Irons and Works: The Complete Series

by E M Lindsey

  “Mr. Ruiz,” Tracy said, not unkindly, but firmly enough that he stopped rambling. “We’re not here to give you custody of your daughter.”

  His daughter. It was damn near impossible to wrap his mind around that. “Oh.”

  “We needed to establish paternity, and then discuss with you a plan of action,” she said. “You have every right to petition for custody, but from what you’re saying, it sounds like that’s not the best route. For you or for Callie.”

  “I don’t want her to feel abandoned,” he admitted. “Like I don’t…like I don’t care or anything.”

  “Callie is going through a lot, but she will get through it. She has love and support,” Tracy said with a tone that eased a little bit of Miguel’s worry.

  “And her mom?”

  At that, Tracy’s expression darkened. “She was removed from her care. Ms. Tyndall has the opportunity to work through the program to regain custody, but she’s not being very cooperative at the moment. I can’t tell you much of anything, only that Callie will only return to her custody if we feel she will be completely safe.”

  Miguel licked his lips, then nodded. “Okay. That’s all I care about. Will uh…will you be able to keep me posted? On how she’s doing?”

  “I will. I do want to warn you that you’ll probably be served with an order of child support during all of this.”

  Miguel waved her off. “I’m not worried about that.”

  “Just know it isn’t personal. This isn’t someone trying to fleece you or…”

  Miguel gave her a look and she stopped. “It might have been a bad night with a broken condom—and I might not have gone out of my way to make sure nothing happened because of that night—but I’m not an asshole, Ms. Andrews.”

  Tracy laughed again and shook her head. “You weren’t what I was expecting.”

  Miguel couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah. I never am.”

  Miguel agreed to stay in town for a week after Tracy said Callie’s grandparents wanted to meet. It was agreed by all parties that he wouldn’t meet the little girl. It would be too much for either of them, especially as Miguel had made it clear he had no plans to get custody of her. Her trauma was a lot, even if he didn’t get the gritty details, and he didn’t want to scare her.

  He was introduced to Rob and Ellen on a quick phone call and had eventually arranged for them to meet at the little American diner around the corner from his hotel. He didn’t know what to expect, and the only thing he assumed they wanted was money, which was fair. He didn’t have much, but he also wouldn’t be like his old man. He wasn’t just going to leave them high and dry. She might wonder about her old man someday, and at the very least, she’d know he’d done some part in taking care of her.

  He was there before the Tyndalls arrived, and he had ordered himself a fizzy water which he sipped, trying to control his anxiety. Meeting new people was bad enough, but the thought of these people looking at him like he was a monster threatened to gut him. His hand twitched, desperate to reach out to Amit again, but he didn’t want to burden him. Amit’s mother was still recovering, his sister planning a wedding, his work schedule erratic and intense as he tried to pay off medical bills. The last thing he needed was Miguel’s bullshit weighing him down.

  He tapped his fingers on the table, his other hand in his lap, sleeve pulled firmly over his palm. More than anything, he wished he could have discovered his own version of self-acceptance the way the guys at the shop had done, or at the very least, compartmentalized. Maybe, given time with them, he’d get there. But right now, he felt alone.

  A voice from his left calling his name had Miguel spinning in his chair, and he lumbered to his feet, feeling like a clumsy giant. He took in the couple—typical suburban white people with pale hair and peach skin and light eyes—the woman was wearing a cardigan and the man had on golf shorts. They could have rolled off any crappy sit-com set in some midwestern town, and his stomach rolled.

  He knew what he looked like in comparison to them—their worst nightmare, probably. After everything their daughter had gotten up to, he didn’t think it was possible to make anything close to a good impression.

  All the same, he stuck out his hand. “Thanks for meeting me here. I don’t know the city all that well.”

  Rob gave him an appraising look, gaze lingering on the right side of his face which was no surprise, really, and he didn’t mind. At any rate, neither of them looked afraid, and he counted it as a win as he shook Ellen’s hand.

  “Did you order anything yet?” Rob asked.

  Miguel shook his head as he settled back down in his chair. “Honestly, I don’t know that I could eat much right now.”

  Ellen laughed, her cheeks faintly pink. “I know what you mean. This is unconventional, isn’t it?”

  Miguel didn’t exactly have an answer to that. It was, but so was most of his life, at least when he measured it up to the way the Tyndalls lived. Instead, he sipped his drink, then offered what he hoped looked like a genuine smile. “Do you live around here?”

  Rob shook his head. “Up north a bit. The Mesquite Ridge community.”

  Miguel didn’t know it, of course, but anything with ‘community’ attached to it was likely to be one of those rich, gated places he’d never been granted access to. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “Honey,” Ellen said, and he was startled by how genuine she sounded, “you don’t have to keep apologizing. When Tracy told us everything, we realized you were in for far more of a shock than we ever were. Frankly, we were expecting Cristin to come home pregnant long before she had Callie. She kept telling us you were around, but Callie never mentioned you, and eventually we assumed you’d taken off.”

  Miguel sighed. “I hate to say I don’t remember your daughter—I mean I remember when it happened. But it was…I had a lot going on, and I left that night.”

  “That’s what Tracy told us,” Rob said. “She said you left that lifestyle behind.”

  Miguel bristled at the way the other man said it. Yes, his old man’s club right before he died was a bad one, but he knew far too much to paint them all with such a broad brush. He knew white-collar, wall street criminals who had committed far more heinous crimes than his granddad’s club could even conceive of.

  “I work at a tattoo shop right now,” he said, because he didn’t know what they expected out of him. “I’m doing my apprenticeship and I’ll probably stay where I’m at, but I’m not involved in club life anymore. I was never patched in.” At the confused look on their faces, he shrugged. “Means initiated. I was never a member. My dad was the president of one, then we left, and he joined another.”

  “And you got hurt,” Ellen said, trailing off with a question in her tone.

  Miguel was so tired of answering that question. “When I was seventeen. House fire. Ruined my hip, lost my hand, fuh—uh—messed up my face pretty good.” He knew they knew—there was no way Tracy hadn’t prepared them at least a little. “None of it’s genetic or anything.”

  Ellen and Rob’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no,” Ellen said, putting her hand on the table. “We weren’t worried about that, sweetheart.”

  Before Miguel could answer, a server came by, and Rob quickly ordered a couple drinks for himself and his wife, and an appetizer sampler. There was a long, awkward pause, then Rob sighed and leaned over the table. “Tracy said you’re not going to fight us for custody, and I think we wanted to hear it from you.”

  “Hear what from me, exactly?” Miguel asked.

  “Mostly your reasons why. She’s your daughter.” Rob said it so matter-of-factly, as though that was reason enough to tear a traumatized girl from her home. He could see the real issue though—they were scared. They’d fought tooth and nail for this little girl, and after winning, suddenly her father appears.

  “I wouldn’t be good for her. Not now, and by the time I was, it wouldn’t do her any good to be ripped away from her family,” Miguel admitted. “
If she didn’t have you, I could make it work, but I’m not about to drag her from the only home she’s ever really known and throw her into some tiny one-bedroom cottage with a stranger.”

  Ellen got an uncomfortable look, but she kept his gaze. “She’s been through a lot worse than that. Her mom,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “They found Cristin on the verge of an overdose. Callie had managed to get the neighbors attention—but she hadn’t eaten in a day or two. She was a mess, she…” Ellen paused, sniffing, and it was clear she couldn’t go on.

  “They don’t think she was hurt or…you know. No strangers had touched her,” Rob said, his voice just as rough. “But she’s not talking about it much.”

  “That’s all the more reason to let it lie. She’s been through enough. She don’t need some strange man covered in scars giving her nightmares.” It gutted him to say it, but it was the truth. And Miguel wanted kids maybe—in the future. When he was certain he could give them a better future than his old man had given him. But that wasn’t now.

  “She wouldn’t think of you like that,” Ellen said. “She’s such a good, sweet girl. But we do want her. We’ve been prepared to fight this whole time.”

  “It’s not necessary,” Miguel said, holding up his hand. “I just want what’s best. I’d be happy to send money or…”

  “We don’t want that either,” Ellen said. “We’d…” She chanced a look at her husband who nodded. “We’d like you to sign your rights away. We’re pursuing adoption since Cristin took off and she’s probably not coming back.”

  It was the strangest thing. In spite of coming into the whole mess determined to make sure he didn’t walk away with a child, the request took him by surprise. His first gut instinct was to say no, and he wasn’t quite sure why.

  “We know it’s a lot,” Rob said, his tone soothing. “We want you to take a few days to think about it.”

  “And if I say no?” Miguel challenged. He absently dragged his fingers through the condensation on his glass. “Will you come after me legally?”

  The pair exchanged a look, then Ellen took a breath. “We’ll do whatever we need to in order to protect and provide for Callie.”

  So yes. The answer was yes. They’d drag him through court, and it’s not like he’d win against people like this. Wealthy, put together, no criminal record. Miguel’s were all petty crimes in his youth, but they were still there. He didn’t have much to his name, he was nomadic. Hell, he didn’t even really have insurance. There was no way he was in a position to provide.

  And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Not right away, not on a whim.

  “I don’t,” he started, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, this has all been more than I was prepared to deal with.” He took a long breath, blowing it out slowly and decided to lay all his cards out on the table. “I’m gay. I’m a gay man, a biker, a tattoo artist, pretty fucking nomadic. When your daughter came to me, I was in a really bad emotional state, but I took precautions. This wasn’t part of the plan, and I think I need a minute.”

  “We’re not asking you to tell us now,” Ellen said. “Rob was serious—we want you to take a few days and understand what all of this means. We’re not doing any of this to punish you. We’re not trying to hurt anyone. We’re just trying to keep Callie safe.”

  That much he was sure about. He could see it in their faces, hear it in their tone. They weren’t wrong to ask this of him, he just wanted to understand why it was bothering him so much to do the one thing he’d come there to do.

  They parted ways, Miguel not having touched the food, and it was a stilted goodbye. He promised to call them in a couple of days, and he spent the afternoon riding up and down the street on his bike, letting the sound of the wind lull him into a half-meditative state. By the time he got back to the hotel, he realized he needed help.

  He had an entire contact list of people now that he could bring in on this. Sam was the most logical choice since he’d been through it, but Sam had fought for his daughter, he wasn’t trying to give her up. In fact, none of them seemed to be in a position like his at all, which was why he ended up calling Tony and holding his breath as it rang.

  “Hey, man,” Tony said just before the voicemail picked up. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

  Miguel breathed out. “Yeah I uh…there’s…” He had no idea how to start.

  “It’s going that bad?” Tony asked, his voice laced with concern.

  Miguel fell back against the bed and used his right palm to press the phone to his ear while he dragged his fingers through his hair. “I met the grandparents today. They have custody of the kid. My kid,” he said, because it was only fair he acknowledge it.

  Tony was silent for a few moments. “Okay. Did they give you a hard time?”

  Miguel smiled at Tony’s protective tone in spite of himself. “No. I mean, not really. You can tell they really just want the kid to be safe, you know? But they uh…they asked me to sign my rights away.”

  “Okay,” Tony said slowly, then grunted like he’d dropped into a seat. “Talk to me about that. It’s clearly got you twisted up.”

  Miguel pinched his eyes shut with his thumb and fingers and just let himself feel how upended the whole situation really was. “I don’t want a kid. I mean, not right now. Maybe in the future, but by that point she’ll already be old enough that taking her wouldn’t be fair. Even now, she’s already four. She’s been through a lot of shit thanks to her mom, and these grandparents really care about her.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Tony pointed out.

  “I know,” Miguel said. “I didn’t come here to try and parent this kid. Hell, I was almost sure the DCS agent was going to tell me they’d made some big mistake and she wasn’t mine. I used a fucking condom.”

  “Yeah, well, so did I,” Tony said with a laugh.

  Miguel’s lip twitched, but he wasn’t in the mood for laughing. “I don’t want this—I don’t want any part of this, so why is it fucking me up to sign my rights away?”

  “Because it’s forever?” Tony offered. “Because your dad was a piece of shit and you don’t want to be that man to your daughter, even if walking away is better for her.”

  Miguel felt his gut twist, and he knew that’s what it was. He also felt wrong that he was making this decision alone. It wasn’t Amit’s kid, but Miguel was ready to commit, and he wanted Amit involved in all aspects of his life. “I think maybe I need to know I’m not a bad person for doing this.”

  “I’d argue you’d a better person for it,” Tony said. “I couldn’t imagine not having my little girl, but when Kat found out she was pregnant, we were ready. Unplanned, but ready. Like you said, she’s been through enough. The greatest gift you can give that girl is stability and love.”

  Miguel swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Thanks. I think I just needed to hear it.”

  “I understand,” Tony said. “We’re always here for you. And I know this is a shitty time, man. I mean, the breakup with Amit…”

  Miguel’s entire body went ice cold. “The breakup?”

  “Yeah. We ran into him last night—he was on a date with some girl which was pretty fucked up. I mean, it’s only been what, five days?”

  Miguel could barely hear through the ringing in his ears. “Um. I didn’t know.” He didn’t know. Amit had texted only once while he’d been gone, but he assumed the guy was giving him space to deal with the situation. He hadn’t realized goodbye had been goodbye. Not like that.

  “Are you two still talking?” Tony asked.

  Miguel forced his hand away from his face and blinked his eyes open, the ceiling blurry and distorted. “No,” he admitted. Because they hadn’t been. “No, I guess we aren’t. I haven’t heard from him since I left.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry to tell you like this. I figured…I don’t know.” Tony let out a tense laugh. “He’s always been such a good guy, I figured he’d be up front with you.”

  I thought so too, Mig
uel said to himself. He forced out a laugh. “Yeah well, my luck has always been pretty shitty with relationships anyway. And we were never really together. I mean, we never talked about it.”

  “Yeah, but,” Tony started, then stopped himself. “Sorry, totally none of my business. We’ll take you out when you get home, yeah? Hit up the club, do some fun shit.”

  “Yeah,” Miguel breathed out, but he didn’t mean it. Not fucking now, not when he realized just how easy it was for people to walk away from him. He’d been so goddamn sure he was falling in love, that Amit had at least returned some of his feelings. He’d been so goddamn sure there was something. It wasn’t like Kyle this time. It was worse. “Talk later, man.”

  “You bet.”

  They hung up, and Miguel rolled onto his stomach. The position hurt his hip, but the pain kept him grounded as he closed his eyes and did everything he could not to picture the woman Amit was on a date with. She’d be ridiculously attractive, funny, smart, quick wit—everything Miguel wasn’t. She’d have the ability to give him everything he wanted without bullshit standing in his way.

  He reached for his phone and brought up Derek’s contact, sending the text before he could really second guess himself.

  Miguel: When shit is going sideways for you—when your past is trying to choke you to death, what do you do?

  * * *

  Derek: I call this number. Her name is Alexis. I see her when I’ve reached the end of my ability to handle my shit on my own. Let me text her and let her know to expect you. Give me five.

  * * *

  Miguel: You don’t need to do that.

  * * *

  Derek: Yeah, I do. Promise me you’re going to call her.

  * * *

  Miguel: I promise.