Zander’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he blows out a frustrated breath. His big-ass sneaker kicks at the wall behind him in frustration. I taught Zander how to shoot a damn long time ago, but I have my rules. He doesn’t get to touch a gun if he’s being a little asshole and just generally pissing me off. This morning it was his snapping at his sister and sending her into an hour-long meltdown that pissed me off. An hour later it was his asking Dad to take him to the clubhouse after I’d made it clear that he was staying in this way-too-small-for-four-people house until further notice. Now it’s the constant asking that’s making me want to run away. Not that my dad would let me. Don’t get me wrong. He loves me and my kids—Piper has him wrapped around her little finger—but he’s not a patient man.
It’s been three days since I’ve seen Wyatt, and I haven’t heard from him once. Our moment had been interrupted by Grady—who, last I checked, was Jim’s sergeant-at-arms back when he was president, but is now Wyatt’s VP. Club business takes precedent. Always has, always will. I wasn’t expecting some grand declaration of love and for him to make love to me on the floor next to a thousand splinters from the furniture he broke, but I also didn’t expect him to stand up and leave me without even looking back. To be honest, I don’t know what I expected.
“Hey, Dad?” I can’t believe I’m about to ask my dad to watch the kids again. I’ve been relying on him too much lately, but I find myself asking even though I know I shouldn’t. My dad—Elmore “Thumper” Wallace—is a serious badass. He likes his bike, his booze, and his women, and he’s not shy about any of it. I love him, even though he’s never really been a hands-on dad, and admire the man greatly. But he’s the world’s worst babysitter. If it weren’t important to me that I see Wyatt tonight, I wouldn’t even leave the kids.
The night Diesel dragged me off to the clubhouse, I came home really late to find Dad gone, Piper passed out on the couch with chocolate on her face, and my son in Dad’s room with the door locked and some cheap-ass porn music coming through the door. I was embarrassed, for sure, but this is the life of a boy in puberty. I can’t tell him to stop doing his business, because as a grown-ass woman and mother of two, I need my alone time or I’m going to kill somebody. I just figure he’s like his momma and appreciates a little self-loving. I want to say I’m a cool mom, but it’s taken me two years of wigging out to get to this point. Now I only ask that he keep it to himself. Another reason he needs his dad around. The best advice I’ve given him when it comes to sex is to keep it in his pants, and then I handed Piper off to him and walked away. Needless to say, I think his baby sister is a pretty awesome form of birth control. She’s cute all right, and I love her to bits, but holy fuck is she a demanding little terrorist at times. Just like her older brother, she needs her dad, too. They need their dad, and I need a nap.
“Been waiting for you to ask,” Dad says. He sticks his thumb over his shoulder and tells me to go.
“Why the hell do you get to go to the clubhouse but I can’t?” Zander whines. He seriously whines. He’s bigger than half the men I know, and he’s starting to grow in facial hair, but he’s not a man. He’s a little boy who’s on his way to becoming the man he think he already is. It’s crazy how he straddles the fence between being a child and an adult at times. I just wish I had Wyatt here with me to share these small moments with.
“Because I have shit to do,” I snap. I hate losing my patience with him. He just wants to go see his dad. I know that. But his dad knows about him, and he knows where we are. He hasn’t shown up. I’m not telling my boy that, so I just don’t tell him anything. Elle’s told me time after time that Wyatt’s changed, but with every passing day that he doesn’t come by and meet his kids or contact me, I doubt it more and more. Not that I necessarily want him coming up here unannounced. My eyes slide to my baby girl for confirmation that I really, really don’t want him coming up here before I can tell him about her.
“That’s crap,” Zander says with some serious attitude.
I grab my purse from the kitchen counter and cross the room to where he stands. I could lay into him about mouthing off, because normally I would be pissed about the way he’s talking to me. But this time it’s different. My teenager isn’t being a dick because he can. He desperately wants to meet his dad, and as much as I want that for him, I have to make sure Wyatt’s in the right head space for it.
“Hey,” I say in the gentle voice I use for sensitive situations like this. “I know you want to see your dad. And I want you to see him—I do. But remember what I told you?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, so I wait until he does.
“It has to be the right time,” he finally says.