Dakota is a carbon copy of her mother. She’s also a fuck ton more serious than most kids her age. Quieter more introverted, harder to get to know. The trait she’s inherited from Tilly that overshadows the rest however, is her ability to project her pain throughout a room. She doesn’t do it consciously or with the intention of upsetting anyone, but it does nonetheless.
For the longest time, when Kota was younger, I worried about whether she’d make friends because of how reserved she is. I shouldn’t have, she was still so young there was a good chance she’d outgrow it. But any man will tell you that if his baby girl is suffering he is too, which had me desperately trying to work out how to help her through whatever was causing her to act this way.
In the end, it was a fifteen-year old kid, with a fucked up past, problems of his own, and a lifetime of nightmares to overcome that ended up being a godsend when it came to coaxing Kota out of her shell. He’s patient, calm, and more determined than anyone to help her grow into the young lady she was destined to be. Moreover, he doesn’t allow her to live in her head for too long. Cody carefully, but firmly, encourages my daughter to look outside the box she’s happy to put herself in. He makes her take a look around at what she could be a part of if she only tried harder.
I was concerned about the interest Cody showed in Kota at first. I mean, the kid’s fifteen. It didn’t make sense to me that he’d want to hang out with a shy little girl who was just as determined to push him away as he was to get close to her. It was wrong of me to be suspicious of him, because he was just trying to help, but can you blame me? I’m her dad. Any guy spending time with my baby I’m going to be on alert around.
But it was Ade, and the patient way she explained that Cody had first-hand experience with kids like Kota, Emmaline, his sister being the example she offered, that I became able to breathe a little easier. Not a lot, but a little.
“You’ve got to understand, Saint. Cody’s childhood was worse than most. Sure, Nick was there to shield him from a lot of it, but kids hear and see things, regardless of how hard we try to shelter them from it,” Ade said gently.
“What would Reaper do if someone a hell of a lot older than Emma was spending this much time with her?” I enquired, not half as gently as she’d spoken to me. I wasn’t feeling gentle either. I was feeling fucking livid.
Snorting Ade rolls her eyes praying for strength.
“The same damn thing, and you know it. I would be doing the same thing with him as I am with you as well though, Saint. That little girl of yours needs someone in her corner that isn’t you, and isn’t her mother. She needs someone she feels comfortable opening up to, and for whatever reason that’s, Cody. There’s a connection there, and before you say it, no, it’s not an inappropriate one.”
“He’s a teenage boy, Ade. How the fuck do you know what he’s thinking?” I demand of her.
“Because Cody talks to me you, idiot,” Ade snaps back. “At the moment he’s her only friend, and you have the choice to accept that or break her heart. She’s attached to him, Saint. She doesn’t know why or how it happened, but she views him as a safe person to confide in, and she needs that right now. With everything going on around her she needs a safe place to land, and that place is Cody. He would never hurt her. He sees too much of himself in her to do that. The thing is, he’s in the best position to guide her in a way that will hopefully help her to become less self-contained.”
I didn’t like it. I really didn’t like it, but I love my daughter and I wanted the best for her. If allowing her to spend time with a boy that had seen atrocities I don’t even want to think about helped her, then who was I to stand in her way. I certainly wasn’t in the position to do anymore for her than I already was, so why not let him try.
For the most part Cody hasn’t managed to help change the way Kota interacts with people, but she’s no longer shying away from answering my questions, which she had been doing regularly before. More often than not, we’re met with a glare or one word response from her now, but at this point I’ll take what I can get.
Avery, my middle child and borderline ADHD, extroverted diva is the polar opposite of her sister. Not only does she have absolutely no fucking filter, which is entertaining most of the time, she’s got no problems with putting two hundred and fifty pound, forty-plus year old bikers in their place. And just between you and me, they think it’s fucking hilarious that my little diva gives them sass and orders them about. They won’t admit it, but it makes their day on the odd occasions I bring her to the clubhouse with me.
Nevaeh, or Nevie as Avery calls her, is only two, but I’ve already got the impression my baby’s going to be more like her oldest sister, Kota, than Avery. Nevie is quiet, almost too quiet. She rarely cries. She isn’t demanding, and most of the time you’ll find her curled up on her mom or Reaper’s lap during a club get together instead of having fun and enjoying playing with the other kids. Why Reaper of all people I’ll never know, but my little girl loves that big hard ass biker to death, and she’s not afraid to use tears to stop anyone from separating them when it’s time for her to go. Nevie is also the only one of my girls I’ve actively had to work daily at building a relationship with, and I still am.
When everything started to go to shit in mine and Tilly’s relationship, which was before Nevie was even born, I’ve felt myself drifting further away from my girls. It didn’t help that it was during one of our worst periods that Nevie was born, or that Tilly’s labor and Nevie’s delivery was so traumatic the images still haunt me to this day.
Tilly went into labor with Nevaeh on time, a day early I think. Where most labors build up over time and you get notice your kid is coming into the world, Nevaeh was born inside of twenty minutes. The speed and trauma left Tilly hemorrhaging so badly I had to make the call for the doctors to remove one of Tilly’s fallopian tubes in order to save her life.
Apparently the damage was caused when her fallopian tube ruptured while she was giving birth. They don’t know why, and they’ve never been able to give us a clear understanding as to what went wrong. All I can remember from that day was the blood, so much fucking blood. It was everywhere. I’ll admit I had a fucking meltdown when they wheeled my wife away from me. As in, totally fucking psychotic, screaming, crying meltdown. It didn’t matter how many times they insisted they weren’t taking her from me, that they were trying to save her life, I couldn’t process what was going on. All I could see was my wife, and more blood than I thought the human body held all over the floor, the bed, and her.
I didn’t leave Tilly’s side until she opened those gorgeous eyes of hers, and I could see for myself she’d be alright. I didn’t leave once, not even to visit Nevie in the nursery. I should have, I know that, but I just couldn’t bring myself to welcome the baby that may have killed her mother into the world. Was it wrong of me to think that way? Yes, but that didn’t change how I felt at the time.
It’s been a long road to get Nevie to acknowledge me with any kind of interest other than the occasional glance to see I’m still there. She knows I’m her dad. She knows I love her. And she also knows I’d do anything and everything for her, or at least I hope she does. But what she doesn’t know, and she never will if I have a choice, is that I resented her with a burning passion the day she was born, and it took a lot of work for me to get past that.
Resenting one of my kids isn’t something I thought I’d ever be capable of, and deep down I know I didn’t resent her so much as I did myself, and what could have happened because I wanted another child. I begged, pleaded, and demanded Tilly give me another baby. Most of it was due to me being a selfish asshole and liking to see her rounded with my babies, but the other part was because I thought it might fix what’s broken with us. I thought that having another baby would make that weakening bond between us stronger. But like everything else lately, I was wrong about that too. It didn’t fix anything with us, if anything it put an even bigger strain on us.
Breaking me out of that distu
rbing memory Dakota’s replies, all the while still moving toward the front door.
“I’ve got my bag, dad. Kenny said she’d pick me up on her way past before she drops Kane and Cody at school.”
Kendall’s been picking Dakota up two days a week for the last two months at Kota’s request. She likes spending the drive to school with Cody, and seeing as she rarely asks for anything I can’t bring myself to say no to her.
“Alright, baby. You got your lunch?”
Rolling her eyes she props a hand on her hip making me try to stifle a laugh that bubble from my chest at the sight.
“Yes, mom packed it last night. Where were you last night anyway?”
Such a simple question, yet such a complicated answer. Thankfully before I have to lie to one of my kids, again, I hear the horn blare and watch Dakota scramble to get all her stuff. When she’s at the threshold of the door I call out,
“What, no kiss for your old man?” I didn’t have to ask for something as simple and routine as a kiss goodbye before. A few years back she would have demanded one of me before I ever had to. Just another thing that’s changed.
Running back she gives me a harried peck on the cheek, before hightailing it out the door after giving each of her sisters a hug. I reach down and scoop Nevie into my arms nuzzling the side of her neck, which makes her giggle. Making my way back into the kitchen to get her breakfast started, I see Tilly standing in the archway watching us.
Hair wet from her shower, still dripping, she’s dressed in her usual attire of painted on denim jeans and a tank. But regardless of matter casually she’s dressed, Tilly’s still the single most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Even after all the years we’ve been together, despite everything we’re going through right now, I can’t imagine there’ll ever be a day I don’t want her and admire her beauty.
Before I can walk past her she reaches out, gripping my forearm lightly.
“We need to talk later, Saint.” At her words all I can do is nod. I knew this day was coming, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out Tilly’s close to, if not at, her breaking point.
Nevie wriggles unhappily in my arms trying to get down so she can make her way to her mom. I place her on her feet and watch as Tilly scoops her up cooing to her quietly.
“I’ve got a run later today. Priest said it’d be three days, maybe four at the outset. You need me to do anything before I go?” Eyeing me warily I can see the doubt written all over my wife’s face. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t need to. I know her well enough to be able to read every one of her looks. I can’t say it doesn’t piss me off she’d question me with her eyes, but I know I’ve given her good reason to. I don’t have the right to demand she trust me. Not anymore, but it still stings that she doesn’t.
See, this is where our sordid tale gets even more fucked up. Tilly knows about the other woman in my life. She knows my other not so well protected secret too…my son. The fact Stacey had my boy in the same hospital while Tilly was still recovering after having Nevie didn’t help me hide it, but Tilly knew long before that, so was a moot point.
I never planned stepping out on my wife, but I suppose every cheater says that. However, in my case it’s actually true. I’m not using it as an excuse, merely stating a fact. How it happened is simple. It wasn’t premeditated, and frankly, if I’d been in my right mind it wouldn’t have happened. Bluntly put, I fucked up. I got wasted, as in, can’t remember a fucking thing wasted, and woke up bare assed naked with a woman plastered to my side that wasn’t my wife.
I felt like a piece of shit afterward, like I’m sure every man who’s been faced with that scenario does, and promptly freaked the fuck out. When I calmed my ass down, everything inside me screamed at me to tell Tilly. Told me to try and explain it to her, but then I realized that would be pointless. I didn’t, and still can’t remember a thing, all I know is I fucked up. So how in the hell could I explain anything to her if I didn’t know what had happened myself?
Of course, like most men in a situation like this, I made an even bigger mistake by trying to hide it, which is something I’ve sincerely regretted ever since. Obviously I wasn’t too careful that night either, making another critical error in judgement be forgetting to wrap my junk.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my boy Tucker, but the fallout from his conception and birth was hell on Earth. It still is. I live with the aftermath of my fuck up daily, and no matter how hard I try to envisage a time Tilly and I get past this I can’t. Not that I blame her for feeling the way she does, because I don’t.
When the news came out that I’d fathered someone else’s baby I was kicked in the balls by all of the old ladies at least once. Literally not figuratively. Four or five times by Priss until Tank restrained her and dragged her out of the clubhouse. The worst of it though was when Tilly found out, from Stacey no less. Her reaction all but ripped my heart out. It was so bad I can still remember it like it was yesterday, the whole conversation is burned into my brain, and etched permanently into my memory.
Sitting across from Tilly who’s curled into an armchair, I lower myself onto the couch and start talking without hesitation.
“Gotta talk to you, sweetness. I’ve got some shit to tell you, but I want you to hear me out before you say anything.” I’d gone over and over it in my head a million times, and decided I couldn’t live with myself if I kept lying to her. She deserved to know the truth, so today I decided was going to be the day I confessed all.
Throwing her hand up Tilly cuts me off.
“I already know, Saint. I know it all. Every single heart destroying detail.”
That’s when I knew things had already changed between us. Because not once in our entire relationship had she called me Saint. Not until today.
“What do you know, babe?” It was a stupid fucking question, especially when I could see the accusation written all over her face.
I want to make something clear before I tell you about the conversation that blew my whole fucking world apart. My wife, the reason my heart beats, my Tilly, is the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You might think that by staying with a cheating asshole, one who has a child with someone else makes her weak, but you’d be dead wrong. It takes a strong woman to hold steady in the face of a storm like the one that was brewing here.
Shifting to make herself more comfortable Tilly snaps at me.
“I know everything, Saint. Stacey approached me at the store yesterday and happily told me your news. From what I can gather, if what she said was true, you’ve got more than one reason to celebrate coming up soon.”
You need to bear in mind my wife is four months pregnant with Nevie at this point, and the last thing I want her doing is getting too worked up. Easier said than done I know, but I didn’t want this to be harder on her than I already knew it was going to be.
“Jesus Christ. Fuck, I’m sorry, sweetness. I told her to stay the fuck away from you and the girls. I told her I’d tell you in my own time, but she just kept running her mouth demanding it be now and…”
“Shut your mouth, Saint. It’s time you let me talk.” Needless to say, when you’re in the position I am, there’s only one acceptable reaction when your wife gets pissed like this. You shut your mouth, nod, and let her say what she needs to. “I spent all of last night and this morning thinking about this, and I want you to know from the outset that this is coming from me. No one else, only me. I haven’t spoken to anyone else about it and I won’t.”
Not what I was expecting. I figured Tilly would have run it past at least Priss, because those two tell each other everything. At the same time I’m not that surprised she didn’t. Especially seeing as Priss has been busy with Tank and their forth kid, Jacob, who was only born three weeks ago.
“The way I see it we have a few ways this can go. One, you can pack your shit and move in with the bitch you’ve knocked up.” I go to speak, to tell her that’s not an option but she silences me with another raised hand. “Let me finish.” Tilly
waits patiently until I clamp my jaw shut yet again, glaring at me the whole time. “But that would be too easy, so I’m not inclined to go that route. Two, you can pack your shit and go find an unoccupied room at the clubhouse until I work out where we’re going to go from here.” Shaking her head she sighs. “Now, that one I seriously considered for a while there. I decided against it because I have no doubt you’ll keep fucking around, and I don’t have any intention of giving you free rein to do so. Three, you stay here and we go through the motions while I file for a divorce.”
This time I don’t pay her hand any mind before cutting in.
“No, no fucking way. That’s not happening, so get that out of your head right now, Tilly.”
“I said let me finish for Christ’s sake,” she yells before taking a deep breath. “But divorce would be too easy to, wouldn’t it? It would wrap things up in a neat little package for you. It would leave you free to make a nice, new, little family with the home wrecking slut that thought it was a good idea to fuck my husband for the past eight months,” she says sneering. “So no, that’s not a viable option either. The last one, the one I think is going to work for everyone is; you’re going to play this out, Saint. You’re going to have to live with consequences of your actions. You’re going to have your cake and eat it too per say. You’re going to live both lives.”
Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel Page 2