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“Only... Saylor. She told me Dad wasn’t home.”
“You didn’t know that before going over?”
“I texted him to ask, but he didn’t answer.”
Or Judge did answer to tell Ry he wasn’t home, giving Ry the head’s up that the coast was clear.
Jemma had met Rev’s younger sister, Saylor, at dinner the other night. Her brother’s house mouse was very pretty but way more experienced in life than Ry. Not only with the topics she talked about, but how she dressed and did her makeup. Her nephew reminded her of a boy, while Saylor looked like she had a penchant for trouble. It was one reason Judge and Cassie took her on and into their home. Saylor needed to learn responsibility and Daisy, along with the housekeeping duties, was enough to keep her busy and keep her out of that trouble.
For the most part.
While all the Fury members were warned not to touch Saylor, not just by Judge but by Rev, Jemma wondered if Judge had told his son the same. Because it wasn’t hard to miss that Ry only had eyes for Saylor all during the dinner at Lottie’s. Jemma wasn’t the only one who noticed. Judge did, too.
While both kids were eighteen, they seemed years apart in life experience. Jen must have sheltered Ry. While Saylor had spent time in juvie.
Not the best start for a teenaged girl.
Living with Cassie and Judge would help give her a good foundation to move on from her troubled past. But really, Saylor was legally an adult. She could do whatever she wanted.
Jemma wondered if Saylor wanted to do Ry. Because no doubt remained that Ry wanted to do Saylor.
She hated to be the one to tattletale to Judge about Ry sneaking over to his house when he and Cassie weren’t home, but she also didn’t want Ry stuck with a surprise baby, like Dyna.
He needed to get his degree first, get settled into a good career before he got saddled with a family, which could possibly derail his plans if it happened before it was time.
Jemma was the first in the Scott family to get a college education. She wanted Ry to be the second. The kid had a lot of potential.
Ry seemed poised to sprint toward the bunkhouse to escape his aunt’s questions. She didn’t blame him since she remembered what it was like to be a horny teenager. She had been eighteen herself only nine years prior.
“Ry—” The start of her please-be-careful lecture was interrupted by a crying Dyna. Someone was awake and most likely hungry.
She pulled Dyna from the carrier hooked into the stroller base and straightened out the baby’s onesie, which today read: Warning! Protected by a Biker Grandpa, with a picture of a motorcycle, of course.
It was easy to figure out who bought that one. Especially since Dutch had taken a black Sharpie and drawn a top rocker on the back of it, filling it in with the name “Duchess.”
She was sure Cage just loved that fact, since he grimaced every time Dutch called her that. But then, so did Jemma.
As Dyna continued to cry softly, Jemma knew it would become an angry wail soon if she didn’t get her fed. But instead of rushing back to the trailer, she stepped up to Ry and forced him to take her.
“Make sure you support her head and neck.” She moved his hands to where they needed to be, then stepped back, watching his expression turn panicked.
Dyna would be a great reminder of what could happen if he wasn’t careful. She had no idea if Ry knew the truth of his own conception. Most likely, he didn’t.
Judge was still pissed about Jen trapping him by poking holes in his condoms, but Jemma doubted he’d ever tell his son what a real piece of shit his mother had been.
Ry probably learned some of it when he found out his “dead” father was very much alive and his mother had lied about it for eighteen years. He’d also found all the text messages and listened to all the voicemails Judge had left for his son over the years, hoping Ry would contact him.
So, yeah, after Ry’s mother died, he discovered some of the truth. But not all of it and maybe not about the whole condom sabotage. There was no point in bringing that up at this point in Ry’s life. Unless it could be used as a lesson.
Both Dyna and Ry’s existence were hard lessons on how condoms could fail. Either on purpose or by accident.
Ry looked like a deer in headlights ready to get plastered by an eighteen-wheeler. He’d probably prefer that to holding a still crying Dyna.
Good.
“Bounce her gently to try to soothe her. Rub her back, too.” Jemma knew that probably wouldn’t help since Dyna was ready to eat and wasn’t just being fussy. “Now, hum or sing to her a little bit... She’s a good lesson of what not to do, Ry. You have college and your whole future ahead of you. Don’t screw that up.”
