Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I widen my eyes at Yana when she glares at my sudden outburst. "Don't judge."
She widens hers back before turning back to Jada.
Jada laughs off Yana's offer to take this back someplace else. "My son will be home from school."
The words hit me wrong. My brain stutters, trying to process what she just said while my face does something that probably looks normal. I blink slow, force some half-assed smile onto my mouth.
A son. She has a fucking son.
"You have a son?" I ask.
"I do." She watches me. "His name's Garret. He's five. You might meet him tonight. We live on the north side of the property."
So she lives on the property. Definitely Hella's kid. Why the hell has Yana never talked about her?
This is the hundredth time I’ve been uncomfortable since arriving. Jada packs up her bag and thanks Old Fella for her Coke before we stand to walk her out.
Yana hangs back as we clear our mess. "I feel bad I never took a moment to talk with her."
"Yeah," I answer, slowly following behind Jada. "Why haven't you?"
A water bottle lands in my hand. "Because I don't hang around here. I mean I do, but I stick outside the club and only come in when Beast needs me."
Odd, for an old lady.
Jada's son revelation strikes deep. Five years old. The timeline fits. If Hella has a kid, why didn't he say anything? Not that he owes me explanations, but it adds another dimension to the man I want to both strangle and straddle.
I take a slow sip of water, the tasteless liquid doing nothing to wash away the bitterness coating my tongue. Another woman who's known Hella intimately. Another connection I don't have with him. Not that I want one.
Do I?
Alcohol makes everything fuzzy around the edges, but one thing remains crystal clear. I'm in over my head with these people. Their histories, their traumas, their bonds forged in blood and weird societies. I'm just a bakery owner with a fucked-up Uni experience and daddy issues.
Yana's squeezes my arm, pulling me back to the present. “You sure you're okay?”
I nod, forcing a smile as we hit the doors. “Just wondering if we're still going out tonight.”
I need to see him. I need to know if he looks at Jada the same way he looks at me, like he wants to devour me whole while simultaneously pushing me away. Like I'm both salvation and damnation wrapped in one package.
Or maybe I just need another drink.
Twelve
Hella
We pull into the clubhouse just as Jada walks out with Yana and Melissa following behind. Melissa stops at the threshold, leaning against the door frame, watching as Jada pulls me in for a hug.
I nudge my head, dragging my eyes away from Melissa. “How's my boy?”
She smiles, tucking her inky black hair behind her ear. “He's good, but he planned to stay at his friend's next weekend,” she says, watching me closely.
“That's my weekend.” I cross my arms, not willing to fight her on shit right now.
“I know, but he needs to get out, Hella. This,” she waves her hands airily to illustrate her point. “He needs a fucking break from it too, and Brent's a good kid. They live on the North Shore. He comes from a good home, so he'll be safe.”
“He's mine, Jada. You run that shit past me before you make plans for him on my weekend. I'll drop him off there to case out the joint.” Wo the fuck names their kid Brent these days. Shady as hell.
“Hux,” she sighs, placing her hand on my arm. “Brent's dad is a lawyer and his mum is a veterinarian. You can't roll up there on your big bad motorcycle with your big bad colours on your back. You'll terrify them and their neighborhood and eventually leave Garret with no friends. I'll take him.”
She has a point.
“I don't fucking like it, Jada.”
She sighs again. “I know, I know, but our boy needs friends and a life outside this club.”
“No, he doesn't.”
She rolls her eyes and I bend down, kissing her lightly on the cheek, cutting off the conversation. She knows the discussion is over, so she continues toward her car. When my eyes dart back to where Melissa is, she’s already walking back into the clubhouse.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I turn around just as Jada is about to get into her car. “Did you tell Melissa about Garret?”
Jada pauses, one foot in and one foot out. “Yes, and she knows about our history. She didn't ask any questions, though. Also, she's been drinking a bit.”
That means she doesn't know whether Garret is mine or not. Don't fucking care either. If my having a son bothers any woman, she has no place on my dick. Garret may not be mine by blood, but I claimed the little shit the minute Jada gave birth to him in the clubhouse. I shit you not, she went from “I think I'm having Braxton Hicks” to “I need to fucking push”. I had only just Googled what the fuck “Braxton Hicks” meant when she started pushing. All the brothers were there, but Beast and I kicked everyone out before it got graphic. We had 911 on the phone talking us through it until the ambulance got there. Could fucking kill Checker, the sperm donor. The fucker is lucky he's in Australia, that useless cocksucker. Then again, I'm glad he's a fucking shitstain. Garret is the best thing that ever happened to me. I'd kill Checker if he came onto my turf; brother or no brother, that kid comes first.