“A bar. They offer fruity cocktails without the booze. All the sugar, none of the alcohol.”
Smiling, I imagine myself out with Jack at a bar. He danced with me at the honkytonk. Not well, but I loved the way his hands couldn’t stay off me. I wouldn’t mind a repeat of our fun.
“I have a weird question,” I whisper, moving closer, so we’re sitting on the same couch in the family room. “A private question.”
Soso’s dark eyes widen. “What is it?”
“Is sex comfortable when we’re this far along? Or even further? My ex never wanted to touch me when I was very pregnant, but I think Jack wants to do stuff. I want to do them too, but I don’t know what to expect. I mean, I could look online if you think it’s too personal.”
“No,” she whispers. “Sex is lots of fun when pregnant. Missionary can put too much pressure on your back. Bubba really likes rubbing my bump, so being on top gives him lots of access, but I get tired bouncing around up there.”
Grinning like a dork, I feel so empowered talking about sex with another woman. For whatever reason, the women in Milkweed tended to talk as if angels put babies in our bellies. No fucking required.
However, Soso—despite her somewhat silly name—is the most down-to-earth woman I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine having real friends like her, Scarlet, and Phoebe. I was overwhelmed last night when Sissy visited, but she seemed really sweet. My life’s been so lonely, and my only real friend is Rebel.
I’m nearly giggling with delight as Soso shares her favorite position.
“On my side, with him behind me. It gives Bubba access to his favorite parts and allows me to stay off my back. Whenever Malibu is a-napping, we are a-slapping,” she says and rolls her eyes. “Okay, that was lame, but you get the picture. Sex can be fun with the right person no matter how far along you are.”
“I’m not saying Jack wants to. I mean, I think he does.”
“He does,” she says, leaning back on the couch. “The guy’s horny as hell. I don’t think he’s gotten laid since he met you.”
“I’m sure he has.”
“It’s possible. I don’t manage his dick or anything, but Bailey said the club sluts at the pub were whining about Jack playing hard to get. That was a while ago, but after he met you, so who knows? Doesn’t matter. He seems really stuck on you. If you want to have sex, there’s no doubt he’ll agree.”
“But how do you know about that being ‘stuck on me’ thing?”
“Oh, Georgia,” she says, smirking, “everyone in our little crew gossips nonstop. Soon, you’ll know every dirty secret about me and everyone else. It’s what we do here. Scarlet told Maddy, who told Bailey, who told Sawyer, who told Lily, who told Sissy, who told Panni, who told me and I’m telling you now. If you don’t believe me, ask Phoebe. She’s the one who told her brother, Leo, who told Katya, who also told me.”
My smile fades. “People talk in Milkweed too.”
“We’re not trash, though. That’s the big difference.”
Soso isn’t intimidating like Scarlet, but she has a quiet toughness that I’d love to mimic. Maybe enough time around these women will give me what I’ve always been missing.
Feeling optimistic, I force myself to talk about my unborn son. I decide not to obsess over jinxing myself. Wishing for good things won’t lead to bad things.
I can change my negative thinking. Reprogram my brain and get rid of all the Milkweed brainwashing. I can be new. My baby will be born healthy. Rebel is safe. Jack cares about me. I’m not dead weight in this house.
By the time Jack arrives home, I’m waiting for him on the front porch. Rebel sits next to me, freshly showered after working with the goats made him sweaty.
“I milked one,” he says, proudly.
Smiling, I pretend to be grossed out. “Eww.”
“The soap we use in the shower is made out of goat milk.”
“That’s why you stink of goat,” I tease, and he shakes his head laughing.
“I smell good.”
We can hear Jack’s motorcycle from down the road. My entire body lights up, and I feel myself breathing faster. No matter what happens tonight, I feel like a better person than I was yesterday. Stronger and more confident, I won’t let the past ruin what could be an amazing future for my sons, Jack, and me.
THE HOTHEAD
Waiting for me on the porch of my sister’s house, Georgia is a vision. Her long brown hair hangs loosely down her chest, framing her heart-shaped face. Georgia wears a peach-colored shirt, and those stretchy, black pants Phoebe couldn’t get enough of during her pregnancy.
The look on her face, though, is what does me in. Her gaze undresses me in the same way it did when we were at the bar. I don’t know what happened today, but something lit a fire between her legs, and the heat’s reached her eyes.
I climb off my Harley and strut over to her, trying to hide how hard she's gotten my dick.
Seeing Rebel at her side does nothing to squash my arousal, but I’m sure a cold shower before dinner will help.
Our quick kiss before I head to my RV sets me on fire. Georgia smiles at me after our lips part, and I swear she knows she’s making me crazy.
“Give me ten minutes to clean up. The pizza should be here soon. If a delivery guy shows up while I’m in the shower, take the pizza and don’t make small talk. It’s paid for including the tip. I heard he’s a flirt, and I don’t want him making eyes at you.”
Georgia’s smile changes. I realize she’s fighting laughter. Is my possessive nature humorous?
I guess I should be relieved she isn’t bothered by my need to keep her away from other men. Patrick was no doubt the jealous type. She likely thinks possessive equals violent asshole. Wait, but I’m a violent asshole too!
Ever since I walked into Scarlet’s kitchen and found Georgia, I’ve been fighting an ugly feeling in the back of my head. The idea that I’m not right for her. Then Scarlet stated flat out that I wasn’t suited for a woman with Georgia’s background.
Despite my worries, I can’t walk away from my feelings for Georgia. I’m capable of changing for her. If I’m too fucked up now, that doesn’t mean I’ll be too fucked up in a week or a month or even a year. People change.
My pop is a stone-cold idiot and selfish to a fault, but growing up, I always felt loved and protected. I never worried he’d drop me on my head like he did my cousin, MJ. Or that he’d forget to pick me up from school. Or that he’d eat the last slice of pizza I was eyeing. Pop learned to be a good father and husband—though he’s clearly lost his fucking way during the last few years—and I can too.
A quick shower allows me to deal with my erection and get my brain back in control. Of course, as soon as I see Georgia, the heat in my gut roars back to life.
Food in hand, Georgia and Rebel enter the RV and check out the place I call home.
“The delivery man wasn’t interested in flirting with me at all,” Georgia says when I take the pizza box. “I can’t imagine why.”
I smile when she rubs her belly. Rebel frowns at her and then at me. I don’t think he gets that we’re flirting, and he’s the third wheel.
“He was intimidated by Rebel’s glare,” I say, winking at the boy. “Didn’t want to get on his bad side.”
Georgia caresses the back of her son’s neck as he struggles to figure out if I’m complimenting him or talking shit. Yeah, the kid and I aren’t hitting it off nearly as well as his mom and me.
Pizza has magical powers, though. We sit around the dinette with our root beer and slices of hot cheesy slices.
“What kind of lawn care do you do?” Georgia asks, trying to get the conversation going after we silently enjoy the tasty pizza.
“I mow lawns, plant trees and bushes, and trim crap. I also build back decks. I can do inside construction too, but I prefer being outside.”
“Me too,” Rebel says with his mouth full. “Mom and I camped outside all summer.”
When I think about them living
out of that SUV for six months, my blood boils. How many times did I drive past a place they were staying? How many near misses did we have?
Unlike Georgia’s poker face, mine refuses to hide my moods. I know that because she and Rebel lose their smiles and inch closer to each other. My anger terrifies them.
“I hate thinking of you struggling those months,” I say, picking my words carefully. “I could have made everything so much easier and safer for you both.”
Georgia nods, but she’s wary now. I never experienced the type of fear she’s felt, but I’ve seen people scarred by it. Sissy still flinches when people get loud. Soso has periods where she’s afraid to leave her house. The sound of revving motorcycles can send my aunt Farah into tears. I don’t need to know the whys behind their reactions to know how that kind of fear permanently marks a person.
“Let’s put this shit out in the open, okay?” I say, struggling to chill out. “I don’t know you two yet, and you don’t know me. So, when I get grumpy, you probably worry I’ll go full rage monster. Maybe you think I’ll hit you or some other fucked-up shit, but Johansson men don’t roll that way.”
Georgia nods, but her face is unreadable. Rebel just looks at me as if I’m full of crap.
“My grandfather was a violent man,” I say, leaning back against the wall of the RV. “A biker who grew up around violence. He believed a man wasn’t strong if he hurt those who were weaker. If a guy wanted to pound on someone because he was angry, he ought to find a person capable of giving as good as he got. Taking shit out on a wife and kids was a loser move, and my grandfather didn’t go from nothing to running a town by acting like a loser.”
Georgia blinks a few times before I see emotion return to her gaze. She caresses her son’s head. I can imagine comforting him a million times in his life—consoling him as a way of calming herself.
“Now I don’t know how they do things in Milkweed, but I also don’t care. I don’t live there. I live here. I’m not a Hegseth. I’m a Johansson. And, yeah, I bitch and moan on many occasions. But I never hit women or kids. I don’t call them names or throw things at them. I don’t kick them out of the house or threaten to destroy their shit. I don’t do whatever you think men do when they get pissed.”
Rebel swallows hard. “I’m a Hegseth.”
“No, boy, you’re a Russo like your mom.”
Man, I hit pay dirt with that comment. Georgia and Rebel instantly lose their scolded puppy expressions and smile.
“Now, I should point out that I’m no saint. There is one person in this world that I will tackle, torment, and treat like dirt. But to be fair, Scarlet’s older than me and she started that shit. So, don’t shed any tears when I make her eat hay.”
Rebel laughs at this idea. Poor sonovabitch doesn’t have a big sister to keep him in line or to drive mad with his bullshit.
“Now, I know you need to get to know me. People probably say a lot of nice shit back in Milkweed and then do bad things. You need time to get used to how we’re not them, but I want you to try and see me for me. I’m not Patrick or Sean. I’m not anyone except me. I’m not even my grandfather, who grew up rough.”
Pausing, I attempt to get my voice to soften, so I don’t sound as angry. “I was spoiled rotten as a kid. That means I get impatient when I want something and don’t get it immediately. And what I want right now is for you both to be spoiled rotten like me. I want you to feel so safe that you forget you ever lived anywhere else. I know that won’t happen right away, and I’ll get grumpy about waiting. But just know that my bitchiness isn’t anger at you. It’s just irritation that time moves so slow.”
Rebel leans over and whispers something to Georgia. She lets out an uneasy laugh and then blushes. I get a little jealous of whatever they’re sharing. Then she stands up and leans over to kiss me.
It’s a small gesture, lacking heat. She’s embarrassed to get frisky in front of her kid.
When she returns to her spot, Georgia fights both laughter and her red cheeks. Fanning herself, she shakes her head. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Rebel takes a bite of pizza and keeps his eyes on me. While I dig how he suggested his mom reward me with a kiss, I don’t know if his behavior is normal. Does he think the way to stay on my good side is to have his mom service me?
I don’t ask, of course. The kid’s got nearly a decade of programming from some twisted fucking people. Georgia’s not much better.
But they’re free now. Spending time around normal-ish people will fix a lot of the weirdness in their heads. Even if doing so goes against my every fiber, I plan to remain patient.
THE DOORMAT
Jack acts as if he’s easygoing. People probably see him that way. To me, he seems restless. He watches everyone around him, always taking stock of their behavior. He’s on edge, wary. Probably from living a biker lifestyle.
I didn’t know any of that at the honkytonk. When people got loud, and he tensed up, I thought he didn’t like crowds. I see now how he’s trained to constantly search for threats.
He can’t settle down with Rebel and me, even when we play a card game after dinner. It’s something Rebel and I did to pass the time when we were living in our car. Uno didn’t take any electricity or space. We often played for hours.
Jack doesn’t like to lose. He also gets irritated when he wins as if he should have allowed one of us to do so. He’s different around his family. Calmer, I think, and I worry Rebel and I are bad influences on him.
“I want to do things right,” he says after the sun goes down and Rebel says goodnight. Though my son enjoyed our time with Jack, inside the house is a group of kids his age. I know he also needs time to decompress from dinner.
“What things?” I ask Jack as we sit in his RV with the door open.
A chilly breeze wraps itself around us, and I shiver. Jack immediately slides an arm around my shoulders and offers to close the door.
“I’d rather use you to keep warm,” I say as my confidence returns.
Jack smiles easier this time. No matter how much he tries, Jack can’t relax around Rebel.
“I can’t connect with your kid,” he says, frowning hard. “Is that a deal-breaker?”
Fighting the urge to lean away from him, I ask, “Are you giving up on trying?”
“No, but I can’t get a good back-and-forth with him.”
“You make him nervous, and he closes himself off when he’s anxious.”
“He told you to kiss me, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. He said you looked nervous.”
Jack smiles at this comment. “Looking out for me, huh?”
“He loved his dad so much when he was little,” I admit, staring out at the tranquil night. “Patrick used to love him too, but Rebel is a bad reader and can’t hit a baseball. That meant, Patrick couldn’t love him anymore.”
“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” When I frown at his tone, Jack sighs. “I mean, Patrick’s shit, not you saying it.”
“Rebel thinks you’ll send him back to Milkweed,” I whisper, afraid to push him too hard. “He doesn’t trust you won’t toss him aside like Patrick did. He doesn’t know men can be any different.”
Jack remains silent and stares out the door. We watch the dogs chase each other. Finally, he sighs.
“When Scarlet and Phoebe moved here together, they had some trouble learning to co-parent the girls,” Jack says and then adds, “A lot of drama was also related to Scarlet’s ex, Animal. Cady stopped wanting to visit her dad in Ellsberg. She only goes because Yancy wants to.”
“Why doesn’t she want to visit him?”
“Animal’s loud and stupid, especially about her liking boys. When he loses his temper, she loses hers. It’s like watching him and Scarlet scream at each other. Yancy still thinks her dad’s stupid shit is funny. I don’t know what he’ll do when he has two teenage girls yelling at him.”
“But he’s not mean to them, right?” I whisper, afraid to loudly gossip.
>
“Of course not. He’s tight with my pop. Like ‘climb up my pop’s ass and worship him from within’ kind of tight. Even if he wanted to act like an ass to his daughters, Animal knows my pop would go apeshit on him.”
Jack sighs, fighting a smile. “My pop manages to be both the best and worst. I don’t know how I feel about him sometimes. He needs to stop believing that Animal and Scarlet can get back together. It’s as if he suffers from a mental block and can’t accept how the world's changed.”
Shaking his head, Jack nuzzles his lips against my head. “To answer your question about Animal, he’s a giant dick, but he loves his kids. He was always a better father than he was a husband. Even Scarlet says so, and she fucking hates the asshole.”
“Do you hate him?”
“He slapped Scarlet,” Jack growls full of menace. Despite his anger, I don’t pull away. I’m learning not to react as if I’m always under threat. “That night, Scarlet beat the shit out of him. It was a thing of beauty to see him busted up, but he still slapped my fucking sister. No one messes with her except me. That’s the rule. It’s always been the rule.”
Jack pauses long enough to calm himself. “So, I behave around Animal for the girls, and I even drive them to Ellsberg to visit him, but I will never fucking forgive him. Even when he’s dead, I’ll still want to piss on his grave for daring to lay a hand on my sister.”
I lift my lips and kiss his jaw. His five-o’clock shadow bristles against my flesh, sending heat to the spot between my legs. I can’t believe how aroused I get over such small things. Then again, Jack is physically the most perfect and exciting man possible.
He smiles down at me. “I plan to take such good care of you. The boys too.”
After I build up a little confidence, I admit, “I still worry we’ll stop feeling this way.”
“Naw, we know what’s important. The other stuff is fluid. That’s what Scarlet says anyway. She and Phoebe like different stuff, and that stuff might change over a lifetime, but the connection they have never changes. I used to think that’s how my parents were too, but it’s been almost five fucking years. How can anyone love someone and then stay away for that long?”
Heart Like Mine (Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter, #3) Page 12