Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“A pain?” Levee asked, shooting me a smirk. “Honey, we’ve had gangs, organized crime, drive-bys, shootouts, car chases, stalkers… what am I missing?” he asked, addressing the others.
“Yakuza,” Eddie said.
“Right. And I’m sure we’re missing something else. The point,” Levee went on, “is this is just another week in the clubhouse. Don’t sweat it.”
The casual way they all acted about that was comforting. At least I didn’t feel like a burden.
“I was thinking I could maybe cook for everyone. To show my thanks.”
“You don’t like my cooking?” Eddie asked, voice so heartbroken that my own hurt.
“What? No! This is amazing.”
“Then why are you trying to steal my gig?”
“Oh, I didn’t…”
“The kitchen is Eddie’s domain, except on the rare occasion that he’s sick or busy,” Velle explained. “It’s how he shows love.”
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to step on your toes. I just wanted to do something to—”
“You don’t have to thank us,” Coast cut me off. “We’re not even doing anything.”
They were.
He, especially, was.
But they clearly didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. And who was I to push it?
“How about I do the cleanup?” I asked Eddie after we all finished eating, leaving the sink overflowing with dishes, pots, and pans. “The cook shouldn’t have to clean.”
“You’re not gonna give up until you get a task, are you?” he asked, whipping off his apron.
“No.”
“Alright, lil’ mama. Load the dishwasher if you must. I’m gonna go see if I can make that baby of yours laugh too.”
She was currently giggling as Dixon pretended to bite her feet in the living room.
It was actually pretty sweet how a bunch of rough-and-tumble men were completely fascinated by a little baby. Even the standoffish ones who didn’t want to engage with her directly—Caymen and York, in particular—sat back and watched with pinched brows. Like they were trying to figure something out.
As for Lainey, well, she was gobbling up the attention. My little girl sure seemed to love the spotlight. It was something I couldn’t have seen so clearly without bringing her to the clubhouse.
I listened to them talk to her, her hooting and cooing back at them as I loaded the dishwasher, feeling a strange sort of rightness in my heart that I hadn’t anticipated.
I’d figured that staying at the clubhouse would be awkward at best. That I would feel like an outsider. That I would mostly only be around to sleep because I would be avoiding the men who surely didn’t want to share their home with a single mom and an infant.
I’d never been so happy to be wrong in my life.
I knew, logically, the novelty of a baby would wear off. And, yeah, there were going to be loud parties and half-naked women around. But I was oddly okay with that.
This was so different from any life I’d known before. But there was something beautiful about it, too. The brotherhood, the love.
I’d never been around large families, but I’d always devoured movies and shows about them, loving their dynamic, the way you always had someone to talk to, to rely on.
It had only ever been me and my mom.
And now, me and my daughter.
It was nice to cosplay part of a big found family for a while.
By the time the dishes were done, Coast was making a bottle for a sleepy Lainey.
“Here, let me take her.”
“Make us some coffee then meet us upstairs,” he suggested, resting the side of his face against Lainey’s head. It was such a sweet, soft thing to do. And it made my heart tug hard.
“Will do,” I agreed.
When I got up there, Coast was on the bed, Lainey had finished her bottle, and she was snoozing in the crook of his arm.
With his free hand, he patted the space beside him.
And I wasted no time joining him.
Them.
And there was that little feeling again.
The rightness of it.
The heart tug.
“Coast?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“How are you so good with kids?”
Coast exhaled hard; a muscle ticked in his jaw.
I didn’t think he was going to tell me.
But then, as he absentmindedly ran a finger over Lainey’s soft, pudgy hand, he did.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Coast
“Ask me again about the tattoo.”
“The tally marks?” Zoe asked, glancing up from Lainey to look at me.
“No.”
“The arrows?”
“Yeah?”
“What do the arrows mean?”
“There are fifteen of them,” he said. “Each one represents one kid.”
“Kid? What kids?”
“The ones I raised. Temporarily.”
“Did you come from a large family?”
“No. No, it was just me and my parents.”
“I don’t understand then.”
“My parents were—are—a bunch of losers. Never kept a job for long. Longest was probably when he was a driver. But there was no money, so we went everywhere with him, just staying out of sight if we were anywhere near the businesses. But he was always mouthing off to bosses or saying offensive shit to coworkers. Think we spent the first twelve years of my life nearly homeless.