“Better than expected. She said she’ll move out so we can start our newlywed life in a house.”
Rebel’s face scrunches up. “Just like that? That’s suspicious.”
“Nah, she’s not like that. She knows it’s my house and she’s ready to move on.”
“Hm.”
“Aren’t you happy we’ll have our own space?” I inquire, annoyed by what she’s choosing to focus on.
“It’s a bit weird moving into a house you shared with another woman,” Bell pouts.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet. “Here’s my card. Change whatever you want. Sheets, carpets, plates, whatever, okay? I want you to feel like it’s your home and to enjoy living in it.”
A smile overtakes her face as she reaches for the card. “Alright.”
*
It’s been a depressing two days. My boy is further from me than he’s ever been in his short little life. The day after they leave for Phoenix with that annoying fucker, I go back to the house by myself to check on the state of things and to change the locks as Rebel insisted.
The first thing that hits me is how empty it all looks without DJ’s colorful toys everywhere. I walk around for more than twenty minutes, trying to find an item they forgot to pack, so I could have something of his.
Fuck, why didn’t I think of that earlier?
I don’t want to remember the last fight Marissa and I had in this room or the fact that she’s filing for child support, so I throw myself on the couch and grab the laptop, hoping to distract myself by replying to a few email inquiries while I wait for the locksmith.
The browser opens to Marissa’s email. I guess she forgot to log out before she left. One of the email subjects catches my eye, and I start reading.
Chapter 11
Emails
From: Marissa Johnson
To: Randy Hawkins
Date: 10:45 AM, January 15, 2011
Subject: Checking in
Dear Hawk… or should I say Randy?!?!?! :D :D
LOL sorry!
Your name caught me off guard. You’re this mean-looking bald biker… I see why you didn’t wanna tell me.
Squid came to see me and DJ and he told me all about the rescue mission and I was so relieved to hear you were okay (apart from the damage B&B did to your leg and ribs, yikes). :(
He said you would have to do at least a month of PT and rehab and that you’d go crazy so he gave me your card and claimed you’d like to hear from me, which I wasn’t so sure about. Then I figured I’d write you an email - it seems the least invasive way to contact someone, right? And since it’s your work email, maybe you won’t even check it until you’re back at the office.
So… how are you doing? Are you as lost and confused as I was once I was out of that room, or are you (with your cop background) handling things better?
I feel like I was on some crazy, adrenaline-fueled autopilot for those first 24 hours, and then, after your brothers dropped me off at home, I just ran out of steam.
I think I slept for like 7 hours straight - hasn’t happened to me in around six months, so there are some benefits to formula feeding, I guess!
I already thanked Squid for the protection detail, but I want to thank you as well. I’m suddenly so SCARED of everything. Having your friends guarding the house has been the only reason I’ve been able to sleep at night.
Maybe the illusion of safety is why I've gone back to my ex's house even though we're not together anymore. Not that I had anywhere else to go, LOL. Your club did offer to take us in, but I felt it was too much of an imposition, especially since they were on their way to rescue you.
