“Hey, girl, we’re going to fall out if you touch my man’s balls,” Bronwyn warns me, but there’s a glint in her eye. Then she grins. “But in the spirit of girl solidarity, I’ll make him go without tonight.”
“What?” Short rounds on his wife.
She’s unrepentant. “What? It’s only fair. You made it so Freak can’t perform, and tonight is Trixie’s celebration. It’s her you hurt.”
This time both of his hands brush over his head. “Aww, fuck, Trix. I’m so damn sorry. But it was the only way to make him stop. He’d have killed someone…”
“Short, stop,” I start giggling. “I’m fuckin’ with you. But,” I chase all mirth from my face and put on my best schoolmarmishexpression, “You touch my man’s balls again, and I’ll be coming for you.”
“Who’s talking about balls? Hey, babe. Don’t know how the fuck you snagged Freak, not sure if I should congratulate or commiserate with you.” Rattler plants a sedate kiss to my cheek.
“Hey, she’s here. The woman of the hour. Our very own hero, the woman who walked through hell for the club, and when she came out, as an encore she tamed the beast.” Tempest walks up and goes to put his arm around me.
“Ribs!” Bronwyn shouts.
One by one all the brothers come up to congratulate me, and have Knight running ragged, as they ply drinks on me. Not a few mention they’re going to miss me, reminiscing about, apparently some of the best sex and blow jobs they’ve had. I begin to be grateful they’re getting it all off their chests now, while Freak’s not about.
“Hey, what are we missing?” Ace appears with Trip in tow. Trip’s holding on tight to a piece of paper. “Show it to your daddy, little cuz.”
Short spins around, picks up his son and plants him on the bar stool next to his mom. “What you got there, buddy?”
Trip passes over a picture he’s drawn of Short, Bronwyn and him together. It’s amazing, so detailed it almost looks like a photograph.
“That’s so good, kid,” Short tells him, and when he raises his gaze to Bronwyn, I see he’s got tears in his eyes. Then he shakes his head. “Thanks, Ace, for watching him.”
Trip’s talent is drawing. Ace’s is his intelligence. As he looks around, he tilts his head to one side, and asks, “What are you all celebrating?” His eyes become slits. “And where’s my dad?”
I sigh. “Your dad started his celebrations a little early. He’s sleeping it off.”
Ace waves his hand in circles, indicating he wants more.
Suddenly, irrationally concerned Ace might have reservations, even though he’d seemed okay with it last night, I hesitate before adding, “I’m now officially your dad’s old lady.”
All eyes are on him as we wait for his reaction. Ace seems stunned. For a moment he does nothing. Then, he pumps his fist in the air. “Yes!” He launches himself at me, only just stopping when he remembers my sore ribs. He settles for placing his hands on my arms. “Trix, does that mean I can now really call you mom?”
Pippa leans in and speaks quietly into my ear so that only I can hear, “That kid’s so getting the best birthday party ever.”
But I can’t take the words in. I can’t even speak. The tears are clogging my throat. All I can do is pull Ace in close to me, and give him my answer without using words.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
FREAK
Why have I got drummers drumming in my head?Christ, I’m a wreck. Even opening my eyes hurt, but when I’ve forced the lids to lift and my pupils start to focus, I see I’m in Trixie’s room. Alone.
As it all comes back to me, I realise I’ve let her down. Again. I’d meant to come back and celebrate with my old lady. But one drink turned into two, then each brother wanted to share a round. That I’d stayed was down to them having just voted to let me stay in the club, and, after putting me through their razing, had agreed for me to claim Trixie. Overly grateful, I’d drunk with them all. I can’t remember a time when I’d been so wrecked.
I deserve every throb of my aching head. Pulling myself into a sitting position, a wave of nausea goes through me, but I fight it back.Trixie must fucking hate me.She’d have been worried sick when I was in church, and I didn’t even have the decency to let her know that I wasn’t dead, or sent out bad.
Fuck. If she’s left me already, I’ll never live this down. Would this be an entry in the Guinness Book of Records? Shortest time ever for having an old lady?I’ve got to find her, apologise.Butfirst, needs must, I’ve got to piss like a racehorse. Then, as I stand, I get another reminder, a twinge from my balls, which a gentle exploration with my hands down my pants, shows me aren’t too swollen.I’ll get Short back for that.After, of course, I make things up with my old lady.
Going down the hallway, I enter the shared bathroom, grateful to have it to myself, and now able to give a visual examination, find neither my dick nor balls have turned purple. Maybe I’ve still got a chance to sire more kids.Kids?Glancing at myself in the mirror, I wonder where than thought had come from. Ace, as far as I was concerned, was an accident, and while I’d not been so positive about it at first, a happy one as it turned out. Before he’d come along, I’d never seen myself as a parent.
Would Trixie want kids?And what would I do if she did?
I watch as the lips of my reflection curve. I’d give them to her. Maybe just the one, but I’ll try to provide anything my old lady wants. After what that motherfucker of a husband did to her, she deserves the world, and the second chance at a relationship that I’m going to give her.
I may be rough around the edges, may have the looks that civilian women want to hide themselves and their kids from, but for her, I’ll try to be better.
