“What… um, I thought we were going to be eating dinner?” Marnie asks, coming over to the table, a confused look on her face.
“We are, but right now, she’s enjoying the deliciousness that is a root beer float,” I tease.
“Oh! Those are good, but have you ever had a peppermint bark milkshake?” she questions, her hand smoothing Becca’s hair back. “Because those aremyfavorite things in the world to drink.”
“Where can you get those?” I query, adding that information to my mental bank of all things Marnie.
“Chick-fil-A,” she replies, smirking at me knowing where my mind just went. “They only have it during the holidays, of course, but they’re a guilty pleasure. I should probably try to figure out how to make them myself,” she muses.
“We’re back!” Colt yells as he and Preston shoulder their way through the front door of the clubhouse. They’re both laden down with multiple boxes of pizza, and I bite back a chuckle seeing that each of them has a huge plastic sack around their wrist.
“Oh, let me help,” Marnie says as she rushes over to them.
In a matter of minutes, the brothers who are here are piling their plates high with pizza, breadsticks, and wings, while Marnie rushes around grabbing napkins and drinks. Becca’s plate is an eclectic mix; she has three small pieces of plain cheese pizza, four drumsticks, and two breadsticks, as well as some carrot sticks and a small container of ranch dressing on the side.
“Are you going to be able to eat all of that?” I ask, worried that she’s going to make herself sick.
“I told her to eat what she could,” Marnie replies, as she walks toward us with drinks in her hand. She and Becca have sodas while I have a much-needed beer. “There’s plenty so if she finishes all of it and wants more, she can have it. But we did alotof taste testing at Esther’s today, so she might be full of cookies.”
Becca giggles as she picks up the first piece of pizza and takes a small bite. “I have room,” she says as she pats her belly with her free hand.
“Well, like Marnie said, whatever you can eat is fine, Becca,” I state, reinforcing what my ol’ lady told our girl. “Because neither one of us wants you to get a tummy ache from trying to eat it all, okay?”
She solemnly nods before dunking a carrot stick into the cup of ranch. She crunches away and I realize that the foster mom who took care of her these past few months has done us a majorfavor by introducing her to her veggies. From what I’ve seen so far, even though it’s only been a few days, she readily eats both vegetables and fruit. Considering that most kids I’ve ever known are somewhat resistant, it makes me happy that Mrs. Talbot took such good care of her until we found out she existed. Granted, I know Holly’s kids enjoy them as well, and I’m sure that Esther and Paul played a part in that phenomenon.
“What do you want for Christmas, Becca?” Marnie asks.
“What do you mean?” she replies. “Christmas is just another day, that’s what Aunt Alice told me.”
Once again, rage toward my sister flares but I quickly tamp it down when I realize it’s highly probable that her parentsdidcelebrate with her, she was just too young when they died so she doesn’t remember.
Marnie glances at me and I give her a slight nod. “Well, actually, Christmas is a magical time, sweetie,” she starts. “It’s full of wonderful surprises and on Christmas Day, presents are exchanged.”
Becca shrugs then says, “But I don’t need anything. I brought all my stuff from Mrs. Talbot’s house.”
“So, there’s not a dolly you want, or a game you’ve played at school you’d like to have?” I ask. I’m so over my head right now, I don’t know how to handle it. “Maybe some books?”
Her eyes widen and she claps her hands. Unfortunately, she has a carrot stick in them covered with ranch, so it splatters all over her, Marnie, and the table. I watch in horror as she covers her head, shaking like a leaf as she sobs out, “I’m sorry, I’ll be good,” over and over again.
Before either Marnie or I can react, Prophet reaches her side, a wet paper towel in his hands. “Hey there, pretty girl, are you trying to copy me?” he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle considering what he does for the club. I glance at him and see he’s got speckles of ranch dressing in his beard right now and mentally thank him for calming Becca down, since she’s now giggling at him instead of being scared we’re going to smack her.
While Marnie and I haven’t gone in-depth as far as disciplining Becca goes, both of us are adamant that a spanking will be a last resort given what my niece has already endured from my sister. And something as accidental as what happened willneverbe punished at all.
As the club’s enforcer, Prophet’s a bonafide badass, complete with the perpetual scowl, muscles, and tattoos. Yet, this grumpy asshole is crouched next to my girl, his tone softer than I’ve ever heard before as he cleans her up while Colt runs over with several more wet towels and starts cleaning off the table after he gives Marnie one so she can wipe off her face.
Data mutters, his voice low enough that neither Marnie nor Becca hear, “Say the word, VP, and I’ll ruin her life even more than I already have.” At my raised brows, he smirks. “Let’s just say that her legal troubles aren’t going to end any time soon. However, I have a few… contacts, yeah, that’s the word I want, who have no problem physically assisting in her demise.”
I realize that this is a conversation we don’t need to have right here, so I stand and motion toward the bar, ostensibly to grab another beer since mine is almost gone. Once we’re far enough away, I state, “I don’t want her dead, Data. I mean, I do, but honestly, I want her to suffer for what she did to that little girl. She’s only been around for a short time and I’m willing to takea bullet for her, just like I would for Rebel’s kids, so it’s not just about her being my own flesh and blood.”
“Oh, we can make sure she gets regular attitude adjustments,” he murmurs, snickering. “That being said, I’ve been searching your brother’s social media accounts.” At my expression, he says, “I have my ways and you know it, Ash. I’ve pulled every picture of them with Becca, as well as any post they ever made concerning her. Figured she’d like that someday, y’know? Thought your ol’ lady could create a scrapbook or something for her to have, and she can always add on to it now that she’s here with us.”
“That’s a fucking brilliant idea,” I reply, slapping him on the shoulder as I grab my fresh beer and head back to the table.
CHAPTER
NINE
Becca
