by Unknown
Patrick is in the backseat sleeping on our drive home. He has no idea how monumental this moment is to our family. Hem explained to me that all he has gotten for the three months Patrick has been here are pictures taken in secret by Hood, delivered to his burn-phones. He told me he’s lived off those and any other details that Hood could get to him without putting everyone here in danger.
Walking into my house, I see Hem sitting up in the recliner, sleeping. He didn’t sleep last night. I know this only because every time I moved in the night, he grasped onto me so tight that I had to fight for breath before he realized what he was doing and let up.
“Honor, you can go. We’re good here.”
Poor, sweet Honor has been following me everywhere I go, daily. Shame likes to believe I’m still an oblivious, mourning idiot, walking around clueless, but I know when I’m being tailed.
Finally, this morning before I left a stressed out Hem at the Club, I told Honor I knew he was the one following me. His sweetly, southern gentleman’s mannerisms wouldn’t argue with me, but I could see he thought he was going to be in trouble for being found out.
“Hem gonna be around the rest of the day? I’m not supposed to leave you without checking in with Shame. He will have my ass if you’re left alone.”
“I’m fine. If something happens I have your number. Now put Patrick down and go before you wake him up. Patrick and Hem sleep like the dead, but waking them before they are ready is a mistake in any county.”
“Alright, take care, Sade. Call me if you need me.”
Closing and locking the door behind me, I make my way to Hem. He sleeps in peace. He looks so much younger when he’s resting without worry. I don’t want to delay him from meeting his son. However, I want him to rest and be ready for the shock.
Tonight we are going to Peril and Shame is going to have everyone there. Everyone wants to see Hem in the flesh, officially. Apparently, and as I figured, all of the members know about the contract Warren set up in the event of his own death. They have been briefed about Hem and why he came back. They know the danger lurking around us, waiting to strike.
I’m so lost in thought about tonight, I don’t hear Hem stir beside me, until I hear his gasp as his hand goes to his mouth in a show of awe. He’s spotted Patrick, who by my estimations, has still about four minutes of sleep left in him.
“That’s him. That’s my boy. I know his face.” Hem hasn’t taken his eyes off that car seat once since he awoke.
“Yes, Hem. That’s most definitely your boy and if you would wait a few mi….”
Oh, Jesus, never mind. No, he’s not going to wait even a few seconds because he’s already lifted his ass of the recliner and he’s tearing through Patrick’s blankets like its Christmas morning and his present has been waiting for him all month under the tree.
He picks a very tired baby up and cradles him in his large muscled arms, “God, Sadey, he’s beautiful.”
I turn to start straightening the living room. I don’t think I can watch this unfold… too emotional for me. “The pictures Hood sent me, his eyes were never open. Sadey, those are my eyes, aren’t they?”
Wait, what? Hem has my son in his arms and Patrick’s eyes are wide open looking into his fathers for the first time. His sleep has been disturbed and he hasn’t eaten, his diaper is most likely a mess, but surprisingly, he’s not crying. If I didn’t see this for myself I wouldn’t believe it. He has to remember Hem’s voice from while I carried him, or maybe Hem looks familiar to him in some unexplained way.
“He’s taken to you. Shame is the only man in his life that Patrick will be still for, but look at you with him. He’s quiet and content, now. I think maybe you should go put him in the bath right now, so you don’t get drunk with power thinking this is how he behaves all the time.”
“Sadey, shhh. Give me this moment, would you? Damn, woman.”
He smiles at me and his face lights up for the first time I’ve seen since seeing him yesterday. Hem looks at me and looks back to Patrick, then does what every damn father does to torment the tired mother. He talks to me through my son, “Mama thinks she’s gonna ruin this with that mouth of hers runnin’ at us, doesn’t she? She thinks because she’s across the room right now I won’t set my beautiful boy down to whip her ass. CJ, talk to your mother and set her right. That will save me time today. Hook me up, son.”
“Patrick Collins! Do not talk to my son about spanking my ass. What is wrong with you? Good grief, he’s just an infant. I’m serious about that bath, too. Both of you could use one. Mace is bringing Ryder over in a bit for you to watch so she and Shame can get things ready for the party tonight. One whiff of either of you and she’s going to go nuts and you know very well she will probably blame it all on Shame.”
I’m being ignored. Hem is lost in this moment of bliss with Patrick. He leans into Patrick’s head, takes a big whiff, and smiles ear to ear.
“This is my boy, Sadey. I have a son.” His eyes are filled with tears. This is where Hem’s heart gives him away. He’s a gentle lover and he will be a doting father.
He puts Patrick down in his vibrating chair and turns it on. Once it starts to fully vibrate under him, Hem lifts his head and smirks at me. This is where Hem’s brain gives him away. He’s a pervert. Lord, I just know he’s thinking dirty thoughts about a child’s chair. That’s how Hem’s mind works. Mental images of sixteen years from now and how Hem will be with teaching our child his life lessons in women and love appear and it scares the shit out of me.
Patrick gives Hem about thirty seconds of quiet, then he starts to scream, just as his mother knew he would. I smile, knowing I don’t even have to say that I told him so.
“He’s your boy now, Sadey. Jesus, is this kid for real? Damn it, he can cry. Fuck if that ain’t all you, baby.”
I can’t help but start laughing out loud at his assessment. He’s known our son, apparently now accepted as CJ, for five full minutes, yet he’s pegged nearly every personality trait. They’ve already bonded.
Chapter Seventeen
“Don't you drink? I notice you speak slightingly of the bottle. I have drunk since I was fifteen and few things have given me more pleasure. When you work hard all day with your head and know you must work again the next day what else can change your ideas and make them run on a different plane like whisky? When you are cold and wet what else can warm you?”
-- Ernest Hemingway
Am I ready for this? No. Am I looking like I’m ready for this? Hell, yeah. Again, those I love know I’m all about the dress up. My makeup is done, to perfection I may add. In a short skirt, high heels, and low hung shirt, I’m set for having a great night with my extended family. My hair is pulled up, exposing my neck and as I look in the mirror, I remember feeling Hem there again. The man knows my body well. It responds to him.
Mace is on her way here after taking Patrick and Ryder to my mom and dad’s. They know what’s happening tonight and they also know I don’t want any worries with all these men drinking. Tonight we are all going to party and celebrate Hem’s return.
Now that Hem has met his son and knows he can see him whenever he wishes, he’s not so demanding. I’m still in awe with how fast CJ took to Hem. One Hem in my life was overwhelming, but having two will most definitely make me continue to question my sanity.
Hem and I have yet to define our relationship. We are still married, even though he’s been a legally dead man for seven months. I’ve never once considered him as anything else other than my husband. He’s not rushing me into making any decisions about what our future holds. I’m thankful for that because Hem never takes anything slow, but he’s leading me through this, just as he has led me through every other life changing event.
“Are you ready for this?” Mace looks amazing. She never dresses up. She hates the fact that I make fun of her about it, but holy hell, she’s smokin’-hot tonight.
“It’s just a club party, Mace. We’ve gone to these before, right?”
&nbs
p; “Don’t lie to me, Sadey. One look at you standing there in front of me and I can see something is up. You look amazing. You look happy.”
“I do look amazing.” I wink at her, but damn it, I do. Sex must do that to a woman.
“Sadey, take a compliment, don’t add to it. Let’s go, Shame is waiting for me. My man has counted the days since we last danced together and, even though I didn’t listen to all his statistics, I know it’s been a very long time.”
“Don’t want to hear it, you and all your happy. I want that for you, but I also want it for me, too.”
She smiles at me, “Sweetie, your happy came home.”
As we make our way into the club, immediately my eyes go to Ace. He didn’t leave. I haven’t thought much about him since he came to my house the other day. He was talking in circles, but I was glad he came in attempt to smooth things. He can’t though. He loves me, but wasn’t honest about Hem staying with him in California or being married.
“Ace is here?” I hear a bit of anger coming from Mace. She’s been his fan since Hem left, but now that he is home, I can see blood is thicker than water. I don’t have any siblings, but I feel the same protective instinct in regards to Shame and Mace.
“Hem told me they left and took his woman back home. Damn, Mace, I don’t want to see her. She hates me and she doesn’t even know me.”
Mace moves her fingers in an up and down motion signaling my body. “Looking like that, she will like you even less.”
We round the common area saying ‘hi’ to all our friends. April and Honor are sitting on the couch, lip-locked. As sweet and courteous as Honor is, I would think he wouldn’t show so much affection in public, but he adores her and the world falls away when he’s with her.
I spot all of our men, Ace among them. Hem is looking beyond pissed. Shame is just studying the look on Hem’s face and Ace is looking straight at me as I make my way to them. I’m going to guess that since Ace is still standing, Hem doesn’t know about everything Ace and I shared prior to his arrival home.
“Sadey girl, you look…” Hem doesn’t know what to say. I like that… a lot. I told Mace I looked good.
“She looks beautiful, but she doesn’t need shoes, clothes, make up, or a curling iron for that.”
Thank you, Gunner. Gunner smiles at me as Hem turns to him and scowls. My husband may have left the cave for seven months, but it left him not once.
“Mace come here. I like the color of your lip gloss. I’m ready for a taste.”
Shit, Shame, good grief. The man is entirely uncouth. Mace walks straight to him, though. He lays a big, wet one on her for all of us to view, then grabs her hand and starts to walk away, leaving an empty barstool in the middle between Hem and Ace. Right as he walks past me, he stops and bends into my ear and so quietly tells me what I already kinda knew, but hearing it from Shame is just an added pat on the back. “Told you that you were going to be okay. You get your shit together?”
Hem is glaring at Shame as he’s leaned into me. Even Shame in my space can get him worked up.
If Hem wants to watch a show, I’ll give him one. I grab Shame’s face in my hands, pulling his ear to me and I whisper quiet in a seductive show, “I’m workin’ on it. My shit has been all over the damn place for a long time, but I’m workin’ on it.”
He looks at Hem who still can’t hear us, gives Hem a big, wide, white-toothed smile. Hem is glaring at Shame, readying himself to stand from the bar stool his ass currently is resting on.
Of course Shame blows Hem off, because Hem is in a good place and Shame won’t ruin that. “That’s what I want to hear, babe. Relax and just ‘be’ tonight. Got it?”
“Got it. Go and dance with your girl. She told me you’ve been looking forward to it.” Mace is smiling at Shame and I as we banter.
“Oh, Sweet Sadey, it’s not these dances I look forward to. It’s all about the private dance later that this leads up to. Those are what I wait for.”
Jesus, Shame. He’s not mine. Don’t want him as mine, but hell, even that turns me on. Mace, I hate you in this moment for being such a lucky bitch.
I pull out and sit in Shame’s vacated seat at the bar; Hem to my right and Ace to my left. It’s tug of war and I’m the rope. How symbolic? Ace doesn’t say anything to me, though. He’s waiting to see if I’m going to let my fury fly and I’m not. I have too many more feelings to work through. I’ve been honest with Ace from the start that I’m not ready and until I’m ready to let Hem go, I don’t have enough to give him. Although, this was before I knew Hem was coming home.
Hem pushes his stool back and, hearing the screech it makes on the floor, I glance up to him. He has his arms open. He’s asking me to come to him and sit on his lap. Hem never does passive-aggressive. This isn’t a play to piss Ace off by any means. He really believes I’m going to come to him, though, but I shake my head back and forth no, silently explaining that it’s not happening.
“Another drink, Cricket. Whiskey, double. Get Sadey a drink before you serve anyone else. What are you drinking, sugar?”
“Water.”
“Water?”
“Yes, Hem, water. It comes from a bottle or a well under the ground… thirst quenching… helps with hydration. You follow me?”
Cricket laughs on the other side of the bar. Hem hates to be the butt of a joke, but Cricket apparently hasn’t been around Hem long enough to catch that.
“Lose the sass. We are here tonight celebrating, even though I’m unsure why these people want to celebrate the fact I lost nearly seven months of my life, not to include losing you, and missing my son coming into the world. Regardless, woman, it’s a party and you look like that. Drink up and be merry.”
He looks me up and down and stops at my neck. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you, Hem. I’m not ready to start throwing them back, yet. I make bad decisions with too much alcohol.”
“Bug, you make bad decisions when you’re straight sober, so drink up.” Ace finally speaks and his sarcasm is directed at me. He’s staring ahead as he says it and I don’t receive the courtesy of eye contact. I’ve dropped to the bottom of his list, quickly, our friendship be damned.
Hem moves to look at Ace over my shoulder. “Shut your shit down. Unless you’re looking for the ass whippin’ I’m itchin’ to give you, shut your shit down.”
Ace says nothing after Hem’s direct statement. He just gets up and walks away.
Hem and I sit together, both looking at Cricket as he serves our drinks. Hem downs his in a quick pull, then takes my hand in his and stands up. I stop him from pulling me up since I already told him his lap was not going to be my chair.
“Dance with me?”
What?
“You don’t dance. You never dance. Do you even know how?” Seriously, he’s shocking the hell out of me with this.
“I never did a lot of things with you that I should have. Dance with me, Sadey girl.”
I let him lead me to the dance floor. As if on cue, the music stops whatever god-awful country song that was just on. Then I hear the slow, seductive tone of the music that Hem played for me our first night together; the same song he played when he asked me to marry him. I thought I was getting stronger. I’m not.
Dropping his hands and pushing him away from me, I turn to leave. I need a few minutes before I continue my charade. Right now is not the time to reminisce about how perfect my life was before Hem’s death.
I’m walking through the halls aimlessly, moving people out of my way so I can get through. Most folks are walking past me without holding eye contact. This tells me Hem is behind me, coming for me. I just need a few damn minutes.
I turn to address him and with all my pent up feelings, I am ready to lead my verbal attack with a hurtful comment about how the dead can’t walk…that he’s a ghost, but as I turn and start opening my mouth, Hem already has a side door open and pushes me through it.
“Hem, stop. I’m not a damn doll.” Jesus, caveman.
<
br /> “Shhh, don’t talk. Dressed like that, smelling like that… I can’t believe you can’t hear my thoughts about pulling that skirt to your waist and fucking you right here.”
My stomach does a small flip, warming me inside.
I stand here speechless as he closes the door and makes quick-like work on the locks. The room is completely dark and I have no idea what or whose room this is. Before I can continue my line of thought, Hem is on me and pushing me against the door, lifting my skirt.
I stop his assault to my body for just a second. I need a breath, but he’s taking my mouth as if he hasn’t ever tasted me. “Wait, Hem, please.”
“Not now. Hike your legs, baby.”
I can smell the alcohol on his breath at my neck as he’s working hard. My nipples are pebbled, pushing against my bra, as he positions my body how he wants me, causing friction. Jesus, maybe I am a damn doll.
I’m completely turned on after only a kiss. He owns me and he knows it. I do as I always do, and that is to comply with exactly what he says. He lifts me off the ground. His jeans are already unbuttoned and he’s entering me with deprivation.
My wits have left me… all gone. I’m holding onto his shoulders as he fucks me against the door.
I move my face from his neck and push him back slightly, halting his movements, “You want your naked girl? Take her to that naked bed.”
He smiles against my lips and I feel him headily exhale. He knows he’s getting carried away, and although I certainly don’t mind being man-handled again by him, I want to enjoy this. Last night we were rushed. I want to feel him taking time on me.
“You want to ride me from the top this time or are you going to fuck me from the bottom again? Don’t give a flyin’ fuck either way, sugar. I just wanna be advised where you want me.”