I’m living in his home, wearing his cut and ring, and I’ve adopted his son, while he adopted my daughter.
Everything happened so fast, and yet, it felt right.
I shake my head and look down at the work and try to calculate when I can get the missed lessons in with our classes, just so they don’t fall further behind, preferably before my munchkins come in, and hopefully, I can keep my mind off my husband, who, unfortunately, even after five months, I struggle to be apart from.
***
“Bye, Mrs. Lee,” several kids say as they walk out with Mrs. Trivers, and I grin and wave bye to the kids while my two stay seated, coloring until I’m ready to leave.
Mrs. Lee, damn, it still sounds weird.
I shake my head. I still limp, so taking the kids outside isn’t possible yet. Parents have checked in after hearing about my accident, which has helped, but until walking is pain-free, this is my routine.
“Mama?” Caleb calls as I begin to pack everything up, and I look at my boy with a raised brow, “Is Uncle Ace still mad? Will he come around today?”
I wince, “I’m not sure, baby,” and he sighs but nods.
Uncle Ace went from fun-loving to grumpy, and no one knows why. One morning, he came back from a run, grabbed a coffee, and then headed to the club to tell Doc how it went and next thing, his bike was scratched badly, and he was in a foul mood.
Honestly, I’ve never seen him so mad. I miss my fun-loving friend. Worse, he’s started hanging around Abby Hill, whom Rose called the meanest of the mean—which I’ve witnessed—and now I’m worried about him, though he has apparently found a new waitress who apparently doesn’t like him, so I guess that is something.
Swallowing at the look of disappointment on my kids’ faces, I grab my bag and say, “Come on, kiddos, grab your things and let's get home.”
They both nod and do as I ask before rushing towards me, and I smile softly at them as we walk out of my classroom, then guide them slowly towards the exit, my leg aching from standing for most of the day making me wince with each step.
I think a nice, hot, relaxing bath sounds good right about now.
***
I sigh as I sink into the tub and close my eyes, trying not to worry, though I can feel it swirling deep inside.
The kids are in bed, which took a lot of work, yet my husband isn’t home.
Lyra still can’t cope when Alex is gone, and I haven’t heard from him since we got home—he said he'd be late but I didn’t think it would be this late.
It’s the first time since everything happened that he’s stayed late at the garage, but I’m trying to breathe through my anxiety, even though I feel like I’m suffocating without him.
I keep telling myself we need to go about our days like normal again, though it's hard to really feel that way when my kids cried for half an hour because he wasn’t home yet before bed.
“Well, this is something I could really get used to coming home to,” Alex rasps from the door, and I physically relax for the first time all day, the tension in my shoulders dropping as I let out a breath, but I don’t open my eyes, only smile.
“Did you check on the kids?” I ask with a whisper, and he hums, “Yes,” before stating, “Lyra is zonked with my shirt you gave her, and Caleb is sleeping on her floor.”
I smile slightly but nod, not surprised Caleb snuck into her room.
“I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t here by the time you got back from school, darling,” he husks, and I whisper, “You have a job to do, Alex, we have to get back to normal. There isn’t any danger, I know we’re safe.”
“Don’t care, you weren’t ready for this, but fucking Thunder crashed his bike again, and Tank is at the hospital tonight,” he sighs, and I look his way in shock, my eyes wide, my mouth parted.
“Is he alright?” I gasp, and he nods with a sigh as he removes his cut, placing it on the counter, then removes his shirt, hisbody coming into view, my eyes going to the tattoos, mine and Lyra’s name to be precise, like always.
When I first saw them, I think I was in shock, but when I realized they were real, I sobbed.
He claimed us, despite my messed-up head with my past, he claimed us, and I realized that day that I claimed him too.
His name is tattooed over my heart, something I got with him holding my hand, and the kids are on my calf.
“He’s alright,” he says, “the idiot was trying to get Ace to laugh but didn’t see the fucking gate, he went flying over his handlebars, which were bent, and of course Ace is still in a foul mood, but I have no idea why, and he’s even cut mama off, completely breaking her.”
