I didn’t see her or hear from her for over fifteen years, not until the night she strode back into the clubhouse last year and asked me to pour her a whiskey.
One of the best moments of my life.
When she told me she’d stayed away because a club out west, a rival MC, forced her to, that had made me crazy all over again. Why hadn’t I seen that? Why hadn’t I figured that out? I could’ve stopped it, helped her, unraveled it for her. It was what I did, what I’d always done.
But when my emotions were wrapped up in someone, I couldn’t see straight. I didn’t read the usual signs.
Inès had proven that to be true.
I suppose there were times when only we could extricate ourselves from our own ravel in order to make it stick.
Now, here at a baby store, of all places, all these years later, I got to bear witness to Grace’s renewal, this turning over of her soil. All her fragmented ends and splintered edges had been smoothed, her smoldering cinders doused with cool water. Hers and Lock’s. All of that was in this smile of hers because of a piece of furniture, and my heart swelled at the sight of it.
I sniffed in a breath. “You’re into this nesting thing now, aren’t you?”
She eyed me. “How the hell do you know about nesting?”
“I saw an article about it at the doctor’s office when I went with you and Jill.”
“Nesting is real, and it’s here to stay. Miller’s eyes now glaze over when I start with how many blankets the baby might or might not need, which bottle warmer is more efficient, blah, blah, blah-di-blah-blah.”
“On that note, where’s the crib?”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re over here.”
We moved through the rocking chairs into the crib area.
“We saw this one online and really liked it.” Her fingers curled over the rail of a dark wood sleigh bed–style crib. Blue-and-yellow fluffy bedding accented the piece, which was trimmed with a matching quilted panel all around. A small stuffed gray elephant and a brown velvety dachshund stuffed animal had their arms around each other in one corner.
Something crimped in my chest.
Jill would be giving this baby life. And after it was born, that baby would be in this crib in Grace and Lock’s house. What was that going to be like for Jill?
My gut clenched. I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to share that with her, make it better—whatever it was going to feel like. It might not be all good. Who the fuck knew?
“Boner, you like it?”
“What?”
“The crib, hon. We don’t know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl, so I figure, this design is a good neutral, not feminine but not too plain.”
“You don’t want to know yet, do you?”
“There are so few true surprises in life anymore, and that is surely one of them—if not, the best. We want that surprise.” The edges of her lips quivered slightly. “We need it.”
I slung my arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “I know you do.” I gripped the wooden rail of the crib. “I like it. It’s a good crib.”
I wanted that kind of surprise, too.
I wanted to feel Jill’s hand in mine, to go to sleep with the sound of her even breathing in my ear and the weight of her relaxed body in my arms. I wanted to hear her laughter ring within the walls of my house, to eat good food with her, to have Becca throw her toys around my living room and make a mess and hear her cry or laugh down the hallway.
What would that feel like, look like on an everyday basis? I didn’t know, and I fucking wanted to know.
I wanted to feel it in every corner of my house, in every corner of my soul.
An urge to see Jill overtook me.
Spending time with her, just the two of us, had been proving to be a challenge. She had to live at Rae’s house and take care of her. Plus, she had Becca. With Tania working late hours of the day and night to get her potential store organized while also going through Wreck’s shit, Tania’s availability to Becca-sit and Rae-sit had been rare the past couple of weeks. Then, I was working at the shop, going on runs through North Dakota and Wyoming, checking in on our operations.
Jill and I had been a bunch of stolen moments.
And still, those stolen moments had been better than any random fucking where me and whoever it was would get off. I’d zip up, she’d clean up, and we’d eventually stumble our separate ways.
Each and every time Jill and I had been together, I was filled with a new hunger, a new desire, a more urgent need demanding to be satisfied again and again and again. It wasn’t only a release, a consumer necessity.
Shit, Jill and I hadn’t even had sex yet—like real-fucking-penetration-of-prime-body-parts sex.
I fucking needed to fuck my woman already, for fuck’s sake.
“Grace, I need your help with something.”
“Ohhhhh, really? Must be important for you to actually ask me for a favor.”
“Very fucking important.”
“Will you stop cursing in here?”
“Are you gonna fucking help me?”
“Boner!” She pinched me again.
“Cut that out!”
“DELIVERY!”