Irons and Works: The Complete Series

by E M Lindsey

  “So, Mr. Ruiz…”

  “Miguel is fine,” he corrected.

  Soren laughed. “Fair enough. Can I get you some coffee or water?”

  Miguel shook his head. “Nah. I don’t think this’ll take long. Rowan said it’s a good idea, but I’m not all that sure.”

  Soren’s brows furrowed. “About signing your rights away?”

  “No,” Miguel said. “No. I mean about coming here today. The rights thing…that’s…yeah. I should do that. I mean, it’s the logical thing, right?”

  “There’s not some black and white, right and wrong answer here, Miguel,” Soren said. He pulled out a yellow legal pad and a pen, clicking the top, but he let the tip hover over the page without making a mark. “Rowan didn’t have a lot of information on your case, so I think I’d like to start at the beginning.”

  Miguel tried not to look as irritated as he felt. He was damn tired of reliving this over and over, and it wasn’t exactly a complicated situation. He fucked a junkie, he took off for Florida, and four years later he found out he fathered a kid.

  “Rowan says you spent most of your life in a motorcycle club?”

  Miguel clenched both fists. “Uh. Sort of? I was never patched in. You know what that means?”

  Soren laughed, though it wasn’t a cruel sound. “Yeah. I’ve been involved with a few clubs in my life.”

  That didn’t surprise Miguel at all, but it did help to ease some of the tension. “My granddad was prez, then my old man took over, but he was run out and I went with him. Our old club was great before he took over, but this place in San Antonio was a real shit-show. They didn’t do much, always broke, bunch of guero junkies. The night before I took off to Florida, one of my dad’s women ended up in my room and I fucked her.”

  “And you used protection,” Soren stated, like he knew that part, even if Miguel hadn’t said.

  “Yeah. Always. I mean, I’m gay. Always have been, but it was just a weak moment.”

  Soren’s smile softened. “We all have them.”

  Miguel shrugged, not really wanting sympathy for his stupid mistake. “I didn’t know shit about this kid until I get the call from DCS. The agent was really nice about it, and the grandparents seem like they’re doing a good job with her. They want to adopt her.”

  Soren took a few notes, then clicked the pen a few times before looking up. “And you don’t want to have a relationship with her? Your daughter, I mean?”

  Miguel had been training himself to refer to Callie that way, even if he’d never met her, but to hear it on the lips of someone else was wholly terrifying. “I don’t think I’m in a good place for it. I just started therapy to deal with shit, and from what I hear, she just went through a lot thanks to her mom.”

  Soren’s brow furrowed, and he made a few more notes. “She knows the grandparents?”

  “From what I gathered, they took care of her most of the time her mom was either high or on the road,” Miguel said. “She was with my old man for a while, but he died a couple years ago.” It occurred to him then that his old man probably knew about Callie. Had met her, had been in her life, however bad it was for the little girl. And he’d never called.

  “Are you okay?” Soren asked, his voice breaking through Miguel’s swirling thoughts.

  Miguel cleared his throat. “Yeah, no worries. Uh, it’s just a lot of unexpected shit, you know?”

  Soren nodded, then set the pad aside. “I’m not going to sit here and try to convince you to change your mind. If you decided to fight the grandparents for custody, you’d probably win.”

  Miguel’s eyes went wide. “How?”

  “You have a job—it’s not a nine-to-five, but it’s stable. You have a place to live, and you don’t have a record. Not an adult record,” Soren clarified when Miguel opened his mouth to argue. “I’m not advising you do that, though.”

  Miguel let out a rush of air, feeling a strange relief. “I feel like the world’s biggest asshole, abandoning my kid.”

  “You’re not. You’re leaving her in the only stable home she’s ever had. That’s not abandonment, Miguel. That’s putting her needs first.” He sat back, crossing his meaty arms over his chest, and he chewed on his lip. “I think we should try and get some communication going with the grandparents. Letters, emails, phone calls. You want your kid to know you exist, right?”

  He shrugged, because he wasn’t quite sure about that yet. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

  After a beat, Soren leaned on the desk. “I was adopted. Uh. I was a foster kid for a little while, but I got adopted at four by my uncle, who was estranged from the family because he was gay. My family are a bunch of really staunch, conservative Catholics—they didn’t take too well to his coming out. Of course, Jesus didn’t stop my mom’s heroin problem, or my dad’s drinking.”

  Miguel frowned at him, not quite sure where Soren was going with that. “Okay.”

  “My dad got better. Went into AA, cleaned himself up, met someone real nice and married her.” Soren rubbed at his eye, then offered Miguel a sheepish smile. “I have a point, I promise. I was eight by the time he was ready to be a dad. His wife was pregnant, and he had a good job, a nice house. He managed to overturn the adoption, get me back from my uncle, and…hell. There was no reason for me to go off the rails, but I did. I stayed angry, got into trouble, kicked out of school. Started fighting on the streets. My dad blamed my mom for it—the drugs she used. Blamed my uncle for it—saying he was too soft. It took years of therapy to realize why I’d totally lost it.”

  Miguel swallowed thickly. “You missed your uncle.”

  “More than that. My dad loved me, but he took me from the only place I’d ever felt stable. It took years and almost dying for me to reconcile with that old man, and it’s still pretty tense between us. I’m not saying your little girl will feel the same way, but I am saying you need to be sure of what you want. Don’t come in years later and pull her out of a home with people who love her. Just…give her a chance to know you, to make the choice herself.”

  Miguel nodded, because that was what he wanted. He wanted her safe, and healthy, and happy. He could probably give her that, but he wasn’t confident he could give it in the same the way her grandparents could, and it was nice hearing it from someone who had gone through the worst of a situation too much like his.

  “I just don’t want her to hate me,” he confessed in a small voice.

  “All kids hate their parents,” Soren said with a twinkle in his eye like he knew. “But there are different kinds of hate, and I don’t think you’re setting her up to resent ever being born.”

  Miguel bit his lip against asking if that was how Soren felt, then put both hands on the desk. “I want to sign the papers. If they want to let me communicate with her, that would be great. But even if they don’t, I still think it’s best.”

  Soren reached over and turned on his computer. “I can work with that. It won’t take too long— and then it’ll go before the judge.”

  Miguel squirmed uncomfortably. “I told Rowan, but uh…I mean. You know I can’t afford this, right?”

  Soren laughed. “I owe him a huge favor, and he told me this makes us square. Besides, if you really want to throw your hand in, I heard you do some amazing work at the shop, and I’ve been craving some time in the chair.”

  Miguel flushed, because he was good, but he’d never thought of himself as amazing. All the same, the look on Soren’s face seemed to be genuine. “Come by any time. You can look at my portfolio and we can work something out.”

  Soren winked at him, then went back to his computer and got to work.

  Amit felt the strange juxtaposition between relief that he could be himself at home, and the aching empty feeling that it was over between him and Miguel. He’d sent two texts to the other man, both of them unread which meant there was every chance his number had been blocked and he was being frozen out.

  It also meant losing the guys at the shop, because he sure as he
ll wouldn’t be asking them to choose. But not being able to explain was killing him. It was why he found himself sitting on the little bench waiting for a stack of pizza he planned to take home and eat all on his own. Or at the very least, with Nick and Eddie, who wouldn’t let him wallow too long in his own misery.

  What he really wanted was to lean against the wall and close his eyes until his number was up, but he couldn’t. After his talk with his sister, Amit had tucked his hearing aids away and decided to spend the next few days just letting himself be deaf. He could hear if a car horn was blaring at him, or if a police siren was trying to signal, and that was enough. He needed to let himself feel authentic, even if he hadn’t touched his makeup, or nail polish, or the new skirt he had in the drawer that still had the tags attached.

  He watched as all the pubescent teens bustled around the pizza kitchen like angry ants, swarming to get all the orders filled, and he was so distracted he didn’t notice a person claiming the seat beside him until an elbow dug into his side. His head turned, and his eyes widened when he saw Basil offer him a faint, tense smile.

  ‘Hi,’ Amit offered.

  Basil’s brows lifted in a little surprise. ‘Derek’s here.’ He jutted his chin to the soda fountain where the taller man was filling up two cups, pointedly not looking over.

  ‘He’s pissed,’ Amit replied after taking in Derek’s expression.

  Basil’s shoulders lifted and fell with his laugh. ‘They’re all pretty pissed. He told me not to come over here, but I needed to talk to you. I just want to know why. Miguel liked you.’

  Amit felt his gut twist. ‘It’s not what it looked like.’

  ‘So, it wasn’t a date?’ Basil challenged.

  Amit’s gaze darted over to Derek where he was leaning against the counter, very clearly watching the conversation. It was probably better that way, he knew. And at least he had this chance. ‘I can’t really go into detail. It was a date. Sort of. But I didn’t have a choice.’

  Basil gave him a disbelieving look, then lifted his hand and spelled S E X across his forehead.

  Amit flushed. ‘I’m not…no, it wasn’t about sex. She’s eighteen.’

  At that, Basil looked a little green. ‘She’s a teenager?’

  Amit looked around, knowing that the likelihood of anyone in the shop knowing enough ASL to follow along was slim, but he was still worried about it. Elizabeth had just slipped her parents, had just left town, and he was waiting for the backlash. ‘Can you meet me outside after this? Both of you. I’ll tell you everything. She and I are not dating, we’re not fucking.’

  He looked at Derek who was still glaring, but he also looked curious enough that he’d give Amit a chance. Basil waved at him, and Amit turned his attention back. ‘Five minutes.’

  Amit nodded, then looked back to Derek who reluctantly raised a hand. ‘They called your food.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Amit signed, then got up to collect his boxes and bags. He didn’t look back, and he didn’t wait for the pair to follow, instead heading for his car to put everything inside. They weren’t behind him, and he was grateful for the reprieve considering this would probably make or break his relationship with everyone at the shop. He didn’t think they’d be angry about what he’d done—and why—but they’d be furious at the way he’d hurt Miguel, and he couldn’t blame them.

  The pair emerged a few minutes later, and he waited as Derek threw their stuff into Basil’s car before walking over. Amit had steeled himself to explain as fast as his hands would let him, and he wanted to do it before Derek’s temper got the best of him.

  ‘This man contacted my mother some months ago wanting to arrange a marriage for his daughter. She’s Pakistani—adopted, they’re a white couple. After a couple conversations, it became obvious he was trying to sell her to the highest bidder. He thought dowry was something the bride’s family got paid.”

  Derek’s eyes went wide, then his face morphed into fury. ‘You bought her?’

  Basil smacked him for that. ‘Obviously not,’ his fiancé signed.

  Derek looked a little sheepish. ‘So, what the hell?’

  ‘My mom asked me to play along. My auntie has a safe house set up for her, but we had to wait until she turned eighteen. The night I ran into Tony was her birthday, and I was taking her out before she took off.’ Amit swiped his hands on his jeans, trying to rid himself of his nervous sweat. ‘I couldn’t explain then. I didn’t want anyone listening in and telling her dad.’

  ‘That’s sick,’ Derek signed.

  Amit nodded miserably. ‘There are sick people out there, and I was just trying to help. I tried to get a hold of Miguel, but he’s not answering my texts.’

  Derek and Basil exchanged a look which Amit didn’t like, then Derek shrugged. ‘He’s going through a lot right now, but it’s good. Some of it’s good,’ he amended. ‘He’s in therapy. When Tony told him you were with someone else, that fucked him up, but he was already halfway there.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Basil cut in, giving a pointed look to Derek. ‘Miguel needed help, not a relationship.’

  Amit swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to shove his hands into his pockets and take off the other direction. ‘For what it’s worth, I was falling in love with him. I still am. I’d wait. I will wait,’ he clarified.

  Derek looked at him a long moment—long enough for Amit to feel uncomfortable, then he nodded. ‘I don’t think I’ll tell him everything yet, but I’ll tell him enough that he knows it was a misunderstanding.’

  Amit nodded. ‘I can deal with that.’

  ‘I think he loves you too,’ Basil added, and Amit hated how much that made his heart start pounding against his ribs. He hated how much it made him want, because holding back and waiting felt like it might kill him. ‘It’ll be worth it.’

  ‘I know,’ Amit said, because he did. He took a step back, but before he could turn, Derek’s large hands gathered him close and hugged him tight. Amit felt a small noise escape him, and he was a little embarrassed, but he didn’t hate the fond look Derek gave him when he finally pulled away.

  ‘Next time, come to the shop and tell us,’ Derek chastised.

  Amit shrugged. ‘James told me they were too busy to see me.’

  Rolling his eyes, Derek scoffed. ‘James is a dramatic asshole. You’ll always be welcome, he’s just protective. It’ll be better.’ He squeezed Amit’s shoulder. ‘Come by this week and I’ll work on your ribs a little more. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Amit answered, and for the first time since Miguel left, he felt lighter.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Miguel came to an almost stumbling halt when he pushed the café door open and walked right into Soren’s chest. The other man was leaning on his cane, but Miguel caught him before he toppled into the street.

  “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

  Soren laughed, brushing him off as he braced himself on the cane. “No worries. It happens a lot.”

  Miguel felt guilt punch at his chest anyway, but he stepped off to the side. “Still. Sorry.”

  Soren gave him an appraising look, then glanced down the street. “In a hurry?”

  He wasn’t. He was actively avoiding anywhere Amit might be, because he wasn’t quite sure how to handle everything he knew just yet.

  “I’m going to take your pointed silence as a no, and I’m going to ask if you want to come with me.”

  Miguel blinked at him. “Uh. Where?”

  “Anywhere,” Soren said. “It’s the first decent day we’ve had in a while, and the last time we talked it was about kid stuff.”

  That was also the truth. He and Soren seemed to have a decent working relationship, but it revolved around Callie’s case. It was going well, which helped the situation. Callie’s grandparents were happy to let him have some contact, and they were all just waiting for the hearing to make the adoption final, which would be months from then.

  It was one worry off Miguel’s plate, but oddly it didn’t make him feel any b
etter. “Well, I’m done for the day so…” He shrugged, holding up his chai. “Lead the way?”

  Soren laughed, then started toward the bend in the street which led to their little downtown area. Miguel appreciated Soren’s gait only because it allowed him to manage his own limp without feeling bad for slowing people down.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Soren asked. His gaze was fixed on the park ahead, and Miguel didn’t hate the idea of walking somewhere soft.

  “Talk about what?”

  Soren laughed as they waited for the light to change. “About whatever the fuck has you making that face. You’re a pretty man, Miguel. You should smile more.”

  Miguel’s jaw dropped until he realized Soren was being sarcastic. “Relationship shit,” he finally said. Soren wasn’t exactly a friend, but he realized he could be one. Maybe after the case was closed, and shit settled down. “I uh…there was this guy, and it was good, and then it got bad real quick.”

  Soren snorted, rolling his eyes up toward the sky as they made their way to the soft, frosty grass. “Story of my life.” Miguel watched as Soren absently stroked a name on his forearm, but he moved to too quick for Miguel to see it. “Ex-husband, custody issues,” he explained when Soren saw where Miguel’s gaze had landed.

  With a wince, Miguel shook his head. “Sorry. I guess cases like these fuck you up more than they help.”

  Soren glanced around at the park, then leaned against the little gate and propped his cane against his hip. “Not always. It makes me feel better that I can help some people, even if I can’t help myself. Your shit isn’t because of your kid, is it?”

  Miguel shook his head, a restless feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I…can we walk? I mean if you’re sore…”

  Soren waved him off. “I have a spine injury, but it doesn’t hurt, just makes me slow as fuck.”

  “Oh. Shit. Well we can…”

  “We can walk,” Soren interrupted with a wink. “My doctor would be pissed if I turned down the chance for more exercise. Anyway, young Padawan, tell me about this problem.”