We pull into the parking lot of the shop and I’m faced with the closed gates to the clubhouse. I can’t see anything beyond the gates because of the black slats in the chain link that keep prying eyes from club business. I don’t realize I have a death grip on the door handle until the sweat from my hand becomes uncomfortable. I left Wyatt because he made me. It wasn’t my choice. I didn’t want to leave him. I never would have if he’d given me any choice. But I was seven months pregnant and he’d slammed my head into a brick wall. He’d threatened to kill me and then forced me to watch him get his dick sucked on my way out.
Diesel honks the horn, and I have to close my eyes to block out the view of the clubhouse as the gates open. I can’t do this. I can’t. I fucking can’t. My lungs strain for air that isn’t coming. I can’t do this. Fuck. Every muscle in my body is tight, and I swear to Christ I think I might swallow my goddamn tongue. I double over and use my free arm to cover my head, like if I can hide in this seat, then I won’t have to face Wyatt for what I’ve done. Tears well in my eyes, but I force them back before they can spill down my face. I may be freaking out, but I refuse to cry. I’m an adult, and I made my choices. I have to deal with them.
Diesel puts the SUV in park, cuts the engine, and waits. He doesn’t comfort me in any way. He just lets me freak the fuck out and is damn patient while I do it.
I don’t know how long it takes me to calm down. I just know that eventually my breathing stabilizes and I figure out how to stop my heart from beating itself right out of my chest. When I sit up and take a deep breath and calmly look over at Diesel, I find he’s staring at me with what might be sympathy in his eyes. Or maybe it’s boredom.
“Thus the handcuffs,” he says as a way of defense. I don’t admit that he was probably right to cuff me. “Got mad respect for you, babe. You earned your title as my VP’s old lady, you’re raising two kids on your own, and my woman loves you, so that means I got love for you. Your title means your life is more important to me than mine is, but get this—regardless of how shit went down, you got my VP’s kids, and I put my ass on the line to help save one of them. Those cuffs ain’t about disrespect for you. They’re about respect for your old man and my brother. Something you need to learn about me is that I’m a family man, and Forsaken is my family. So yes, the cuffs are necessary.”
My lips turn up in the corners even though I try to hide my smile. Diesel just shakes his head, gets out of the car, and walks around to my side and uncuffs me only to slap the other end on himself.
“Got Church and I’m already late, so you’re going to keep your ass in your old man’s room.”
“I could just tag along, ya know,” I say. Like that would ever happen.
“Crazy bitch,” he mutters and drags me toward the clubhouse. There are two other vehicles in the lot and a line of bikes along the side of the building near the entrance. I avoid checking them out, preferring instead to avoid the mental guessing game of figuring out which one belongs to Wyatt. We walk in, but I keep my eyes on the floor the entire time. It’s bad enough that I’m here, doing what I’m doing, but it’s even worse that I’m handcuffed to a brother in the process. If I weren’t so fucked up, I might be able to feel embarrassed about the situation I’ve found myself in.
Every step is so familiar, like deja vu or something. It’s not because the familiarity comes from the last time I was here. I showed up that night fourteen years ago to show my man I was still his woman, even if I was a woman with a waddle. I left that night totally devastated. Wyatt wasn’t mine. It was the worst night of my life. Every day after was better than that day. I didn’t have my man but I had my baby, and then when I actually had my baby, he was perfect and gorgeous. Even if I was the only thing he had in this world, I vowed to be enough for him. The second worst night of my life was realizing that I’d failed. I’m not enough on my own. Zander needs his dad even if his dad is a fucking asshole. The kid is half a foot taller than me now. He’s losing his boyish frame and is starting to grow muscles—all over but in his arms especially. I don’t think I realized how strong he’d gotten until we got into a fight about his disappearing this past summer and he pushed me out of his way. It took me back to the way Wyatt used to manhandle me, and I flipped out on him. It didn’t do any good. I’m not intimidating enough, I guess, and that’s the moment I gave up trying to tell myself that I could do this alone.
I just didn’t know how not to do this alone.
Not just for Zander, but for Piper as well. She’s still so young, and she doesn’t know any better, but she needs her a daddy. She needs a man who’s going to tell her she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. She needs him to make her believe that she’s worthy and strong and important just for being who she is. Because one day a man is going to try to treat her like crap, and she needs to know that’s bullshit and she’s worth more. I can tell her all of that, but she won’t absorb it the same way coming from me as she will from her father.