Blood & Bones: Trip (Blood Fury MC Book 1)

by Jeanne St. James

Did she lose custody of her child, or even children?

  The possibility of her already being a mother never even crossed his mind.

  “Where is he?” He pressed his hand to her lower belly. “Or she?”

  His questions, those unavoidable questions, made ice slither through her veins and her heart seize. Against her will, he was taking her back to a place and time she didn’t want to go.

  She knew the conversation would need to be had, especially since they’d had sex and she was sure Trip planned on them having more.

  Or, actually, Trip planned on them doing much more than having sex. But right now, she was only on board with the sex part. And even that was questionable.

  The rest...?

  She had not only returned to Manning Grove but had avoided dating and anything that would cause questions or looks. Or even whispers. Because right after it happened, she swore everyone was staring at her, pointing and whispering. Either with an accusatory look or one of sympathy.

  She hadn’t welcomed either.

  In one month, she had lost too much. But that saying, “when one door closes, another one opens,” was true... in a way. Though, she hadn’t been expecting that first door to slam shut, catching her fingers in the jamb and causing excruciating pain. The cause of the other door opening wasn’t a happy occasion, either. But it was a door she escaped through. To a place she could lick her wounds and hope to recover. Eventually.

  But coming back to Manning Grove and taking over her late father’s bar gave her something to concentrate on, instead of sitting in a room with the lights off and the curtains closed, wondering if she could continue.

  While she was lost in thought, Trip had moved back to her side, pulling the sheet up over them, and remained surprisingly quiet.

  If she was going to be partners with him in business, he needed to know why some days for her might be worse than others. Why some days she might be barely functioning. Those had been occurring less with time, but there was no guarantee they would completely go away.

  She needed to forget the bad and remember the good, the only problem was the bad memories kept slamming her in the chest like a sledgehammer.

  He also needed to understand why she wasn’t looking for a man, and even if she was, why it wouldn’t be someone like him.

  She closed her stinging eyes and took a moment to gather her thoughts, swallowing around the tightness in her throat. Somehow, she got the words out. Words she hadn’t said out loud in over a year. “I had a son.”

  She wished those four words were enough to satisfy him, but she knew better. It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his curiosity. It wouldn’t be enough for him to understand.

  His hand was still pressed to her lower belly, even though the sheet now covered them both. But that was the only place he touched her. “Had.”

  That single word held so much. Sadness. Confusion. Even a touch of anger. Like he was waiting to hear the rest before he decided how he should feel about what she revealed.

  “He died.” By saying it, she couldn’t ignore the truth.

  “Stella,” he whispered, the tone of his voice changing to tortured. Like what she said actually hurt him.

  He’d never feel the pain more than she did. Not even a fraction of it.

  She covered her eyes with her hand, fighting back the tears that threatened. And she let the dark emptiness engulf her as she just let the words roll from her. “You carry your child inside you. Shelter him for nine months. And when he’s born, even though it’s painful and unpleasant, all that disappears the second you hear him cry and announce loudly he’s ready to meet the world. You created that little person. It’s the best day of your life. Nothing can ever beat it. Nothing. You brought a piece of yourself into your own world, as well as others. And then you protect him as he learns to roll over, to crawl, to walk. And then...”

  The fingers along her lower belly twitched. “And then?”

  Her chest felt like it was caving in, crushing her. “It’s gone in a flash. In less time it took for him to come into the world, he’s taken from you. Gone. That light that shone so brightly the first time I held him was gone. Extinguished. Darkened. I’d never hold him, kiss him, hear him say “Mommy” again. Just... gone. Nothing left to hold onto but memories. A hole in your heart so big it seems impossible to fill, so you don’t even try. You try to go on. One day. The next. Then the next. You exist. Nothing else. You even wonder if you want to continue. I brought a piece of me into the world and he was stolen from me. Never to be returned.”

  Something tore deep inside of her as she relived that day and that phone call all over again. The call that caused her to throw her phone, to smash it against the wall. She wanted to believe if she wasn’t holding it, if she couldn’t hear it, it didn’t happen. And if she couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, they couldn’t give her the details.

  She had collapsed to the floor and curled up in a ball, covering her ears with her hands, not wanting to hear anything.

  Because they had to be wrong. It had to be a mistake.

  He’d walk in the door at any moment, yelling about how he was hungry and asking if he could have a snack.

  But it wasn’t him that walked in, it was her mother, who sat on the floor with her, telling her to breathe. Confirming her nightmare was real.

  The person on the other end of the phone hadn’t been lying. It wasn’t a bad prank.

  It was true.

  It was true and there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

  Not one fucking thing.

  “Jesus Christ, baby,” Trip murmured against the side of her head, where he had his nose buried. “Can’t even fuckin’ imagine.”

  She waited for him to ask how it happened. But he didn’t, he only held her tight. But she needed to finish because eventually he’d want to know, and she never wanted to talk about it again.

  If he wanted to hear about Kade’s first eight years of life, if he wanted to see photos, his drawings, his handmade cards, and the rest of the things she had saved, that was one thing. But she never wanted to talk about that last day ever again.

  That meant it was now or never.

  “My son was the best thing that came from my marriage. We got married young. I had just turned twenty. Some say that you end up with men like your father. Well, that was my first mistake.”

  While he wasn’t a member of an MC, he had a similar attitude. She and some of her girlfriends used fake ID’s to get into a bar. It was something they did all the time, but one night they got into a bar for free using their ID’s and flashing their tits to the bouncer.

  They laughed about it and had a blast since men were buying them drinks plus the rock band on stage was awesome.

  They spent the night dancing and having a great time, and when the band ended its last set, the drummer squeezed between her and her best friend, offering to buy them a drink. But it was only Stella he had eyes for.

  And those eyes. They were what drew her. A richer blue than hers, a gorgeous contrast to his dark hair that was so long it skimmed his shoulders. But it was the way he smiled at her that had sucked her in.

  It was genuine.

  That night they hooked up. And then every other night for weeks when he wasn’t out of town for gigs.

  Eventually, he begged her to join him when his band traveled. At twenty, sex and love seemed more important than a steady job. So, she agreed and gave up her job, moved into his apartment with him and whenever he was on the road, she went along.

  Everything was fun until reality began to set in. She ignored his excessive drinking and drug use since she figured that was normal for guys who played rock and roll. While she drank and smoked, plus partook in a little pot herself, as the months went along, he began to do it more excessively. Even after voicing her concerns, he blew her off by saying he was fine and had everything under control.

  Then at twenty-one, she found out she was pregnant. She stopped smoking and drinking and begged Kellan to s
top, too.

  He promised he would. And he did for a while, then he’d fall into old habits when he’d go back on the road, leaving her and Kade at home.

  When it got bad, she’d threaten to leave, and he’d clean up his act once again.

  For a while.

  It never stuck.

  Eventually, she changed the locks and filed for divorce, not wanting Kade to be raised around a bad influence. She didn’t want her son believing that being falling down drunk and so stoned you barely functioned was normal.

  When he was served with divorce papers, he swore he’d clean up his act and go to rehab. He wanted back in the house and in his family’s life. She told him she was not accepting him back until he was clean and sober for at least six months.

  Even so, he somehow convinced the judge to allow him unsupervised visits while they were separated. Probably showed him his chip for being thirty days sober. The same one he showed her when he promised he was sober and on the path to coming back home.

  But he lied.

  He. Fucking. Lied.

  Like so many addicts do.

  He lied to get what he wanted. Which was time with his son.

  Kade loved his father, loved spending time with him. But it still worried her every time she had no choice but to let him go. She knew Kellan loved their son and would never purposely hurt him. She had to hang on to that fact when Kellan would pick him up for the two days a week he had fought for.

  But she worried. And her gut instinct was right.

  Kade had texted her pictures of him and his father in a jon boat on the Susquehanna River, one he’d borrowed from another band member. Her son had the biggest smile on his face when she received the picture of him holding his “monster” catch of a tiny catfish. The first fish he ever caught besides a sunfish.

  It turned out to be his last.

  What wasn’t caught in any of those pictures was the twelve pack Kellan had taken along.

  What wasn’t caught in those pictures was the fact that Kellan had no experience in taking a boat out on his own, a fact he forgot to mention and was important since the Susquehanna River was so dangerous.

  What wasn’t caught in those pictures was the fact that the river was very high and rushing more than normal. Or how close they were to the Dock Street Dam near Harrisburg. Or that even though Kellan had thrown the anchor, he hadn’t realized the boat was drifting down river.

  Until it was too late.

  That dam had claimed too many lives.

  Including her son’s.

  And his father’s.

  She didn’t need the toxicology report to know why.

  No, she knew. Even though she was told there were several circumstances for the accident besides him being drunk.

  But she didn’t care about the rest of the reasons.

  It didn’t matter.

  All she knew was, she never should have let Kade go.

  In the end, it was her fault for allowing it.

  Even her mother agreed.

  “I never should have let him go. Never. It’s just as much my fault. I should’ve known he’d been lying to me. Lying to everyone. That he hadn’t stopped drinking. He only learned to hide it better.”

  “This won’t begin to cover it, but gotta say it. First, your mother can fuck off. None of us are perfect, especially her, because I remember her. Even so, we all fuck up, Stella. Do shit we regret. Shit we wish we could take back or have a chance to do all over again. However, you can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

  He could say it but that didn’t make it true.

  “Didn’t the fucker have a vest on your kid?”

  She closed her eyes and those photos she’d been texted flashed through her mind once again. How happy he was.

  “He was wearing one in the pictures. The investigator said it might have been too loose and the strong churn of the water at the dam... ripped it off him, trapping him under water. It wasn’t until the next day they recovered him down river.” She swallowed hard to stop the bile from coming back up. “I had to identify his body, as well as Kellan’s.” She hadn’t been able to stop the bile from rising that day, either.

  His death was devastating enough, but identifying her own son was even worse.

  She had collapsed that day, too, and even though she hadn’t eaten a thing, her body tried to expel what didn’t exist.

  She ended up in bed, barely existing on only air and tears for a week.

  She ignored the knocks on the door and the phone calls.

  She’d even missed the call from Max Bryson, the Chief of Police for Manning Grove, regretfully informing her that Pete had finally succumbed to his cancer.

  Which was why her father had been buried without her. Which was why he’d been buried without his cut.

  He also died without knowing his grandson would be waiting for him on the other side.

  “Jesus fuck,” Trip muttered as she trailed off.

  She hadn’t even been aware she was speaking her thoughts out loud.

  He pulled her against him so tightly she had no choice but to burrow into him. She didn’t fight it, she welcomed his heat which engulfed her, the circle of his arms and the weight of his heavy thigh over hers. It all created a comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  That dark hole she’d stared into over the last year, suddenly didn’t feel so bottomless and insurmountable.

  She hadn’t talked about this with anyone since leaving the Harrisburg area. She’d kept it buried deep inside.

  But now she had lifted the lid and released it.

  While not quite a relief, it was something.

  And like Trip said, something was better than nothing.

  Maybe he was fucking right.

  Chapter Twelve

  He slid a small mountain of scrambled eggs onto the plate next to the toasted buttered bagel and crispy bacon he placed there moments before.

  She sat on the stool at the tiny counter, staring at it all. “I can’t eat all that. I’m fine with coffee.”

  Trip finished scraping the remainder of the eggs from the pan onto his own plate. “Bullshit. You need to eat.”

  “I’ll eat later.”

  He dumped the pan into the sink with a clatter and came around the counter to take the other stool. “It’s non-negotiable.”

  She put her mug of coffee down with a clunk. “You can’t force me to eat, Trip.”

  He cocked one brow at her before shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “The fuck I can’t.”

  She fingered the fork which laid next to her full plate, avoiding his gaze.

  “Need you to keep your strength up. Got a lot of work to do to turn the bar around.”

  “Money is required to turn it around, Trip. In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t have it. I have a feeling you don’t have it, either.”

  He didn’t fucking forget. He bit off a piece of sesame seed bagel and chewed it. “Got my first repo job today. That’ll start bringin’ in some scratch.”

  “Rob Peter to pay Paul,” she muttered as she picked up her fork and stabbed at the eggs but didn’t put any in her mouth. “How’d you get the license since you did time?”

  That reminded him that he never got to tell her what he wanted to tell her. Another time. Soon, though.

  “Eat a bite and I’ll tell you.”

  She shot him a look but lifted her fork to her mouth.

  He waited until she swallowed the bite of eggs, then answered, “Deacon.”

  Her brows raised. “You put the business license in Deacon’s name?”

  “No choice. Coulda put it in yours if you hadn’t been fightin’.”

  “Fighting what?”

  “What’s inevitable.”

  She put her fork down.

  Fuck.

  She ran the pad of her index finger along the rim of her coffee mug but said nothing. Which disturbed him more than if she argued.

  “Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Trip,” she whispered, lif
ting the mug to her lips. When she was done taking a couple sips, she put it down and placed a hand to her lower belly which was once again covered in leggings.

  Leggings which he did not approve of since he preferred her in just his T-shirt. However, he had to wear his shirt since as soon as they were done with breakfast and he made sure she ate something, he needed to jet.

  Not that he wanted to, he just needed to get his ass in gear to make sure the bar’s debt didn’t swallow him whole, too.

  “Wanna explain that?” he said around a whole piece of bacon he’d accordioned into his mouth.

  He stopped chewing when she said, “That’s not the only scar I have.”

  He jerked when she unexpectedly grabbed his hand. It took everything he had not to yank it free when she raised it to the back of her head. Singling out his index finger, she ran it along a ridge hidden in her hair.

  Jesus fuck.

  “I was a stupid fuckin’ kid, Stella.” Was he never going to live that shit down?

  “I know you didn’t mean to split my head open, Trip. But you did because you lost your temper. Makes me wonder about that temper. And if it was the reason you ended up in prison.”

  Again, a reminder they needed to have that discussion.

  When she released his finger, he kept his hand there, cupping the back of her head, and turning her to face him. “Promise you. I’ll never fuckin’ hurt you like that again.”

  “You sure? There are more ways to hurt someone than just physically.”

  “How ‘bout I tell Judge he can kick my fuckin’ ass if I ever hurt you again. All you gotta do is let him know I caused you pain in one way or another and I won’t fight that fuckin’ beat down.”

  Her eyes got big for a second, then they narrowed on him. “Judge could kill you. Especially if you didn’t fight back.”

  “No fuckin’ shit.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Just don’t go runnin’ to him because you got bent that I left the toilet seat up or some stupid shit like that.”

  Was that a grin?

  Yeah, it was, and she covered it by taking another bite of eggs. Thank fuck.

  He combed his fingers through her long black silky hair that fell loose around her shoulders. She’d had dark hair when she was a kid, but it wasn’t black like it was now. Which meant the color was as fake as the blue stripes.