by Avelyn Paige
I take her hand in mine. “Is that normal?”
She gazes off into the distance, looking at nothing. “Nope.”
“So you grew up in foster homes?”
“More than I care to count,” she says sadly. “All over the state too. I never stayed in one place long enough to get settled.”
“But they were good to you, right? I mean, not all foster homes are bad. And they’re screened by DFPS.”
“I had one good one, Mrs. Rosenburg. She was a retired school teacher. Her husband had passed away a couple of years before she’d taken me in. She was really nice. An excellent cook too.”
Though she’s right beside me, her voice may as well be a thousand miles away. “You don’t have to talk about this, darlin’.”
“No.” Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she meets my gaze. “Sorry. When I talk about that, I get so lost in the memories. Mrs. Rosenburg always had a batch of freshly baked cookies on the counter when I got home from school each day. But whenever I try to remember the good things, it’s always squashed by one other memory. I guess this time is no different.”
Digging her fingers into her knees, she takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “She had a heart attack while I was at school. I found her on the kitchen floor. The cookies were burning in the oven, and it was too late to save her.”
“Jesus.”
“It devastated me when I found her. I didn’t even care when they sent me off to another place—a group home that time.”
“You’ve had it rough.”
“I have, but others have had it far, far worse. I was lucky enough to come out okay in the end.”
I give her shoulder a playful shove. “Says you.”
Sticking out her tongue at me, she huffs, “Bite me, biker. Now it’s your turn. What’s your story?”
I groan. I hadn’t expected to spill my guts tonight. “I’m not that interesting.”
“Baloney. Tell me how Eugene Grant came to be such an incredible man and father figure.” She waves her hand around, indicating the rest of the common room. “Not just to those kids, either. These men look to you like a father too.”
I rarely share the details of my past. In fact, I’ve spoken my truth a grand total of two times in my life. This will be the third.
“It’s not pretty,” I warn her.
“Yeah, and mine was all sunshine and rainbows,” she quips. Her words are sarcastic, but she moves to place her hand in mine, somehow able to tell this is going to be hard on me.
“I married my high school sweetheart.” Her eyes widen. “It was no great love or anything. To be honest, I don’t even know why we got married in the first place. We cared about each other, spent a lot of time together. When we graduated high school, I was prospecting with the club, and she wanted to tie me to her forever.”
I note her disapproving frown, but I don’t stop. I need to get this out.
“It was stupid. We fought all the time. We had no money, and she was always off drinking with friends and getting her hair done.” Now the hard part. “And then she had Shane.”
Her body jolts, her mouth opening to speak, but I raise my hand to stop her.
“Just let me get this out,” I tell her. “Shane was the sweetest baby. When he came along, I vowed to work harder to save my marriage. I was going to be the best father in the entire world.”
“What happened?”
“He died.” Looking down, I examine my fingernails, not really seeing them. “I was just a prospect back then and was out on a run. When I came home…” I pause, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. The pain is as great today as it was nearly thirty years ago. “She’d already buried him, said she didn’t know how to get a hold of me.”
Gaping at me, she covers her mouth and whispers, “How did he pass away?”
I shrug. “SIDS. She never gave me an explanation other than that. I tried to find out where he was buried, but every time I asked, she would scream and rant at me about leaving them alone in the first place. She left a month later, and the last I heard, she’d died of an overdose, which wasn’t too long ago.”
Her mouth opens and closes, and she finally says, “Wow,” seeming at a loss for words.
“Yeah. Wow.”
We’re both silent for a few moments, which is strange in itself since everyone else in the room is drinking and laughing, and having a great time. But it’s like we’re alone here. In a bubble. A bubble of confessions, sadness, and acceptance.
Acceptance is a new one for me. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced acceptance.
Rubbing my hand, she says with sincerity, “I’m sorry about your son, Eugene.”
I blow out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
Her lips graze mine for a fraction of a second. “Thank you for telling me about Shane.”
Hearing his name said out loud is like a tiny stitch in the gaping wound left from his passing. That wound has never healed, and I’ve never spoken about it. Maybe that’s why it still hurts, like it just happened yesterday.
Leaning over, I press my lips against her forehead, thankful for her and the way things have worked out.
When I’d first met Grace, I thought she would be my biggest nightmare, but it’s starting to look like she may just be my salvation instead.
Grace
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
That’s all my phone has been doing since I called off work again. If it’s not Eric, it’s Aaron, one right after another. It’s like the two of them are in constant communication about my whereabouts now. Eric, I can understand, as I never call off work. Ever. I’ve worked with my head in a trash can after getting food poisoning before, so calling off multiple days in a row is out of the ordinary for me. I know I’ll have to come up with some plausible reason for being out so many days soon, or he’ll send out for a wellness check on me.
Aaron calls again, and I send him straight to voicemail. The fourteenth voicemail notification this morning pops up on the screen. I swipe it away to ignore it. Take the hint, buddy. I’m busy.
Setting my phone down on the table, I watch as Eugene works with Kevin on some math problems his school sent over at the kitchen table. How he convinced them that the kids were very ill and would likely be out for a few weeks, I’ll never know. But whatever he did, the teachers sent homework every day to their school email accounts.
Catching me watching them, he pats his big hand on top of the table and winks back at me. My face flushes instantly at his reminder of what we did on that very table just a few nights ago. Seeing this, his smile only gets bigger.
I roll my eyes at his distance flirting and return to helping Natalie with her reading. She sits calmly next to me, reading aloud from a chapter book she had brought home from school. She sounds out each word carefully, but stops every few sentences to ask me for help. She has a lot of catching up to do. Thanks to her uncle, she’s academically stunted, and it isn’t going to be easy to get her where she should be. Until things get settled, though, Eugene and I are doing what we can to help them both.
The crunch of a vehicle pulling up to the front of the house draws my attention. Pushing aside the sheer curtain behind me, I watch as a black sedan with dark windows park directly behind Eugene’s motorcycle.
“Eugene,” I call out. “Someone’s here.”
Pushing away from the table, he takes long strides into the living room. Not quite running, but definitely in a hurry. He peers through the curtain.
“Kevin,” he snaps. “Take your sister and do what I told you to do when we talked.”
My heart sinks to my feet. “What’s going on?”
“Police,” he bites out. “Kevin. Move, son.”
Running into the room, he grabs Natalie by the arm and tugs. “Come on. You need to come with me.”
“I don’t want to leave,” she cries, shoving Kevin away. “I want to stay with you.”
Eugene sighs. “Nat, go. Now. And stay with Kevin. I’ll come get
you when it’s safe.” Setting her book down on the table, she follows her brother to the back of the house.
My heart thumps in my ears as I hear heavy footsteps trudging up the front sidewalk, and then a loud pounding rattles the door. Eugene’s hand slips to the back of his jeans, resting on a handgun tucked into the back of them. Shifting off of the couch, I stand behind him.
“Open up! I know she’s in there,” Aaron’s voice booms from the other side of the door.
Oh my God. If I could crawl into a gaping hole in the ground, I would. An angry heat sets me on fire from the inside out as I step around Eugene and put myself between him and the door. Between him, his gun, and Aaron.
My hand trembles as I reach for the knob. Eugene’s hand comes down hard on top of mine, stopping me.
“I can hear you on the other side of the door, motherfucker. I swear to God, if you’re holding her there, I’ll personally haul your ass to jail. Open up!” He pounds so hard, the photo hanging on the wall near the door crashes to the floor, sending shattered glass around my feet.
“He won’t leave if I don’t talk to him,” I whisper. “Please, let me take care of this.”
The stubborn man doesn’t budge, a tiny vein in his forehead visibly throbbing.
“Please, Eugene,” I beg him. “He won’t go away until he sees me. Stay inside, I beg you.”
I brush away his hand, and this time, he allows it. When he steps back, I turn the knob and pull the door open. Aaron’s dark eyes are filled with fiery anger, but flash with relief when he sees me. Stepping out, I quickly yank the door behind me closed, leaving Eugene safely inside.
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
I try to keep my cool. If Aaron knew what lies on the other side of the door, he’ll bust in there after him and take the kids out of spite. I have to talk him down. Taking a gigantic step toward me, I back up against the door. I can almost feel the heat radiating off of Eugene from the other side as Aaron’s gaze trails up and down my body, looking for some sign that I’m being held against my will.
“How did you find me?”
Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he waves it in front of me. I look at, confused. Hashtag had turned off my GPS, so that shouldn’t be possible.
“I pinged your phone, and after I searched your apartment, I found this address written on a pad of paper.”
“Wait a second. You broke into my apartment?” I bellow. “How dare you!”
“Wellness check,” he snaps. “Your super let me in. I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d answered your fucking phone.”
A coil of anger unfurls inside of me. It wasn’t a wellness check. He intruded into my private space and abused his power to do it. The nerve of him.
“So what?” I snarl, throwing my arms wide. “You’re stalking me now? I’m allowed to have a life, Aaron. One where I do not need to inform you of my every move. You’re crossing a line right now. You need to leave.”
“I know whose house this is, Grace. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Why don’t you step aside and let me take care of him so you can go back to your life?”
He tries to sidestep me, but I stay put. He’s not going into that house. I won’t allow it.
“What exactly do you think you know about my life?”
His eyes narrow. “Enough to know that this case is clouding your judgment, and that you need a healthy dose of reality to help you realize you’re in danger.”
Oh, this ought to be good. “Explain to me, how I’m in danger?”
He tips his head at the door. “That man will get you killed, Grace.”
“He’s protected me more than you ever could have.”
“How? He’s the bad guy in this, not me.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong. That man has protected me and those kids.”
Aaron’s face stills. “That’s twice you’ve said that. How has he protected you?”
Folding my arms across my chest, I let him have it. “Their father tried to take me hostage a few days ago at the coffee shop next to the office. Eugene scared him off. If he hadn’t, there’s no telling what that man would’ve done to me. He’s a junkie, and he’s dangerous. I probably wouldn’t be standing here right now yelling at you if it weren’t for Eugene.”
“Oh, come on. That doesn’t change who he is or what he’s capable of.”
“Let me tell you who Eugene Grant really is. He’s a hard-ass of a man who loves those kids more than anyone on this planet could. If it weren’t for him, Natalie would’ve been sold into a sex trafficking ring. Kevin would have turned out just like their uncle who forced them both into it. If he and his club hadn’t stepped in, neither one of those kids would be in one piece right now. He saved them. He’s protected them. If that’s not the definition of what a father should be, then I’ve failed as a social worker.”
He takes a step back. “You knew all this, and you didn’t bring it to me? I could have fucking helped you, Grace.”
“No, you couldn’t have. Only the Black Hoods could help me.”
Aaron blinks once, twice. “What exactly can they give you that I can’t?”
“Safety,” I reply. “The ability to do what I need to do to protect these kids.”
“You’re breaking the law.”
I laugh, without an ounce of humor. “The law is already broken. It has been for a really long time.” Everything I’ve held back from him the last few years continues to flow out of me like a raging river after a heavy spring storm. “I’ve watched family after family being torn apart. For once, I want to keep this one together. They can protect them.”
Aaron’s nostrils flare. “They’re not his to protect.” Spittle flies from his mouth as he raises his voice. I’ve never heard him yell before, but somehow, I’m not surprised he has such a short fuse. “And neither are you.”
“That’s for me to decide, not you.”
What happens next, happens so fast, I don’t have time to register it.
Aaron’s fist rockets toward me, dangerously close to my face, but only the breeze from its power caresses my cheek before landing against the door behind me.
His eyes fall closed when he realizes what he’s done. “Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
I feel the support of the door fall away and land against Eugene’s body, shaking with rage. “I will fucking rip your head off and shit down your neck,” he growls.
Aaron’s eyes grow wide.
“No!” I cry, turning to face Eugene. Placing my hands on his chest, I stare deep into his eyes, searching through the fiery anger for some form of reasoning. “Don’t. I’m okay.”
Eugene’s skin is burning beneath my palms, and for a fraction of a second, I fear he won’t listen to me. Finally, he looks at me, inspecting me for himself, his hand moving possessively over my skin in front of Aaron. He’s staking his claim without having to say the words. “I’m okay,” I promise. “He didn’t hit me. He hit the door.”
“Real fucking men don’t even do that,” he growls. “Do you hear me, asshole? What you just did is the next worst fucking thing to hitting a woman. Scaring her and making her think you’re going to is a coward’s move.”
Aaron doesn’t reply. I turn to face him, but Eugene’s arms wrap tight around my waist.
“You need to leave.”
His voice is deflated now. Weak. “Grace, I came here for you.”
“And you’re leaving without her,” Eugene snarls from behind me. Aaron takes a step back, but hesitates to move any farther.
“Why him? Why couldn’t I be that man for you? I tried to be, but you never let me in. I fucking love you, Grace.”
“I don’t love you, and I never will. You just didn’t want to accept that. No matter how hard you push I’m never going to feel that way about you.”
“But you can love him? A criminal.”
“I care about him, yes, and his past doesn’t m
atter to me. Only the future and these kids matter now.”
His eyes glass over with sadness as he looks between us. “Take care of her.” Turning, he walks away from us and back to his car. Lingering just inside his open car door, he slides in behind the wheel and drives away, and out of my life.
Judge
Her fingers dig into my hair as her hips roll. “God, please, don’t stop.”
Oh, there’s no way in hell I’m stopping.
Dragging my tongue between her folds, I press a soft kiss to the sensitive pearl nestled deep within, making her moan. Fuck me, she’s incredible.
Using my lips, I pull her clit this way and that, flicking it gently with my tongue, reveling in her taste. I could live right here, between her legs, feasting on the buffet that’s her perfect fucking body.
Her thighs tremble and her moans get louder, and finally, I can’t take it anymore.
Standing at the end of the bed, I pull her to me, raising her feet high in the air, and enter her hard. She’s so fucking tight. I thrust faster, loving the way her breasts bounce, her nipples tight and swollen from my earlier kisses.
Grace’s eyes are locked on mine, her face twisted with a pleasure that mirrors my own.
“Fuck,” I bite out, not sure how much more I can take. I’ve always considered myself to have pretty great stamina, but with Grace... fuck, the woman undoes me. Sex with her makes me feel like a sixteen-year-old boy, for fuck’s sake.
A deafening crash, followed by the sound of shattered glass hitting the ceramic tile, rips us from our moment. Our heads whip toward the bedroom door in shock.
“What was that?” Grace whispers, her eyes wide with fear. I’m already on the move.
Yanking my jeans on, I move to the door with my gun in hand before Grace even has a chance to pull my T-shirt over her head.
“Stay here,” I tell her, but I’m already focused on the sounds that aren’t yet coming from the front hall.
And then I hear it. A heavy boot crunching down on the broken glass as somebody enters my house.