“You have to talk to me,” I say quietly. I turn my head and place a kiss to his neck. His chest rumbles in approval.
“You don’t know the shit we’ve been through,” he says, lowering us into the grass at our feet. He sits with his legs spread, me between them, close to his chest, but at a good angle to meet his eyes. “Everything has fallen apart in the last two years. We lost Chief, and then Tall— a kid we were going to patch-in. Everything that went down with Nic and her fucking ex? Then the hell that came after we thought we took care of that.”
He sucks in a slow, unsteady breath. I don’t take my eyes off his face as he chews at his lip. My man’s gorgeous blue-green eyes deepen as he works through what he wants to say.
“We had to remove Chief from the grass in front of Jim’s place. Buried him and almost lost Grady in the process. He’d basically lost his father. We found Alex in a warehouse, watching her own fucking brother beat the shit out of her. That girl was such a bad fucking idea. We shot up her dad’s house and took her away like removing her from New York was going to fix shit, but it didn’t. And I hated the sight of her for a damn long time. Every time I looked at her face, all I could see was Chief, dead in the grass. Everything we’ve done after that has been to protect our family and we’ve fucking failed at every turn. So no, I don’t want you involved in the club.”
“All that stuff happened and you stayed clean,” I say quietly. It’s not more important than Chief— my best friend’s father, nor is it more important than the boy who took a bullet to the back of his head while trying to keep Holly and Mindy safe. It’s not even more important than Michael Mancuso wailing on his sister who happens to be half his size. I wasn’t here to live through every awful day the rest of them have. I can barely imagine how bad it’s been, but I know the details. I know the reason Mindy doesn’t sleep through the night, and why Holly is so attached to Ian even though she’s with Grady. And I know that my man has never dealt with trauma well. The first time he went off the rails was when he met his dad for the first time at nineteen. It wasn’t just bad, it was awful. I didn’t know he could be that cruel or hate himself that much. One fight when I’m eight months pregnant, one stupid lie he never should have believed, and we broke up. Not five minutes later and he has his dick down some bitch’s throat.
One thing I know for certain about Wyatt Strand is that he doesn’t deal well when shit hits the fan. And maybe my man staying clean isn’t as important as everything else the club has gone through over the past two years, but it is to me. It is to my children. Because while we weren’t here, dealing with the hell the Fort Bragg charter has been through, I know my man. And now, without a single doubt, I know he’s going to stay clean. Because if he can deal with everything else, he can and will stay away from all the shit that tried to destroy us all those years ago.
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“How’d you do it?” Wyatt levels me with a flat expression. I reach up and cup his face in my hands. His growing beard is rough beneath my touch and tickles at my fingers, but I don’t waiver. I prod, asking him again.
“All that shit, all those pills, and lines on mirrors never did dull the pain. All it did was drive you away. I knew, somehow, that Z was mine, but he deserves better. I’m just a piece of shit biker without an education and a rap sheet that would kill several trees to print out. But every fucking day, especially now that you and our kids are here, I remind myself that there’s something to live for. I just had to get sick and tired of being sick and tired first. And then it was easy, letting myself be selfish enough to want you and work on my shit so maybe, one day, I could have you.”
“You’re not a piece of shit,” I whisper, pulling myself closer. “Clara’s your mom, not because she had to be but because she chose you. I’m your woman because I chose you too. Zander and Piper didn’t get to choose you, but I know damn well they would if they’d had the choice.”
“You’re still in trouble for that shit you pulled back there,” he grumbles, his voice softening. I smile up at him and kiss his cheek.
“You can spank me later if it makes you feel better.”