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Not one to take credit, even when it’s due, Gunz does what he always does and remains casual, relaxed in his chair, pretending not to notice he just handed our son a wonderful gift. “I’ll run it by Prez. He’s not gonna care as long as you plan on… ya know.” Twirling a Dum Dum between his sexy, beard-encircled lips, the man side-eyes me.
I give them nothing to work with. He can say it out loud. I’m not stupid. Adam likes it here. The only way he can stay is if he becomes one of them. Do I want my son running with an outlaw motorcycle club? No. Does any mother ever want that? No. But I trust Gunz to keep him safe, as safe as he can, given the circumstances. All I want is for my son to be happy. To feel wanted. To belong. It’s clear that means here with the Sacred Sinners.
When I focus on Adam, he, too, is eyeing me much like his father.
Slinking back in my chair, and crossing my arms over my chest, I sigh. “Come on, guys. Just say it.”
“I wanna prospect for the club,” Adam admits around another mouthful of cheesecake, his strong, cut jaw contracting with every bite.
To keep my hands busy, I fiddle with the hem of my shirt. “Then what’s stopping you?”
“You.”
I frown, confused. “How? You’re grown. You make your own choices.”
He always has.
“Because he cares what you think,” Gunz throws out in our son’s defense.
Adam nods—once, twice. Slow and observant.
“That’s a nice sentiment, but Adam’s never cared what I think. He marches to the beat of his own drum.”
“This isn’t the same, Mom.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you’re stayin’, right?”
Without knowing my thoughts on the matter, Gunz answers in my stead. “Yeah. She’s stayin’.”
Pressing my lips together to stave off a reaction, I let Gunz think or say whatever he wants because I refuse to discuss our situation in Adam’s presence.
Let’s be honest. We haven’t known each other long enough to decide if I’ll stay or go. I can’t… No. Iwon’tmake rash decisions like that. Not now. Not ever. Staying here for the time being is a godsend. Am I enjoying myself? Yes. Without a doubt. Does that mean I plan to live here indefinitely? Not at all. I’m an independent woman. I can think and act for myself. If I’ve learned anything in my forty-plus years on this earth, it’s you only have yourself to rely on. Being with Gunz makes me happy—right now. But it’s fresh. You and I both know what happens when you first fall for a guy. It’s magical. You’re the lovesick puppy, jumping through hoops to keep your fella interested. He’s as equally infatuated. It’s middle school all over again. The excitement. The hormones. Kisses and hand-holding. Butterflies. No matter how old you get, that doesn’t seem to change. The cycle remains the same. Eventually, the honeymoon phase wears off, and reality sets in. The things you once found endearing, you despise. It was the same with Jeremy.
I thought it was cute that he liked to pick out my clothes until it became controlling. Until the fairytale wore off. He wanted me to pack his lunches for work and cook dinner every night. Again, I adored domesticity. I found it, for the lack of a better term, nice. But, once again, I grew resentful as the years passed. Jeremy only ever wanted to eat what he wanted, never caring what I liked. Hell, he probably never knew a single dish I loved. He definitely didn’t know fried pickles were my favorite. Had I told him, he’d have forgotten the same day.
I know what you’re thinking. This kind of attitude isn’t helpful. Gunz isn’t Jeremy. Trust me, I’m aware. Just as I’m aware, I don’t fit in here as Adam does. I’m not a badass biker chick like Bink or even Loretta. I don’t ride Harleys, and I’ve never even been on a bike. Trust me when I say it takes more than tattoos, the love of loud music, and a jacked-up pickup to fit in with a motorcycle club. Gunz will learn soon enough, just as Jeremy did, I’m not worthy of his time. Thankfully, that’s never been my goal. All I want is for Adam to be happy. He’s here, with his father, talking. They’re laughing and having the best time. That’s what matters. That’s what makes my heart soar. This is what I’ve hoped for his entire life.
Refusing to address what Gunz said about me living here, I focus on Adam instead. “Prospect for the club.”
There. Done.
I dust my hands together to let things fall where they may. It’s out of my control now. Not that it was ever in my control to begin with.
“For real?!”
“Yes.”
“You’re cool with that?”
Even if I wasn’t, I want him happy. “If you’re willing to put in the workandput down roots here, then do it. Commit.”For once in your life, I tack on in my head because Adam lacks stability. He’s practically a vagabond. Here, with the club, at least he’ll have brothers, his father, and a support system in place for whatever life throws at him. There will be structure and expectations. It might even keep his ass out of jail for once. That’s one hell of a bonus.
Adam cleans the fork with his tongue like he’s done since he was a child when he eats cheesecake, savoring every morsel. “I want that.” He pulls a disposable napkin off the table, wipes his mouth, and drops the wadded paper onto his plate.
“You sure?” Gunz double-checks.
A round of eager head bobs ensue from our kid. “Yeah. I’m positive.”
