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He’d said all that with his cheek pressed to Eight’s belly. Eight glanced at Marcella, who looked stunned, too. “Maybe. I’ll help your mom out however she needs.”
Ajax let him go and went to hug his mom. She curled over him and held him snugly. “It’s late tonight, so only fifteen minutes of reading.”
“Aw, Mom. That’s only like one chapter.”
“It’s an hour past bedtime, Ajax. Count yourself lucky to get one chapter.” She kissed his head. “Go on. I’ll be in after I say goodbye to your dad.”
With a wave to Eight, Ajax headed to his room and closed the door.
“He’s a great kid,” Eight said, still looking at that closed door. “You really are a great mom.”
Sidling up to him, Marcella brushed a soft hand down his arm. “Thanks. You’re looking like a pretty good dad.”
“I hope so. I’m trying.”
“I know. I see you trying.”
Just that, the acknowledgment that he was working at it, that she understood, felt incredibly good. Something inside Eight calmed. The sensation wasn’t too far off from the way he felt when he rolled past the Tulsa limit sign, after a Volkov run. Like leaving a worry behind him.
More than that. Like coming home.
Gazing down at Marcella, his son’s mother, this fiery, strong, gorgeous woman, he felt something happen. He couldn’t decide if it was in his head or his chest or what, but it was strong enough to make him dizzy.
“Yeah,” he tried to say, but the word broke apart as soon as it hit air. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I should get going.”
“Okay.” Marcella went to the door. Eight followed.
She took hold of the knob, but before she opened it, he reached around and set his hand on hers. “I’m glad for this, Marce. Real glad.”
Looking over her shoulder, she smiled. “Me, too.” She pulled the door open.
He stepped out, meaning to turn to say goodbye, but she followed him into the little nook outside her door. Probably intended as a bit of shelter from the elements, it made a kind of private entry.
When she closed the door, Eight knew she wanted a better goodbye. He turned, put her against the wall, and kissed her.
Everything about sex felt different now that he was with someone he cared about. Even something as simple as a kiss. Maybe that was the difference between sex and romance. Whatever it was, it felt fucking great—almost worth the new feeling of hurt when there was trouble between them. That felt different, too.
Caring was a double-edged sword—which was why he’d made a life out of not caring.
As he pulled back, Marcella made a sensual, incredibly alluring little hum and played her fingers at the collar of his shirt.
An impulse struck him. “I guess you’re working Friday night, right? You always have gigs on weekends.”
“Most, but not all. This weekend, we don’t. We’re working on the video, and we don’t have much time, so all our attention is there. Why?”
“We’re having a party at the clubhouse Friday night. It’s a patch party, when we welcome a new member into the club. It won’t be a good place for Ajax, but I was thinking, maybe you’d come, see what the clubhouse is when it’s … uh …”
“Most like a murder den?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. That. What do you think?”
She considered him in the dim of the entry, illuminated only by the lights at the stairs. Eight discovered he was very invested in her answer. He’d asked on a whim, not previously even considering inviting her, but now he very much cared.
“Uh, yeah. Okay. That’s not a bad idea.” She didn’t look eager, but she didn’t look afraid, exactly, either. Good. “I was planning to be home with Ajax, but I’ll ask my sister to hang with him.”
“Or … the club kids get together at a patch’s house, with a couple of the teenagers in charge. They sleep over. If you want, Ajax could …”
She cut him off. “Let’s take that a little bit slower. I want to know all those people and trust them before I put our son in their care, okay?”
