For instance, if you were to ask Castiel, another club brother, what his ex-wife—who had divorced him because he was married to his job—would do if he’d been shot, it was not go to the hospital and wait for hours and hours. It was not, after getting shot in the hand after waiting those hours and hours, sit in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside your ex-husband’s bedside.
What Castiel’s ex-wife would have done was to receive the phone call, hang up the phone, and then celebrate that she was finally rid of him.
That was not Landry.
Landry cared, but I could tell that my job scared the crap out of her.
Yet, even despite her worry over my occupation, she fully supported me.
I shifted, my leg starting to throb, and Landry’s eyes once again came to me.
“Can I ask you a hypothetical question without you getting upset?” She tilted her head warily in my direction.
I knew what she was going to ask. She wanted to know what I’d do without my leg.
“I guess,” I acquiesced.
“If you have to have your leg amputated, will you still be able to ride a motorcycle?” she questioned.
I felt my stomach somersault.
“The infection is down by my knee for some reason. It’s my hope that I don’t have to have it amputated, but they said that if it was needed, then it would be an above-the-knee amputation. It will depend on where, exactly, they perform the amputation that would answer that question better. I would think that as long as I still have a stump to attach a prosthesis to, then it should be okay.” I paused, thinking about something else. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to run.”
She looked at me with sadness filling her features.
Running had always been my escape.
I was a big man, tall at six-foot-four-inches, and I had long legs that allowed me to eat up the ground. When I needed a break from reality, I slid on a pair of running shoes and let the burn of my muscles take me away for a while.
But, if my leg was gone, would that even be possible anymore?
“There are amputee runners all over the world,” she disagreed with me. “There’s a cop on the Kilgore SWAT team that just ran a marathon. It was a big deal. The Old Dogs New Tricks Rescue sponsored him.”
I felt fondness at hearing Landry had sponsored him.
When we’d first gotten together, Landry had fallen in love with an old dog at a shelter the day we’d gone there to find a puppy so Butters, my old Labrador, could have a playmate.
We’d left with a dog, of course, but not a young one. An older one that was well on his way to death.
But, Landry had wanted that dog, and we’d gotten him.
He’d passed away peacefully in his sleep about six months after we’d gotten him, and that had started her love for older rescue dogs. She’d started up a dog rescue, and now went around to shelters and found every older dog that was being passed over by prospective new dog owners. Dogs that were ugly and just wouldn’t be able to pull off the ‘cute’ card. Dogs that were handicapped. Dogs that were temperamental. She found them homes.
My plan to remind her of all the good we had firmly in my mind, I took the next exit and pulled up outside a convenience store.
“Let’s go grab something to eat that’ll tide us over until lunchtime,” I murmured.
She eyed me warily.
I knew what she was thinking.
I hated to stop, and I’d literally just offered to do so without her even asking me.
What was my game plan?
I could practically hear her wheels spinning, and I wanted to laugh.
Instead of giving her any indication that I was up to something, I pushed the car door open and got out, smiling when she stayed put until I could make my way around the car.
Old habits die hard, and Landry and I had it out quite a few times in the beginning of our relationship. After realizing that opening the door for her wasn’t going to cause any unwanted side effects on her end, she gave in and allowed me to open her car door for her like I wanted to, and I did it from that point on.
I was happy to see that she allowed me to do it today.
“Thanks,” I murmured as I opened first her car door, and then the door to the convenience store. “I was hoping you wouldn’t give me shit.”
She snorted. “I lost that battle a long time ago, Wade. And, if it makes you happy to open the car door for me, who am I to tell you that you can’t?”
I winked at her and went down the aisle that had the beef jerky, while she went to the one that had the candy.
I stepped wrong when I bent down to get my favorite brand and felt bile rise up my throat as my wound reminded me that it hated me for only the seventy-fifth time today.
“Wade?”
I dropped my eyes so she wouldn’t see the pain, and said, “Yeah?”
“You want me to get it?” she offered.
No. What I wanted was for my leg to be better. What I wanted was for her to be back in my bed. What I wanted was for my life to be what it was before she’d left.
What I got wasn’t that.
But I was working on it.
“Yeah,” I croaked. “Would you?”
She bent down and the tank she was wearing rode up, displaying a sliver of skin above her shorts.
My tattoo was on her upper hip, right where I’d left it.
It was a picture of a shield—my badge—and my numbers on it.
She’d gotten it the day before we’d married, and then had shown it to me the moment we’d arrived in Bora Bora for our honeymoon.
I’d fucked her…
I immediately shut that line of thought off before I could so much as think about how it felt to be inside of her while staring at my stamp on her right hip.
If I didn’t, I’d not only have a stiff, sore leg, but I’d also wind up with a stiff, throbbing cock.
“Thank you,” I murmured when she stood up, her shirt once again covering her tattoo.
She smiled at me. “I got what I want. I’m going to go to the bathroom just in case, and I’ll meet you at the door.”
I grinned.
She knew I wouldn’t leave her in here alone.
I’d never been able to do that—walk out and wait in the car.
It was an odd habit that my father had also done for my mother and sisters. I’d done it for my sisters, and then Landry.
God, I missed her.
I missed her so bad that it hurt.
“Okay, honey.” I lifted my hand as if to touch her cheek, and her eyes widened.
I stopped short of actually touching her, realizing what I was doing almost too late, and let my hand drop. “Sorry.
She smiled and patted my hand, then walked away, once again leaving me to stare at her ass the entire way.
Chapter 7
You look like something I drew with my left hand.
-Text from Wade to Landry
Landry
I felt like I was struggling to breathe.
God.
How had he known that I needed to stop? How had he known that I was hungry?
Why did the man know me so well?
At least, well enough to know my signs, I supposed.
After washing my hands in the sink, I dried them and contemplated how the next couple of hours were going to go.
I had a feeling not very good based on the way my heart was racing, and my knees felt weak.
Pushing through, though, I made my way outside to see him standing at the entrance of the building, waiting on me like he always did.
I smiled.
That smile grew even wider when I saw him clock the woman holding the screaming baby, looking extremely flummoxed as she tried to calm the baby down.
She had a toddler at her hip, whom she was holding onto by his shoulder with her one free hand, and she was watching another child get her own Icee, and making a big damn mess while doing it.
“No, honey,” the mother was trying to explain. “Put the lid on first.”
I continued to watch as Wade limped his way over, trying to conceal his pain the entire way.
When he arrived at the Icee machine, he helped the kid get the lid on the cup, then handed it back to her.
The kid, who had to be about four or five, looked over at Wade and grinned.
Kids always loved Wade. Always.
I didn’t know why. I didn’t know how. But I’d never seen one child who was afraid of him. Which usually ended up freaking the parent out.
“Thank you,” the mother said. “She’s independent and wanted to do it herself but as you can see she’s just not there yet.”
The mother lifted her hand from the toddler to gesture at her other child, and the toddler took off.
It was then I realized the reason behind the grip on the toddler.
He was a runner.
Wade caught him before he could skirt by him to the rack of candy at Wade’s back and picked him up in his arms.
“No!” the toddler yelled.
I tensed, wondering if the mother would take offense to Wade holding the kid.
Most did.
Wade was a big guy, and though he looked friendly, today he was wearing his motorcycle vest and that sometimes squigged parents out. When he was in his police officer uniform, it was fine.
But I shouldn’t have worried. The woman didn’t seem to care in the least that some random biker had just picked up her child.
Why did she not care? Because there was a man that was coming out of the bathroom who looked just as scary as Wade dressed in a cut just like Wade—only his deemed him a member of the Uncertain Saints.
“Yo,” the man said as he sidled up to us. “Need help, Mama?”
“Ridley,” the woman sighed. “Jesus, I didn’t think you were ever going to finish.”
He shrugged. “It’s not like I can tell my shit to come out any faster than it was. Wade, what the fuck?”
Wade, who obviously knew this Ridley person, handed him his kid in a smooth transfer then offered his hand to him.
Ridley took both, settling the toddler on his hip before taking Wade’s hand.
“Ridley,” Wade said. “It’s nice to see you. What are you doing in these parts?”
“Taking a shit,” he answered bluntly.
Wade grunted a response. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
The woman who belonged with Ridley handed the baby over to Ridley as well and then went to help her other child get a straw for the Icee. Ridley automatically curled his arm around the baby and started to bounce him. The baby didn’t like that any more than just being held.
“I’m on a seventeen-hour road trip to goddamn Disney World.” He paused. “We’re only on hour two, and I’m having a hard time staying sane. I’m not sure why the fuck we’re all going to Disney, but whatever. I’m fairly sure I should’ve objected. I would have had I known this one was going to scream for the entire trip.”
I snickered, causing Ridley and Wade to both look at me.
Ridley’s eyes were dark and knowing as he said, “Friend of yours, Wade?”
“Wife,” Wade answered immediately, then winced. “Ex-wife.”
“Huh,” Ridley replied.
The kid changed to another decibel and I walked over and smiled at Ridley as I said, “May I?”
Ridley shrugged and handed the baby over.
Though I may not have any kids of my own, I had run a daycare for the last few years. I dealt with babies all day, every day. They were my favorite part of working there.
Wade’s eyes warmed as he looked at me with the baby, and I turned my face away to look at the screaming infant.
“Shhhh,” I whispered into the baby’s ear, shushing and rocking.
Pulling the blankie closer around the baby, I turned him slightly in so that he was secure, and then hummed to him.
It didn’t take long, but what Wade had called Landry’s Secret Shake and Shush started to work. The baby’s wails turned to hiccups and then relaxed even further into complete sleep.
“Well, it’s official,” Ridley’s wife said. “We’ll have to take her to Disney with us.”
I looked at the woman and grinned. “Don’t feel bad. I do this all day every day. I have a daycare with about eight babies in it right now. When I’m not in the office, I’m in there helping calm the little ones. We have four babies under eight weeks, and two under six months. The older two are ten and eleven months, but they were there from the beginning, too. I do this way too much not to be good at it.”
She smiled at me in return. “My name is Freya, and if you ever want to leave your job and become my nanny, I’ll pay you in Hershey kisses and stray lasagna noodles.”
I burst out laughing, causing the baby’s eyes to open.
But the baby didn’t start screaming.
Instead, he started to look around expectantly. Then let out a rather large belch.
“Kid’s gassy as fuck,” Ridley grunted. “And I still have fifteen more hours of this bullshit.”
Freya smacked her husband on the ass and said, “You wanted the third. I specifically remember you telling me that it’d be perfectly fine. That third babies were always the easiest. Well, you were wrong.”
My lips quirked.
Ridley took his wife by the nape of the neck and pulled her into him, causing me to look away.
Right into a pair of eyes that looked like they were on fire.
I tilted my head and stared at Wade.
“What?” I asked, feeling my heart start to race.
He looked down at the child in my arms, and then back at me. “Nothing.”
His rumbled words may have come off nonchalant, but they weren’t.
I knew Wade.
He was thinking something about me, and it was making him hard.
I felt myself squirm, then walked over to the parents that were not through with their kisses and deposited their kid into Freya’s arms.
“It’s all in the shush,” I told her, trying valiantly to avoid the practical sear of heat coming off of Wade. “Sometimes you have to do it loud enough so they can hear it over their own cries, but I swear to Christ it works.”
Freya took her bundled son who was now staring around like it was all a party and grinned at me.
“I’ll give it a try.” She smiled.
Then her toddler knocked the Icee out of the other child’s hands, and red slush went everywhere.
Ridley sighed. “I’m sure you’re thankful you don’t have kids right about now.”
That was directed at Wade, who was staring at the mess on the floor like it only amused him.
“I’d give my right leg to have a kid of my own, Ridley,” Wade said, breaking my heart all over again.
And there was the other reason I’d left.
I couldn’t have kids.
One infection after a donation I’d given had left me infertile. So, I would never be having kids of my own—or giving Wade any of his.
Not only had the infection fried my reproductive system, but they’d taken my ovaries with the infection. To put the icing on the cake, I’d learned at the age of fifteen that my parents really didn’t care at all about me, because instead of trying to save my reproductive organs, my parents took the easy way out and just had them removed in case things went wrong in the future.
Why?
Because what if I got too sick, and couldn’t give their favorite daughter bone marrow if she may need it?
I’d, of course, known that my parents were pieces of shits from a very young age, but I hadn’t realized how far they’d stoop until they’d taken a piece of me that I hadn’t realized that I wanted until it was gone.
I felt something like a lead weight settle in my stomach, and I smiled at the crowd that was now gathered around.
“You ready, Wade?” I
asked softly.
Wade’s gaze met mine, and I saw something there that was really close to understanding.
Wade had seen my reaction and didn’t understand it.
But he’d try to figure out why, and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like the conversation that followed if he did find out.
But at this point, if he asked, I just might tell him what was wrong.
Which was exactly what he did the moment we got back into the car.
And, still feeling the heat emanating from the man beside me, I decided that it didn’t matter.
So what, if he knew why I was so sad?
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why did you get such a long face when I said I wanted kids?”
I laughed softly under my breath.
“I’m sad because I want kids, too,” I told him truthfully. “It makes me sad that I can’t have them.”
He was silent for a few long seconds.
“We could have them,” he said, sounding as if he was gentling a skittish horse. “If you wanted to.”
I laughed, and that laugh turned into a sniffle as the tears started to prickle my eyes. “If it was only that easy.”
He shifted into fourth gear as he started to merge onto the freeway, and my breath caught like it always did as we rushed into traffic at breakneck speeds.
I closed my eyes and breathed through the terror.
“It’s that easy if we make it that easy,” he said, sounding confident. “We could share them.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “If it were possible to have kids on my end, Wade, I might very well take you up on that offer. But I can’t. I had that possibility ripped away from me at fifteen.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and I felt the lowest of lows at seeing the look there.
“When we met, you said you didn’t want kids. You made it very clear before we married that you didn’t.” He paused. “You lied. You want kids, you just can’t have them.”
I nodded. “Correct.”
“Explains the no period thing…” He frowned. “Why lie about that?”
I looked down at my hands. “Because I hate thinking about it? Because had I told you that I couldn’t have kids, I would’ve then had to go into detail about why I couldn’t have kids. About how I donated bone marrow to my sister against my will, and that I got an infection that spread to my reproductive organs, which then were taken out of me instead of trying to correct the infection with antibiotics.”
How About No Page 6