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"Alright then," he says. "We'll make sure Harry Jacobson knows that Esme is off fucking limits."
"Good. Now, there's somethin' else I want to talk to you about," I say, looking down at the baby that's fast asleep in my arms.
"I have a feelin' I know what you're gonna say, Reap, and while I don't want it to be true, I've seen the boy. He sure as fuck don't look like Preach, but he sure does look like you."
My gut sinks at his words. Fuck. I had hoped that he'd say he wasn't seeing what I was, that my mind was playing tricks on me. But fuck. This isn't good. This is not fucking good.
"What are you goin' to do?" Ace asks, his voice low and even. I see the war in his eyes. "Are you goin' to voice your concerns to Preach?"
I swallow hard. "Would you?" I ask. "Fuck, man, he's dealin' with enough as it is. I mean, he's still strugglin' with me takin' the fall for him and doin' time. What do you think he's goin' to say when I tell him I think that cunt Pepper lied to him and the boy ain't his? That guilt, the fear, the fuckin' pain?"
I shake my head. I can't do that to my brother. There's no way in hell I'd ever be able to hurt him that way. To take his son from him. But fuck. If he's mine, I want to know. I've never been one to want kids, but with the thought he could be mine, I want to see. I'm torn. Do I do what's best for Preach and Tyson or do I see if what Ace and I are thinking is true?
Fuck.
* * *
I knock on the door, waiting for it to open. I know she's here. Her car is parked in the drive. It's late, almost ten in the evening. I should leave her alone, but right now, she's the only person I can go to. It's fucked up. Everything in my world has tilted in the blink of an eye. It was beyond hard to act as though everything was normal when Preach woke up and came to get Tyson. I didn't want to let the boy go. I didn't want to walk away, but I had to. I had shit to do, and I've spent the entire day losing my mind on what to do about it all.
The door opens, and she stands before me in a tight pink tank that stretches across her breasts. She's wearing tatty fucking sweatpants and her feet are bare, yet she's never looked more fucking beautiful.
"Is everything okay?" she asks, her brows knitted together as she glances me over. "What's happened?" Even though her voice is filled with concern, her body is wound up tight, almost as though she's shocked I'm standing before her.
"You look surprised to see me," I say as I step into the house.
"Well yeah," she replies with a slow blink. "I mean, this morning it sounded as though you were done. I assumed that was the case. I didn't think I'd see you again. I thought you had a custom bike that needed finishing?"
I run a hand over my head. "Yeah, I did, but that didn't mean I was fuckin' done with you, Es. Christ. You have no fuckin' idea just how intoxicatin' you are. I couldn't walk away if I tried."
I watch as her entire body sags in relief. Her shoulders slump forward, the pain I hadn't realized was in her eyes slowly ebbs away, and she gives me that gorgeous smile of hers. "Okay," she says softly, opening the door wider for me to enter the house. "I was going to order takeout and have a glass of wine. Want a beer?"
I step close to her, sliding my hands along her back and pulling her into me. I slant my lips against hers, savoring the taste of her. Christ, never will I ever get enough of her.
"You good, honey?" I ask as I pull back and look into her eyes.
She gives me that soft as fuck smile. "Yeah," she says. "Just finished with work, so you have great timing."
I grin at her. I fucking love that she wants me here, that she wants to have dinner with me. "I'll order the takeout."
"We can get it delivered or you can take my car and get it," she says as she walks into the living room. Papers are scattered on top of the coffee table, her laptop sitting on the sofa, and an empty wine glass sits among the chaos of papers.
"You good with me drivin' your car?" I ask, knowing that her car isn't a heap of junk. In fact, it's new and must have set her back a good amount of money.
There's that sweet as fuck smile again. "Of course," she says as she moves to her purse. "I'm happy with any pizza. I love meat, but no pineapple, olives, or mushrooms," she says a little distractedly as she roots through her huge purse. I'm not sure if she's even able to see in it, it's so fucking big.
"Here," she says, handing me her car keys and some money. "I only have a couple of beers in the fridge. I'll stock up the next time I'm at the grocery store, but if you could grab some when you're out, that would be good."
"Es," I say, pleased as fuck that she wants me to get them. It means she wants me here. "I ain't takin' your money. You're my woman, and I pay for dinner and any fuckin' booze I want."
She blinks. "Reaper," she whispers. "This isn't?—"
I pull her into my body once again. "I know, this isn't what you wanted. You're still dealin' with what that fuckhead did to you," I say. "But that doesn’t mean that I'm him. What we have, we're goin' to enjoy, and you are my woman."
She doesn't argue with me. Instead, she pushes up on her tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to my lips. "Go. I'll have a shower while you're gone."
"Sounds good. Lock up after me, Es. I've got your keys, so I can let myself in when I'm back." I don't want something happening to her while I'm gone. Not fucking happening.
She nods. "I will, and when you're back, we'll talk about what's bothering you. And don't say nothing."
