We all waited for her to protest, most official people didn’t like our club dynamics and would kick up a fuss, but she nodded slowly, her expression considering. “If that makes you more comfortable, sure.”
“Thanks,” Axel agreed, gesturing her through the clubhouse filled with bikers and toward the back. “Brewer here will escort you while Zero– Ah, I mean Elias, calls Prez.”
I was still contemplating what the hell was going on when Axel smacked the back of my head. “Snap out of it and call Prez,” he demanded. “You aren’t talking to a social worker without legal representation present.”
“What the hell am I supposed to tell him?” I hissed. “I don’t have kids! I don’t know why the hell she’s here!”
“Which is why he needs to be here. Call. Him,” he growled.
“I’ll call him,” Rooster offered. “Give the man a minute to think.”
Thankfully, Prez wasn’t far. He’d moved out when he got with his old lady. They’d tried to make it work living in the clubhouse because he didn't think he could trust the crew to behave if he wasn’t there to watch over us, but even I knew the clubhouse wasn’t a place to raise a kid. His daughter deserved better. He moved to a safe neighborhood nearby, and was at the clubhouse in less than ten minutes when Rooster told him the social worker was here to speak to me and no one could figure out why.
He strode into the clubhouse in jeans and a t-shirt, not his normal business attire since it was a weekend, his vest with his president patch clear on the front of it. He gave me a long look, probably taking in my panic and confusion, and jerked his chin in the direction the social worker had been taken.
“Let’s go.”
I followed him, feeling like my heart was in my throat. I still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t here to tell me I had a kid somewhere out there I didn’t know about. I wasn’t sure what the hell I’d do with that if it were true. I wasn’t a kid person. Hell, I still lived at the clubhouse even in my mid thirties. It was convenient when I was too wasted to drive.
The social worker had been set up in church. She’d been given a bottle of water and looked a little more nervous when she turned to face Wyatt, her polite smile looking forced instead of natural like it had been before.
“Mr. Lawson.”
“Mrs. Packman,” Prez replied tersely.
“Clark,” she corrected. “I’m divorced.”
Something like approval flashed across Prez’s face before he urged me forward, both of us sitting at the large round table facing the social worker.
“I’m sorry, I’m just catching up to speed. Can you tell me why you’re here?” Prez asked.
I held my breath, waiting for the worst, but her reply didn’t make any sense.
“I’m here regarding Jasper and Isla Reed.”
The names didn’t ring a bell, so I waited for her to continue.
“They’re your cousin Hannah Fletcher’s children. Their mothers were recently in a tragic accident, leaving both children orphans in need of a home. We’ve spoken to members of your family, as blood relations are our first choice when it comes toplacing children, but thus far have been unable to find someone to take them in.”
Hannah… I had a cousin named Hannah, but I hadn’t seen her since I was a teen. My parents kicked me out the minute I turned eighteen in hopes that homelessness would scare me straight and I’d come crawling home ready to act like they wanted me to. It never happened. I joined the club and Tank helped me get the funds to get my electrician’s license and I never looked back. None of my family ever reached out, and I wasn’t interested in catering to their conservative views, so I lost touch with cousins over the years.
My brows snapped together. “Hold on. Did you say mothers? As in two?”
The social worker nodded solemnly. “Yes, Hannah was married to Teresa Reed. The relationship caused her to be estranged from her family. Both women were young, they didn’t have a will in place, so we attempted to rehome the children with their immediate family. Terea’s family, unfortunately, passed when she was younger, and Hannah’s family–”
“Wanted fuck all to do with a lesbian’s kids,” I answered, then winced when I realized I’d spoken out loud. “Sorry.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, but the annoyance on her face didn’t seem to be directed at me and my foul language. “Unfortunately, that’s the vibe we’ve gotten as well. We’ve tried everyone in the family eligible to take in two kids, but none have expressed any interest. You’re the last family member on our list.”
My face twitched as I wrestled with my emotions. On the one hand, I felt for the kids. My family didn’t die, but they may as well have with the way they cut me out of their lives. Feeling like I was all alone in the world wasn’t pleasant. I got lucky that Tank noticed me hanging around and let me prospect way before I was of age to make sure I had a roof over my head.
But…
I wasn’t father material. I’d spent almost half my life at the clubhouse, living and working only for myself. As a small town electrician, I wasn’t rich by any means, and domesticity wasn’t my idea of a good time. I couldn’t be who those kids needed.
Feeling like an asshole, I asked, “What happens if I say no?”
Prez gripped my shoulder, squeezing supportively, and when I shot him a glance over my shoulder, his smile was understanding. Plenty of the guys in the club were turning out to be family men, but I wasn’t sure that was me. I usually only watched the kids if they were at the clubhouse and it wasn’t just me.
