“Brothers,” I say, leaning toward Trip. I cover his ears with my hands. “Keep it age-appropriate, please.”
“Aww, fuck, sorry kid,” Woody apologises.
While Rattler says, “Doubt he even knows what a butt plug is.”
Trip’s making his throaty grunting noise again, which I can’t do anything but interpret as a laugh. I just hope it’s because of the general mocking going around the table, and that he’s got no idea what the mirth is really about.
Just when I think the conversation has finished, Trixie moves to Paint, leans over him, and says in a stage whisper, “Sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to out you for your kink.”
“Bitch,” Paint snarls, but pulls her down onto his lap. He nuzzles her neck and says deceptively gently, “Guess who’s going to end up with something up their ass. One hint, babe, it ain’t going to be me.”
Pushing my now-empty plate away, I stand. “Hey, Trip, want to come see where I work?” I give a stern look at the men sittingaround the table. “And you lot, better start thinking about how to behave around a kid before Pippa spits Saint’s spawn out.”
Saint, who’s been laughing along with the rest, sobers quickly. “Good point, Short. She’ll kick everyone’s ass.”
“Jeez, why did you have to go and say that, Short?” Paint shudders.
“Bunch of fuckin’ pussies.” Rattler shakes his head. “We’re a fuckin’ one-percenter biker club, not nannies in a fuckin’ nursery.”
“Could have fooled me,” I toss over my shoulder as I lead Trip out. “Wasn’t it you playing with a toy motorbike?” I quickly leave before I hear what he calls me.
Another surprise awaits when I find Trip is interested in the shop and the work I’m doing. He watches me intently as I make adjustments to the bike I’m working on, then, without thinking, I turn on the engine and rev the throttle to check how it’s now firing. Realising my mistake, I quickly glance at him. Sure, he’s placed his hands over his ears as the noise resonates loudly, but other than that, it doesn’t seem to upset him.Maybe it’s just loud voices or people shouting?Thinking about it, that would make sense.
As I work, I talk to him, explaining exactly what I’m doing. After repeating the process of adjusting and checking, I’m happy the bike’s now running smoothly.
“That’s sorted. What do you think, buddy?”
Trip’s answer is to clap his hands.
My phone rings. I’m still grinning at Trip’s reaction as I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Bronwyn.
“Hey, darlin’. You doing okay?” She’s still at the hospital, and I hope nothing’s happened to upset her.
“I’m good. How’s Trip?” There’s a hesitancy in her voice, but I quickly reassure her, he’s been good, no meltdowns, and everything’s really a-okay.
She starts to excitedly explain the reason for her call. She’s found a therapist for Trip, and not only that, but an appointment’s already been made for later on today. She wanted to check the logistics with me, but of course, I’ve no problem with bringing him to meet her. I’m fucking over the moon she’s arranged something so quickly. Today’s shown me there’s more to Trip than we ever imagined, and it’s emphasised the need for having professional help so we can support him to the best of our ability.
“Short.” Just the way she says my name has me worrying. In the short time we’ve been together, it seems I’ve learned to read her.
“What is it?” I ask fast.
There’s a pause, then she asks, “How will I pay her?”
I chuckle and remind her by asking, “Are you, or are you not my ol’ lady?”
She hesitates, then responds, “Well, not really?—”
“Bron,” I say sharply. “You are to me. Which means I cover all of yours and Trip’s expenses. Won’t hurt me none, I assure you. I can afford it. And this is an opportunity we can’t pass up.”
We finish by confirming the time I’m to meet her at the hospital. Glancing at the clock after I’ve ended the call shows I’ve got to clean up and leave soon.
“Hey, Trip, come on. We’ve got to go meet your momma.”
