Only one.
Texting meHappy Birthday.
***
7 Months Later
I smirked as Dad stalked across the hospital room while Mom pushed through another contraction.
“Fucking give her something for the pain,” he snarled.
She chuckled, “I don’t want it.”
He narrowed his eyes on her as he stopped and stared at her, “No, but I fucking need you to take it. I can’t handle seeing you in pain.”
She rolled her eyes.
He growled, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
She looked at him, then she looked at me, “Take him somewhere. Please?”
I giggled, “You really think he’d leave you right now? You’re mental.”
She giggled.
And then fourteen hours later, after Mom made them give Dad something to calm his ass down after she went through a bad contraction and Dad grabbed a spare belly band and threatened to choke the doctor out if he didn’t give her something, she gave birth to my little brother.
Gage Isiah Nichols was eight pounds and nine ounces, and twenty-one inches long.
And the racket he was making, Dad smirked and said, “Havoc. He’s Havoc.”
Mom growled.
Dad smirked.
They gave Gage the middle name Isiah after my Uncle Xavier.
He was my mom’s brother and the reason she met my dad.
It was fitting.
***
Age 19
And over the next two years... when I did get to see him, it was only during club functions.
Those mesmerizing, mossy-colored eyes of his looked back at me with so much longing.
I could feel it.
But every time I tried to take that step toward him, that look would vanish.
And in its place... cold indifference.
Yes, in my heart, I was taken.
But my mind was screaming at me that shit wasn’t right.
