He rights himself, but doesn’t meet my eyes. His mouth moves a few times before he gets sound to come out and he whispers, “No.”
“Look me in the eyes,” I snap. I’m still feeling pissed as fuck, and I’m in no mood to stand here and play daddy to this damn kid, but we have to get a few things straight. When Jeremy lifts his eyes and steels himself for the punishment he deserves, I think that there might be hope for him after all. He might be short bus slow, but he’s at least responding. I’d hate to have to really fuck him up, since we’re going to be living together.
“Let’s get a few things straight—your ass is lucky that it was my bike you scratched, and you’re damn lucky that I was the one who caught that little scene just now. Don’t forget that your dad’s Forsaken, and that means both you and your sister are family. Any of my brothers catch you talking to your sister—and my Old Lady—like that and they won’t give a fuck who your daddy is.”
“Yes, Sir,” he says and waits until I signal for him to leave. When he does, I look back at Nic. She has her head in her hands with her feet up on the couch and her elbows resting on her knees. Striding to the couch, I sit and look down at her. She’s so fucking small compared to him. The boy’s got to be about six feet tall by now, and every time I see him he’s got another couple pounds of muscle on his frame. She’s pretty much just skin, bones, and tits.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “He really is sorry about scratching your bike. He just had a rough day.”
“That kid isn’t sorry, but he’s about to be if he doesn’t learn to watch his fucking mouth,” I mutter. She lifts her head and pushes her straight blonde hair back from her face. Crawling up on her knees, she pushes herself up against my side.
“Please,” she whispers. “I know he’s a brat, but he’s all I got.” The sincerity in her voice breaks my heart.
“You have me. I told you—you’re my woman,” I say.
“You didn’t have to call me your Old Lady to scare those kids,” she says. “They were plenty scared of you anyway.”
“Come on, Nicole. You’re not stupid. You know that’s not why I did it.”
“Do I?” she asks. Her bottom lip is at a pout, and she looks sad, like really fucking sad. “I don’t feel like that’s where we’re going. I feel like you’re just passing time.”
“We’re moving past that shit that went down. Both of us,” I say. I can’t talk about how I fucked up anymore, so I change the subject. “This happen often?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans over and places a kiss on my cheek so fucking softly that it makes me feel almost nervous. Nic isn’t soft and she isn’t gentle. My girl’s hell on wheels with a bottle of Jack and her middle finger up in the air—at least with me she is. But this moment makes me want to give her gentle. I want to show her that not everything has to be loud and abrasive. The quiet is nice, too.
“More lately,” she says quietly. “Butch’s parole was denied. Letter came in the mail this afternoon.”
"Shit," I say. I’ll have to touch base with Jim on that and see if there’s anything we can do. That's not good. We had been hoping that his parole would be granted. The shit we ask our guys to do both on the inside, as well as the outside, is pretty fucked up. Butch went in a few years back for a delivery gone wrong. The guy fucked up, and it wasn't pretty. None of us like to see a brother going down, even if it is his fault. Nic is having a hard enough time with her brother, much less herself, that it would make a world of difference if her father were here. For one, Jeremy wouldn’t be pulling the shit he does. Knowing Butch, he’d lay the kid in the dirt and make him explain in full sentences why what he did was wrong, and he’d do it with his boot to the kid’s throat.
“Yeah, shit,” she says. Looking over at her and giving her an apologetic smile, I decide that I like this. The talking about everyday stuff with her, the bossing her punk brother around with her. Fuck. I just like being around her. Unfortunately, it’s rare that she seems to feel the same about me, and that’s a pretty big problem. I can only do so much to try to make this happen. Now I just need her to step up and do her part. Like making me some food.
“Still, he needs to learn what it means to be a man, and you can’t teach him that,” I say.
“Okay, so pick one up for me the next time you’re at Home Depot,” she says with a sarcastic smile.
“Why? You got the pick of the litter right here,” I say with a grin. Her face falls, and she shakes her head. Pushing herself up off the couch and to her feet, she sticks her hands in her pockets.
“You need to stop saying stuff like that.” Her voice is teetering somewhere between angry and frustrated. Knowing Nic, her mood could easily swing either way. I turn and give her my full attention.