Loving You Forever (Battle Born MC Book 7)

by Scarlett Black

  “Good. With the report filed at the prison with the guards trying to beat a confession out of Pawn and now this, on top of the dirty cops who arrested him, it should be enough to get him out early.”

  For once, the dust is settling, and maybe, just maybe, I can get some time and head over to Sacramento to check on my own business.

  Chapter 9

  Tami

  For the past few months, I thought a lot about what Jenn had said to me on that day outside the bar. Something sprouted and took root in me. Something that I can’t even tell you how or explain. But it wouldn’t stop. I had first become addicted to typing my feelings in the laptop. It was just a journal to vent out every single fear and ache. I still write letters to Solo sometimes, but then, I started writing a short story.

  That has grown into a bigger dream, and I love the book that I started putting on paper, so to speak. I have no idea if it is any good or not. Or, if anyone will ever even want to read it, but it feels like I can make us, Solo and I, real. The first few chapters are about how we met. I even included Pawn and the story of the three of us. Every page after that is a wish or a dream we had together. I’ve gotten into the habit of staying up late, learning how to put this out into the world. I’m not sure that I ever will, but who knows, maybe someday?

  By expressing my feelings through the story, I released a lot of pent-up emotions. It was a safe place to do so. What I didn’t expect to find is how much I was thinking about Pawn in the story. The hurt and anger I was harboring there. For months now, I have pretended he didn’t exist because it was easier. I’m still not fully able to focus on that. Maybe sometime in the future, because I have time before he is out. He has refused to speak to me and that hurt so much more than I realized. I’m angry that he doesn’t at least want to know about Cash. But I push all that to the side for me. I need me to be happy.

  Getting back on my feet has been a battle. Being at the bar and around other people has helped to pull me out of the coma I lived in. I’ve started to enjoy going in and laughing again. I don’t mind the work at the bar, and I am grateful that I have had that, especially when I desperately needed it.

  Walking around the house, I pick up Cash’s toys that are scattered all over. He is so close to walking now, and every day is an adventure I can’t wait to discover with him. I dump his toys in a small laundry hamper in the living room and notice a pack of Solo’s cigarettes sitting on the end table.

  At first, I never moved them because I didn’t want to touch anything, needing it to be the way he had left it. But now I have to. Small steps, I remind myself.

  My hand shakes a little as I bend over and pick up the pack. I flip the lid open, breathing the familiar smell in, then decide to take them outside. By the backdoor hangs a flannel of his and I pull it on over my arms.

  The inside of the chest pocket feels heavy. I reach inside only to pull out a lighter, and I stare out for a moment. One night springs to life in my head and I remember every second of it. We had a fight. It was our last one. I remember how stupid it was and how mad I was at him. He had left his clothes on the floor again and couldn’t seem to remember to put them in the hamper. Which was not even two feet away. I yelled at him from the bedroom while I stuffed them inside. Solo came barging in, annoyed and pissed off at me for it. He started tossing the clothes from the hamper back onto the floor then he growled at me to leave him the hell alone.

  Earlier that day, he had gone to visit Pawn and I suspect that he had a bad day. We were on each other’s nerves which didn’t seem normal for us. After he was done, he grabbed this shirt off the chair and come outside to smoke. I teared up in frustration and felt sorry for myself before realizing what could have been going on with him.

  I walked outside and wrapped my arms around his body from behind, resting my cheek against his back. Instantly, his muscles relaxed, and his shoulders lowered. He tugged me around from behind him and hugged me with one arm. I kissed his lips and whispered my apology. He did the same.

  We never talked about what had happened on that day. But I stayed with him and waited. He turned me around at the banister of the deck, keeping one arm slung across my chest, with his hand resting on my shoulder. That night we made love for hours and laughed together, forgetting all about the dirty clothes on the floor.

  I blink, pulling myself from the frozen state where I am in remembering all these details. My hand grips the door and I go outside. I light a cigarette and stand in the same spot we did then. I try to inhale the smoke, but I start coughing, never having tried it before. Mostly I puff on it just enough to keep it lit, flicking the ashes away. I get the hang of it after a few small inhales, then put it out.

  Tucking the lighter inside the pack which I then place back inside the shirt pocket, I walk back inside and hang the flannel where I found it a little bit ago. With a little more courage, I walk into our bedroom and pick up his dirty clothes and take them, along with the hamper, to load the washing machine.

  Solo died the next day at the clubhouse, after our fight. Always, I will embrace every single memory of him. If only, we had more time to share these together.

  Letting go of the people you love is nearly impossible, but it is never goodbye forever. The love never dies and that never fades.

  Chapter 10

  Pawn

  My release from the State Pen was sudden and unexpected. I was pulled from my cell and given my old clothes to change into. In a rush, I grab the few personal items I have and then I am directed across the building. This came as a shock to me. It almost felt a little like a jail break and a lot too easy. The guard wouldn’t tell me anything while walking me through the hallways as he didn’t have a clue either. My mind was spinning in confusion and I felt they were setting me up.

  Tap it down. I keep telling myself over and over. I spent most of my life taking care of myself and trusting no one, until the MC. But here I am, alone, and I have no backup. My eyes dart around looking for anyone who wants to hurt me. A sweat breaks out over my skin.

  The guard ushered me inside an unknown office and slammed the door shut behind me. Inside, I met with the club lawyer and the same judge that had sentenced me. I was briefed quickly by my lawyer that I was going home today.

  Home.

  As soon as those words left his mouth, I froze. The world stopped spinning and all I could hear was an echo of voices in the distance. My heart stopped beating and the panic of the realization paralyzed me down to my core.

  I had set my mind into believing that I would have at least six more months in here. Today, I am leaving. Right this moment, I am walking out as a free man. What the hell am I going to do? I don’t have a home. I have a room at the clubhouse. Is that where I am going to go? And fucking shit, it scares the hell out of me to go see my son, Cash. I’m not father material. Suddenly, I want to run, like old times.

  “Pawn,” the lawyer calls. “You’ve got to sign to get out.” His face is full of humor because he clearly sees the shock written across mine. Taking the pen from his stretched hand and glancing down at the papers, I see there is a line with my name on it. Eric Anderson. My hand trembles while I scribble my signature across the crisp white legal pages.

  He slaps my shoulder and the judge gives me his parting words of advice, “Stay out of trouble. Find your purpose out there, Mr. Anderson. I don’t want to see you back in here again.”

  I nod my head and manage to shake his hand, my words lost. I can’t form a response even if I could think of the appropriate thing to say. Before I know it, I am led out the side door of the prison, through the staff entrance. I’m about to ask where my ride is when I spot Tank standing in the alley next to two bikes. The lawyer gives me a salute and leaves in his expensive black car.

  “We figured you weren’t ready for everyone to be here.” Tank steps around from his bike, noticing that I’m still in shock and gives me a backslap before handing me my keys. “Let’s take a ride and let this all sink in a bit?”

  “Y
eah.” My body moves on autopilot and I shove the contents from my hands in my saddle bag. Like an old habit I swing a leg over the seat and sit atop my bike and my feet plant as I push it up to balance on the tires. My hands grip the rubber handles and I take my time feeling it all. My mind races at where this is going next. The emotions explode in my chest. But this time the prison is in my head. The anger, hatred, and guilt want out, but how do I do that?

  Tank cranks over his bike distracting me from my fucked-up state. I concentrate on what I can, my old bike. The heavy weight of the machine, the smell of gas, oil and leather all comes back to me like home-sweet-home.

  My heart is hammering in my chest when I crank the engine on, and the vibrations roam freely through my veins. Freedom to hit the road and to choose a direction is calling to me. Never again will I ever take this life for granted.

  Tank howls like the Road Dog he is, flips off the State Penn and laughs at a few guards in the yard on our way out, like the real fuckin’ maniac that he is.

  We don’t stop. We drive for hours, exploring every road within the area, and find some new ones. I’m about to signal for us to stop but he beats me to it, taking the off ramp from the freeway. We drive around what I first thought was a park but turns out to be a cemetery.

  My head spins when we park and Tank nods for me to follow him. We find Solo’s grave and the world has lost its meaning for words from me once again, as I look down to where my friend lies peacefully.

  “Pawn, a lot has happened, brother,” Tank sighs and quietly keeps talking with a shallow rasp. “We need you to come back to us. There is a lot you need to work through in your head. Take your time and sort that out. Come back to us stronger, fighting. Cash, he’s gonna need you at your best.”

  I’ve never in my life hugged another man, and it’s hard for me to show Tank what I am feeling, but I do. I give my brother a hug.

  “I want that, Tank. There’s a lot I need to get straight. I want to be a good dad for Cash.”

  He slaps my back and pulls back, “He’ll be waiting for you, just don’t take too long, yeah? Work out a piece at a time. You know who to come to if you need help.”

  “Kat?” I poke at my friend.

  He chuckles, “Are you kidding me? She’s only good at plotting and killing. That woman is ice cold.” He jokes, but we both know it’s far from the truth. “Make your peace, brother.” His gaze goes from me to the tombstone. “Here are the keys to the peace-out cabin.” Tank hands me a set of keys and a piece of paper with the address before he starts walking away. “Don’t take too long.”

  “Peace out?” I holler after him.

  He turns around, walking backwards, “Where there is peace and quiet and you can hear yourself think. The peace-out cabin aka peace out, I’m leaving the world for a couple of days.” Tank flips me the peace sign and I watch him as I’m being left alone. His three-piece patch is fully on display and it hits me right in the heart. My brothers, the Battle Born MC.

  At first, I feel a little tongue tied and awkward before I find something buried away to say. Letting go of a breath, I turn back to face the reality of where my best friend is now and will the courage to speak up. “To say I never saw this coming is an understatement. I would take back that shit I said to you the last time we spoke if I could. I’m full of hate, Solo, and it’s not your fault or anyone else’s. Fuck dude, I do hate you for taking her from me. Taking my kid as your own. I’m pissed you were the better choice and better for them. And now I am stuck in this abyss of what the fuck do I do now? You would know though. You would go running in like a prince and make it all better. I’m not you brother and never will be.”

  My body grows tired and I slump down in the grass to rest my back against the headstone. My forearms resting on my knees. “I’ve been fucked up for a long time. I need to figure out how to move past that, to be a good father to Cash. A part of me was relieved that he had you and Tami too, even though I hated it at the same time. Truth is, I wanted to be you, because you would have been a great dad, and I hated you for it. That’s why I was such a dick. I knew that when I got out, I could be a part-time parent and those old habits would be okay because you would cover for me like you always did when I fucked shit up.”

  A humorless chuckle rattles its way out, “Again I was counting on you to be there before you even had to. I bet you knew it too, and was ready to protect them from me. You were more of a friend and man than I ever was before. And now? Now, I am scared shitless that I will be a piece of shit father, like mine has been.”

  A blackbird lands a few yards ahead of me and the meaning is striking. Can Solo be guiding me even from the grave? Coming back into my life, reminding me to make the choices in my life that are right?

  “I will try, Solo.”

  I’m not a fool to believe that this will be easy, starting over, but I want to try. What that means, I have no idea. I need time to figure this out alone. There is too much out there that can distract me. I want nothing more than to smoke and get high this very minute. I would do it, sitting atop my friend’s grave because I am that man. The one that says fuck it, light it up and let the drugs take over. I don’t want to be, but can I beat the past that wants to drag me down? It is much easier to do nothing because doing something is admitting the truth. I am not the piece of shit that was beaten into me to believe. If I choose to believe I am not, then I have to face the facts, that all along I blamed my problems on my father and wasted my life.

  The complicated part is that I am me and I am stuck between the old me and the new me. I don’t know who this man really is. At some point, I have to be strong enough to be a better man than I was before.

  Can I choose the road I have never traveled and be stronger for it?

  Chapter 11

  Tami

  From the outside looking in, I can see Amanda, my friend who was taken all those years ago. She seems to be doing okay. She has a nice job as an assistant at an advertising firm in Sacramento now. A while back, Solo gave me a folder, on my birthday, with her information in it. He was right, or knew, that I would want to see her.

  Emilia agreed to watch Cash for me for a few days. It took some convincing that I needed to check on an old friend. Eventually, she gave in and it made me doubt my decision. Was I making the right decision? In the end I told myself, yes, I needed to heal that piece of me and, at the same time, show the universe that Solo was buried in my heart. He knew the barest of me and knew that I needed to tell her how I felt one day.

  My palms feel clammy as I’m watching her. She’s beautiful with her dark brunette hair and red lipstick. I push forward and walk through the door just moments before closing time. She shuffles things around on her desk, then looks up, surprise replacing her easy-going nature and her smile drops off her face.

  “Hey, it’s me.” I try to pull off a breezy greeting but, let’s face it, I can’t. “Would you like to grab a drink or dinner? I would like to talk with you.” It is hard to see her after all this time, but I forced myself to see this through.

  Her hands smooth down her blazer and her customer mask takes over, “I would love to.” She looks over to the door hesitantly, then back to me.

  I jab my thumb up over my shoulder, “There is that bistro on the corner. I’ll grab a table and see you in about fifteen?”

  She politely agrees and I wave goodbye on my way out, not entirely sure that she will even show. But that is okay with me because I made it this far. With each step, my spine straightens, and my head comes up. The busy street and life don’t intimidate me like they used to. It seems, lately, the whole world has more color and grows more vibrant with each day that passes. I push away the doubt of her reaction to me. I just caught her off guard is all.

  I find us a small table by the window, with tall chairs, and I sink into one. I order two waters with lemon and wait. Watching the street, business people hurriedly walk past with their briefcases and purses.

  Some men loosen their ties or remove their he
avy suit jackets. I’m not left waiting too long before I see Amanda walking toward the doorway and finding me quickly. She seems to be in a hurry with her quick strides. Amanda pulls out her chair and sits across from me.

  “Excuse me,” she starts, “I- ah- was just so surprised to see you standing there that I was speechless.”

  I wave her concern away, “I bring a lot of the past with me. I understand. Would you like to order anything?” I ask, because I need to know how long I have to say what I need.

  “A real drink would be great.” She grabs a hold of her ice water, her fingers clench around the glass. Amanda’s tension permeates the space and I quickly flag over the waitress. Promptly taking Amanda’s cocktail order.

  “I’m not going to waste your time. I’ll get to the point. I am so very sorry for what happened before. I regret that I wasn’t there for you right afterward, and I carry that with me every day.” Hard words are said, because these words bring back memories, I am certain, that she never wants to relive again.

  Her eyes narrow in with every word spoken. “We were kids, Tami. That’s not your fault. I was eventually okay. There was a woman who helped us. She got me set up with this survivor’s foundation. She made sure that I was okay.” Amanda crosses her arms over her chest. “If this is all you came for, you didn’t need to.”

  My mind circles around to what I have been told. The MC funded her counseling, healthcare and also helped her get into an apartment. She doesn’t know that, and Kat is the woman she is speaking about, the one who helped her. The waitress drops off her vodka tonic and Amanda takes a long drink before sitting it down.

  “I’m happy you got the things you needed. I just really wanted you to know that I cared. I wanted to see for my own eyes that you were okay.”

  Amanda’s left hand comes up to hold the glass and I catch the engagement ring on her finger. “That’s beautiful.”