Chief grinned without commenting. Olin understood the moment he let his worries out that his father had gone through what he was, not once, but five times. Six, if he counted Johanna.

  Trik stopped pushing the chair and tried to climb onto the seat. Olin stepped over and picked up his son.

  Chief observed him. "Sixteen more months and Ashley will be released."

  "What about it?" He gave Trik his riding gloves from his vest pocket to play with to distract him from the conversation.

  While he doubted his son had the maturity to understand the conversation, he'd rather protect him from the painful parts of life.

  "She's going to want to be a part of his life when she gets out." Chief tilted his head. "How big of a part is she going to be in your life?"

  "She made all decisions about our future when she refused to let me see her, and she turned her back on our son." He ignored Trik slapping him on the face with the glove. "But, she is his mother. I'll deal with everything when it happens."

  "Lindsay and her mom have helped you a lot over the last year. What does Ashley's family think about her choices?"

  He gritted his teeth. It was a constant frustration knowing Ashley only permitted her family to visit her at the prison. She'd forgotten that before her arrest, he'd devoted his life to her. That he was her family.

  "The situation is exactly like you imagine." He stepped away from his father and said, "She's made her choices about me."

  "That's never worked before." Chief's gaze narrowed. "You love her."

  "She's my other half, but I have my son and when it comes to him and me...nothing is going to change. He's mine." He walked away before he lost his temper.

  Over the last year, he'd learn to curb his frustrations, and there were few people brave enough to encroach the barrier he'd erected regarding Ashley. Others tended to take the hint that anything to do with her was off-topic.

  Until now, even Chief had kept his opinion to himself.

  He pushed out the door, glanced at his motorcycle parked in the line of bikes, and headed toward the truck he'd bought from Chief. Because of Trik, he kept his Harley here. The only chance he got to ride was during the daytime hours when Trik was in daycare and during the club's week-long run when Lindsay, Johanna, or his mom watched his son.

  "Olin, wait," yelled Stassi.

  He paused in the open door. "What do you need?"

  Stassi slammed into the truck, stopping her sprint. "I wanted to kiss Trik goodbye."

  Olin held his son down and let Stassi hug and kiss him loudly on his son's cheek. Trik held his arms out and opened and closed his hands.

  "Look. He wants to stay with me." Stassi held his hands. "Can he?"

  "Not tonight." He straightened and put Trik in his car seat in the back of the crew cab.

  "Then, can I go to your house?" Stassi followed him around the front of the truck.

  "Nope." He slid into the cab of the pickup and rolled down the window.

  Stassi stepped up on the running board and held on to the door. "Please?"

  "Why are you so desperate to come home with me?"

  Her rosy lips pursed. "I heard that Trik will be staying with Karla next week when you go on a ride, and I won't see him until the following week."

  "That's nothing new."

  "But, Olin." Stassi lowered her voice. "He doesn't have a mom, and I'm his aunt. I should teach him things."

  He dropped his hands to his lap and looked out the windshield. "Everyone has a mom. Who told you that?"

  "Nobody."

  "Where did you hear he doesn't have a mom?"

  Stassi jumped down to the ground. "I heard Deana talking."

  "You were eavesdropping?"

  "I wasn't trying to hear what she was saying. The women in the room didn't see me." Stassi frowned. "Is it true that Aunt Ashley is gone? She's never coming back?"

  He exhaled. This was a conversation better left to Chief and Johanna to have with his sister. But, she'd been raised in Brikken. Jett had gone to prison when Stassi was little. She was old enough to know when someone was away at the penitentiary and then they returned.

  "Your Aunt Ashley is serving time in prison. She'll be released in a year and a half or so." He looked at his little sister. "This is something we keep in the family, squirt. If you have questions, you go to Chief, your mom, Jett, Thorn, or come to me."

  "What did she do?" she whispered.

  "She was working for some people who weren't following the laws, and before she could quit her job, she was arrested."

  Trik whined from his car seat. He started the truck to settle his boy down.

  Stassi climbed back up on the truck's running board and said, "I feel sad for Trik. He's just a baby."

  "Trik will be fine. He's too young to understand, and he has me, you, and everyone else." He kissed his sister's forehead. "Now, get your butt down and step back. I need to get him home and fix dinner. You can spend the day with him when the run is over."

  He lifted his hand as his sister waved them away. Riding out of the gate, he looked in the rearview mirror to check on Trik and found his boy's eyes slowly blinking. The fresh air coming through the window, the rumble of the truck, and he'd probably be asleep before they hit the first curve on the way home.

  Resting his wrist on the top of the steering wheel, he wondered why today of all days, people would question him about Ashley. Usually, they stayed clear of his problems.

  Everyone wanted to know what he planned to do when Ashley walked out of prison, and he refused to answer. Not that he knew what would happen. He didn't have a fucking clue.

  He leaned his head toward the open window and let the wind blow his hair off his face. If he knew the answer maybe it'd help him sleep at night.

  Every second of the day, he missed Ashley. He had his son, but the hole that was left in his life was filled with loneliness and anger.

  There were times he leaned toward believing what she had done by letting Trik leave the prison was the best thing for their son. Trik thrived at home with him. He had a whole club at the ready to watch, feed, play with, and protect his son.

  But, he needed Ashley more than Trik needed his mom.

  She belonged to him long before they had a child. The only woman who stuck by him when he almost lost his life, the woman who loved him to an obsessive level and wouldn't let him get away with the bullshit he tried to pull. For over twenty years, she'd occupied his mornings, his afternoons, his nights.

  For her to suddenly pull that all away from him without a fight left him floundering. It's not how they worked. They fought. They made up. But, never had she stolen his heart and stomped it to pieces.

  He glanced over at Trik. His son had fallen asleep.

  In his innocence, Trik wasn't aware of Olin's troubles. He went out of his way to keep things calm, loving and enriching in his son's prese
nce.

  If he'd learned anything, kids could get pissed, upset, and hurt. And, in the next minute, forgave you like nothing ever happened because their need for love, for security, for attention was never-ending.

  As an adult. People's choices were less forgiving.

  Love could be ruined.

  He pulled up to the house and shut off the truck. Instead of getting out, he sat quietly, letting his son gain his second wind before dinner.

  Looking at his yard, filled with weeds, hardly any grass grew, he knew he'd let his personal life go to shit. On the inside of the house, he had cabinets locked, electrical plugins closed off, and doorknobs baby-protected. He vacuumed a few times a week, and he kept the floor in the kitchen mopped.

  For the last two years, the outside of the house depicted the turmoil of his relationship and appeared rundown and neglected without Ashley around to pick the dandelions out of his lawn, reminding him to mow the grass.

  He looked at the empty house between his home and Lindsay's. No one ever bought the place after the bank foreclosed on the previous owners—Jesus, five or six years ago. The bank took it off the market when no one wanted to buy it, and let the place sit in their loss margin.

  Ashley used to tell him if she won the lottery, she'd buy the place and fix it up, blaming the weed problem on the street to that particular neglected house.

  He studied the vacant house and picked up his phone and called his brother.

  Jett answered on the second ring. "Yeah?"

  "Have Freddy do some digging on the abandoned house beside mine," he said.

  "Okay." Jett paused. "What for?"

  "I want to buy it." He opened the truck door and slid out, walking around to the other side to get Trik.

  Jett chuckled. "Right...why would you want to do that? It's deteriorated beyond repair. It'd cost you a fortune to fix it up."

  He looked down at the dandelions bending in the wind, trying desperately to hold on to the wishes clinging to the head of the weed. "I'm going to bulldoze the motherfucker down."

  Olin disconnected the call, put his phone in his pocket, and removed Trik from his car seat. Holding his son, he walked toward the house. The weight on his shoulders a little lighter.