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I shake my head as I straighten the sheet and blanket once again. I’m restless, knowing there’s a chance Stormy will report that I showed up this evening with Ryder in tow. It wasn’t exactly forbidden that I bring him, but I know how unprofessional it is, even though most of my time here is spent just sitting and talking to myself.
My shift with Bishop runs from six in the evening until midnight, and then I come back on shift for my regular job at seven in the morning. Usually, by the time I get back, someone from the clubhouse is already sitting here with him.
The pay is fabulous, probably more than the actual job is worth. I turned it down at first. Kincaid wanted me to work full time for only Bishop, sitting with him and taking care of his needs at the clubhouse, but it wasn’t possible. He understood when I explained about Ryder and that I didn’t want to leave anyone in a bind here at the care facility. A full-time position taking care of one patient would be great, but eventually the job would be over, and I know there would be only a slim chance I’d be hired back on here. They aren’t big on giving people second chances, and the bitterness of me leaving with little to no notice wouldn’t be overlooked.
Kincaid offered to give it to someone else since I have a child. He didn’t seem exactly thrilled that I’d be leaving him with my mom, but after assuring him that Ryder goes to sleep at seven, he agreed.
I need the money so bad. The attorney I hired is expensive, not that I’ve heard much from him other than it’s best to wait until Travis is convicted before fighting for full custody because a conviction paints him in a bad light.
He didn’t want to hear about my suggestions for Travis to be required to get help. He told me that the child welfare services are the ones who dictate what the parents are supposed to do. I’ve left several messages with the man over the last couple of weeks, but I haven’t heard back from him.
“I don’t like the lady that sits and watches me talk to Daddy,” Ryder complains, his eyes locked on his tablet.
My eyes burn with unshed tears. I hurt for my little boy. God, he deserves better. I know Travis loves him in his own way. I know he has a hard time relating to such a young child. I have no doubt he’ll want to be best friends with my son when he’s older, but he’s going to burn every bridge between the two of them long before Ryder gets old enough.
“She’s just doing her job, buddy.”
He sighs in a way that only a five-year-old can and continues to watch the movie downloaded on his tablet for a second time tonight.
The door opens, and I freeze, expecting to see one of the other women who work here.
“Hi,” I say to Legacy as he enters the room.
He nods at me, his lips turning up into a genuine grin when he sees my son.
“I’m sorry, he’s—”
“Ryder,” Ryder says, popping up from the chair in the corner. “I’m five.”
Legacy shakes his hand. “Emmett.”
Ryder narrows his eyes, looking from the man’s face to his leather cut and back again before pointing at the left side of his chest. “That doesn’t say Emmett.”
“That says Legacy. It’s like my nickname. Do you have a nickname?”
My son chews the inside of his cheek as he looks in my direction. “I don’t like my nickname. I got it from climbing all over the place. How did you get yours?”
Monkey.
I’ve called him that a million times. He never once told me he didn’t like it.
“There has been someone in my family from every generation who has been in the Marine Corps since it was founded in seventeen seventy-five.”
Ryder’s eyes go wide. “That’s a really long time.”
“It is. Are you helping your mom tonight?”
Ryder shakes his head. “She said to be quiet because Mr. Porter is sleeping, but she’s talking to him like he’s awake.”
Legacy lifts his eyes to mine, winking at me.
I’ve had more interaction with the Cerberus men in the last year than I ever had in the three years working here before that. One of the residents, lovingly called Big Daddy, is the grandfather of Spade’s girlfriend. Since those two got together, there’s been several members in and out on a regular basis.
I’ve heard lots of stuff about them, mostly from Travis, who seems to hate even the sight of any of the guys wearing a leather vest, but they’ve always been nice to me. There’s also a real chance Travis didn’t like them because he saw them as competition for whatever woman he was trying to hook up with.
