Floating (14 page)

Hanging on the walls is a disturbing mix of framed flower prints, posters advertising tractors, and housing a couple of floating shelves with duck figurines wearing hats. Really, I mean what the actual fuck? Flash back to the 50’s anyone?

Old number plates are screwed into the plasterboard walls, and the salt and pepper shakers are actually clear beer bottles with their labels removed and a few grains of rice added to the contents to stop the moisture.

The diner’s only saving grace is; if you look beyond all the gaudy décor, it is clean, cosy and its namesake Mo is one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. It didn’t hurt Priss works there gifting her megawatt smile, prettying up the place.

Honestly? I think half the men, probably more, who eat there actually come to stare at Priss.

I can’t tell you how many drinks have been spilt, pieces of cutlery dropped or extra helpings of gravy requested by the men of Blackwater when Priss is working. However, I can assure you it is far more frequent than when Mary, the token hundred and six-year-old, grumpy bat is on shift.

Pushing the door to Mo’s open, I see Tank storming my way and a fiercely angry Priss standing with her hands on her hips and a perma-scowl on her face. By the looks of things they have just got into, yet another argument. Tank calls it a discussion; it most certainly isn’t that, but whatever. Priss is on the receiving end of the huge man’s temper, once again.

Tank’s a complicated man; there is no other way to accurately describe him. He comes across happy-go-lucky, most of the time. It is only when you look deeper, notice the strain of his muscles and the momentary flickers of anger that flash through his eyes that you know there is a hell of a lot more to this man than the bullshit, surface level crap he feeds everyone.

Priss is a damn strong woman in my eyes, going head to head with a man that could, quiet simply, rip her limb from limb and not flinch at the ferocious glares he shoots her on leaving. Better her than me.

Nodding at me in passing, Tank takes one last look over his shoulder at Priss as he goes to leave and his face softens dramatically. I might not have believed you, if you told me that Tank has the capability to look remorseful. There is something going on with these two, for his anger to abate so quickly. Something I have every intention of getting to the bottom of.

Priss straightens and appears to be trying to get herself together. Her face is still tense and she looks more than a little apprehensive about him leaving. Not one to disappoint, nothing keeps Priss down for long, she snaps out of it in moments and flashes me a tired smile.

“Hey, chick. Give me a sec to tell Mo I’m taking of for the day and I’ll be right with you. I saved us the booth up the back, have a seat. I’ll bring out coffee and some of that peach pie you love.”

Nodding slowly, I ask, “Sure, that’d be great. You ok though, Priss? That looked pretty intense.”

Shrugging and giving me a brittle grin she replies with, “Meh. You know Tank; he gets the shits with me every second day. Today must have been the second day. Don’t worry about it. He’ll get over it. He just better hope I do or he’ll be coughing up his balls by breakfast.”

There is something about the way she says it, that has me not believing a word that comes out of her mouth. Deciding it is better to leave it, for now though, I make my way back to the booth and plonk down, throwing my purse onto the bench beside me. Glancing around, I see it is the same crowd as usual for one o’clock at the diner on a weekday. It is comforting that some things stay the same, after all the turmoil we’d been through lately.

In Blackwater the older population regularly comes in around eleven or twelve, leaving just before one. This makes room for the labourers, staff of the small businesses that operate nearby, and of course, members of Devil’s Spawn that work at Chasers, just around the corner.

I easily spot a woman that sticks out like implants on an eighty year old. Her back is to me, so I can’t see her face. What I can see of her causes the fine hairs on the back of my neck to stand up, my spine to tingle and my heart to race. Not in a good way, either.

Her long red hair is pulled back with a comb on either side of her crown. The blouse she is wearing is nearly see-through, thankfully she has enough sense to pair it with a black singlet. The woman’s purse is on the table in front of her, beside the half drank cup of coffee is expensive and way too ostentatious for her to be a resident of Blackwater.

As she turned her head slightly, I get my first look at her profile and scramble to my feet. I close the distance in seconds, making my way to the edge of her booth glaring down at her.

“Verity, what the fuck are you doing here?”

This isn’t happening. Let me be clearer. This. Is. Not. Fucking. Happening….

It has been nine years. I am no more ready to face my sister now, than I had been then. She has to know that. We haven’t spoken, communicated in any way, or set eyes on each other for closing in on a decade. I see no reason to change this in the next decade, either. She can NOT be stupid enough to think this will end in anything but tears.

My parents came to Blackwater as soon as Nate notified them I had been shot. They were horrified to hear the news, but didn’t seem surprised Nate was there with me. Their reaction was strange, at first, the lack of surprise, later I realised that it had given them some small amount of peace that someone who obviously cared for me had my back.

I never told them by a twist of fate, I ended up in the very same town Nate had been living in for seven years, now. They would only read too much into it, and that was something I was not willing to deal with. Mom believed in fate and all that crap. I just wasn’t in the market to buy.

A smirk graces Verity’s face, reminding me of all the times she’d gotten the same look before she fucked with me somehow.

“What? No hello, sister dearest, I’ve missed you, good to see you?” She has to be fucking kidding me. No, thinking on it she isn’t. Verity knows, without a doubt, she isn’t welcome, she is here for a reason, and that is what scares the absolute piss out of me.

Call it intuition. Call it instinct. Verity is not here to ensure herself of my wellbeing. She is not here to heal the breech or apologise for the past. Hell will freeze over and pigs fly before any of those are options. No, she is here to cause trouble. I know it; I feel it in my bones and it will be bad. Very bad.

Rolling my eyes, I place a clenched fist on the table leaning in slightly. “Sure, if that’s what you want. Hello, Verity. Now what the fuck are you doing here? Isn’t this a little low brow for you, to be seen in a place like this? I thought for sure, you would have landed a rich husband and be off whoring around spending his cash, by now. What, no luck?”

No matter what happened in the past, who I was, and the fact that I was nothing more than a doormat for her, when she saw fit to use me as such, that shit is not going to fly anymore. Verity can kiss my ass if she thinks I will lie down and get kicked like a dog. Nuh-uh, no fucking way.

Hissing out a breath, Verity sits up straighter at my statement. “For your information, Ron, I was married. Too bad I got tired of him so quickly. He would have been a good one to keep around. He really was very wealthy and decent to look at, always kept his pants zipped, too.” Chuckling softly she continues, “As for what I’m doing here, I’m looking to relocate. I had expected Mom and Dad would have told you that, by now. I guess you aren’t as important as you thought, if you weren’t included in the family phone tree for that announcement.”

My blood is boiling. I can feel it bubbling up in my veins, like molten lava waiting to explode. The alarming thought that she might seriously be considering moving to Blackwater sinks in, slicing through me in its wake. My brain is working overtime trying to discover her angle here. I just can’t find one.

Just as I’m about to let loose, finally do what I should have done years ago, and give Verity a piece of my mind, everything happens all at once. As horrific as it sounds, what happens next is like watching a car wreck in slow motion.

The diner’s door flies open, turning toward the sound I see Nate’s imposing frame fill the doorway. He doesn’t stay still for long; his strides eat up the distance in mere seconds.

At the same time Priss approaches us. I catch a glimpse of black hair, small feet, a hand held tightly in Priss’s. I gasp, struggling for air as he pokes his head out from behind her dress.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of him…

A little boy with big, wide hazel eyes like mine and Verity’s, a shock of messy black hair, wearing jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt, about eight or nine years old.

Then reality strikes. Why it didn’t hit me immediately, I’ll never know, it was so fucking obvious. He has to be eight or nine. Oh. My. God. No, no, no, this can’t be happening.

Flicking my eyes to Priss, I see her standing there mouth wide, gaping, looking between my sister, Nate, and the little boy still holding her hand. My thoughts are confirmed. She’s put two and two together and come up with the same answer as me.

Nate is just standing there, stoic, unmoving. He hasn’t said a word and his gaze is trained solely on the little boy that bears resemblance to someone he knows, so well. Recognition of who is standing before him is written all over his handsome face. I can’t place whether he’s happy, sad, or furious. I just don’t know.

Stepping back from the booth, I glance at the traitorous bitch, Verity, who’s currently smiling an evil smile, one she’s spent years perfecting and had many opportunities to use. I would know. Ninety percent of the time it was directed at me, exactly the same way it is now.

At any other time, if this was happening to any other person, I may have been able to see the humour in a situation like this. I mean, for fuck’s sake, really? This is all like a bad soap opera

Boy meets girl; boy and girl are friends first, that develops into more, boy cheats on girl with twin sister and quite obviously knocks her ass up, girl runs away, secret pregnancies, shootings, reunions, and the big reveal of said child. Volia, instant Daytime Emmy Award.

Jesus Christ! If I were watching this on TV, I would have turned it off and walked away, deeming it laughably dramatic and unrealistic. Sadly, this shit isn’t on TV and I can’t walk away. This is my fucking life and I have a decision to make.

One that will unquestionably be the hardest one I will ever need to.

One that will be even more difficult than walking away from Nate, all those years ago.

One that will make or break me… Permanently this time.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Nate

              Holy fucking shit!

This is fucking surreal. Staring into eyes I know, so well, set in the face of a little boy with pale skin, black hair that looks so young; so innocent.

It took a matter of minutes after Priss called, telling me Ronnie’s twin, Verity, was at the diner, for me to haul ass over there. I was only around the corner at Chasers doing some paperwork, anyway. But on hearing that, I was fucking out of there. I didn’t even bother telling any of the boys where I was headed, pulling my new SUV out of the parking lot with a squeal of tyres.

Catching sight of Ronnie immediately on entering the diner, I saw her leaning into Verity slightly, and Verity smirking in her sister’s face. One look at Ronnie’s posture told me I would need to thank Priss later for giving me the heads up. This shit would escalate quickly, especially with years of built up hostility on Ronnie’s part.

I didn’t notice at first, the boy was partially obscured by Priss who was standing a foot away from Ronnie. Seconds later his movement caught my eye. I fucking nearly died on the spot: rip my heart out, possible brain explosion, cease to function; fucking died.

The kid is the spitting image of me when I was younger. All except for the eyes, they are all Ronnie’s, beautiful, big, wide hazel eyes¸ so clear and trusting.

I refused to think of those eyes as the fucking cunt’s, who was sitting there watching all of us like we were fucking bugs under a microscope. It doesn’t matter if the boy came from her body, or not. Nothing that perfect could’ve been created by her, and if I didn’t need to acknowledge that fact, I wouldn’t.

The realisation that I created a child with that conniving bitch sickened me. Not the fact that I obviously had a son. That is something I had yet to process properly, but that fact could never sicken me. Kids were a gift: precious, born to be cherished and protected.

What makes me fucking sick to my stomach, bile churning violently in my gut, is that I had created this kid with someone as fucking twisted and vicious as Verity.

The betrayal I feel makes me livid. War rages inside me. I don’t know if I want to throttle her, or kill her on the spot. This bitch kept my kid from me. I missed his birth, his first smile, taking his first steps, birthdays, and his first day of school. I had missed all of it, and that cunt had taken it from me on purpose.

Barely controlled fury washes over me. A red haze creeps into my vision and I’m actually fucking scared I’m going to flip my fucking shit in front of my kid. My kid whose name I don’t know, who I’ve never met, and who is looking pretty confused with the situation he’s finding himself in.

A quiet clearing of a throat beside me jerks me from my daze, I glance down to see Ronnie crouching in front of the kid. My kid. Putting her hand out toward him, Ronnie says, “Hello, little man. My name’s Ronnie. What’s yours, sweetheart?” His head moves almost imperceptibly to look at his mother before answering. I would have missed it if I weren’t staring at him so intently. I haven’t though, and the look of fear that crosses his face fucking infuriates me, all over again.

His fingertips touch Ronnie timidly before he holds her hand in what looks to be a death grip. His voice is soft, shy even when answers. It is the complete opposite of the hold he has on Ronnie’s hand. “My name’s Kellen. Kellen Wyatt Burke. Are you why my daddy can’t live with me?”

What the FUCK?

Ronnie gasps and jerks sharply at the question, but she doesn’t let Kellen’s hand go. If anything she appears to hold it even tighter. Fuck me. The distraught expression on her face feels like a blade to my heart. Fuck that. A blade to the heart would hurt less. I’ll take that over seeing her like this any day of the week.

Just then the injustice of all this washes through me. Waves of grief, and despair assault me. My insides feel literally torn, as if they are ripping, bring clawed by the monster trying to get free. In this moment, I experience the crippling feeling of fear for the third time in my life.

The first time I felt like this, like I was being torn apart, was when Ronnie left me. The second was when I watched a bullet pass through her beautiful body, potentially taking the woman I loved. It almost took the woman I would do anything for. The woman I would happily give my life to save.

Not once, when my pathetic excuse for a father hit me, did I feel fear. More than a handful of times I’ve had a gun pointed in my direction, I’ve wrecked my bike twice, as well as taken on Tank in the ring at the clubhouse. I never felt an ounce of the fear I am now.

I know in this moment that I’ve lost her. I don’t need to look at her to know. I don’t need her to tell me to confirm it. I can feel it viscerally, painfully; there will be no coming back from this for us. I will lose her forever.

Blinking back the tears in her eyes, Ronnie smiles sadly at Kellen and rises from her crouch. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Kellen. I don’t know how to answer that question, sweetheart. I think that’s something you need to talk to your mom about.” He nods seriously at her suggestion. Turning to Priss, Ronnie adds, “Something’s come up, Priss. I’m going to have to get going. Catch up next week, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. I don’t expect her to either.

Before she can take off I grab her wrist, and drag her, yeah I have to pretty much drag her fucking ass, to the corner of the diner back near the storage room. Giving her arm a tug I force her to face me

“Listen to me, Ronnie, two minutes, Babe, that’s all I’m asking for before you take off, and freak the fuck out in private.” Her mouth purses, and her eyes narrow dangerously, but she doesn’t say a word, only nods at me briskly. “You fucking know, I knew nothing about this. Jesus, this is as much of a shock to me as it is to you. This doesn’t have to change anything between us though, Sunshine. I’m not going to bother denying Kellen’s my kid. It’s pretty fucking obvious he is; he looks just like me. That doesn’t mean shit when it comes to you and me though. I’d never fucking turn my back on him, now I know he exists, but fuck me, Baby, you have to promise me you aren’t gonna do anything stupid, like disappear on me.”

Her voice is barely a whisper when she speaks, but I hear every word loud and clear. “You have a son, Nate. You have a son with VERITY. How you can think I’ll stick around to watch you two play happy family and raise him, is fucking beyond me.” Shaking her head she continues, “What you two did years ago was one thing. This is something else altogether, something far bigger than just the two of you. You have a child to consider now. There is NOTHING between us anymore, as far as I’m concerned.” I try to stop her when she says that, but she keeps talking breaking my heart even more with each word.

I let her go on. This might be the last time she ever talks to me, after all. “You were kind enough to take care of me after I was shot. You thought it was safer for me to stay with you. You spent time with me trying to atone for whatever guilt you feel over what happened years ago, but that is all this was.” Fuck me. She actually believes that doesn’t she? “This is where that ends, though. I’m going to ask Kendall to pick up my stuff from your place and go home. You need to focus on your son. You need to talk to Verity and work out your shit for his sake. Most importantly, you need to stay away from me while you do that.”

Shaking my head rapidly, I disagree with her with every fibre my being. If she thinks I’m going to give up on her, on us, she’s fucking deluded. That is never going to happen. I won’t allow it.

Ronnie tries to pull away from me, and in doing so, tries to make me release her hand. I can’t let her go until I remind her how good it can be between us. It’s been years since I’ve tasted her, had her sweet tongue in my mouth; made her moan for me. My cock is hard just thinking about claiming her mouth. Not waiting a second longer, I slam my mouth to hers backing her up harder against the wall.

The kiss isn’t soft and gentle. It isn’t sweet and passionate. It’s filled with my hunger for her. My rising anger over the situation we’ve found ourselves in. It’s demanding, carnal, and violent even. Her lips will probably be bruised afterwards. I can’t help letting out a growl at thought of seeing her mouth swollen, darkened, marked by me. She lets out a little moan, and I deepen the kiss further. Fisting my hand in the back of her hair and tilting her head, I plunge my tongue further into the wet, hot recesses of her perfect mouth.

Ronnie gives as good as she gets. She has never been one to hold back. Even years ago, she met me in the middle from the very beginning, giving me everything she had to give. Every. Single. Time. Yanking her mouth from mine Ronnie uses her free hand, the one not currently up the back of my shirt roaming the bare skin on my back, to wipe her mouth. If she thinks that’ll erase that hot as fuck kiss, she’s going to be sadly mistaken.

She might have succeeded in breaking the moment, but I plan to make my intentions perfectly clear. God help her if she doesn’t listen, and understand where I’m coming from with this. I dip my head toward her, capturing her eyes, so I know she’s listening “Just as good as I remembered, Sunshine. You taste fucking delicious. That kiss ended too soon for my liking, but we’ll remedy that later. Mark my words, Ronnie; this is not DONE, not by a fucking long shot. You and me are gonna work this shit out, and we’re gonna do that together.” She looks like she wants to argue, but she’s a smart girl and keeps her mouth shut. “There’ll be no disappearing, no shutting me out, or trying to ignore me. I’m telling you right now, Ronnie. You are MINE. There won’t be a goddamn place you can run to that I won’t find you, and I will drag your ass back this time. We’re gonna talk, make some plans, decide where we go from here, but that shit will be done together, as a team, Babe.”

I decide it’s probably best to give her some choices regarding where we’re at, right now. I don’t want her to feel entirely out of control. Ronnie doesn’t do well if she feels cornered or left without options. “You want some space, I get that, and I’ll give it to you. Not much of it, but I’ll give you SOME. You’ve got two days, Sunshine. Get your head on straight, think about what you really want, deep down, Ronnie, not this surface shit because this fucked up situation has you tweaked.” I place both my hands on her shoulders and squeeze gently. “You try to do a runner, Ronnie, and you’ll answer to me. I’ll bring you back, and spank your gorgeous ass red if you think running’s the answer to all this shit. It’s not. I won’t go lightly on you, if you do, either. Your stuff can stay at my place because after the two days I’m giving you, I’m dragging your ass home with me. This is a fucking time out. You going to your place is a stopover, it’s not your home anymore. Your home is with me, not in that shitty little apartment you’re been existing in. You understand all that, Sunshine?” Leaning in I place my lips on hers. I go gently this time, hardly touching our mouths together, the feeling is more like a whisper, just enough to make my point that she’s mine.

I’m not giving her a chance to argue with me about all this, right now. She needs time to get her head together, and really think about what’s going to happen from here. She can try to resist me, it won’t work, but she can try. I plan on winning her over. However I have to do that, doesn’t fucking matter. I will do everything in my power to prove that we belong together. Failure is not an option I’m familiar with. I won’t start now.

Watching her walk away from me, her shoulders slumped forward, and her head hanging slightly, makes me want to run after her, and stop her from leaving. I want to hold her in my arms and tell her everything will work out. I know I can’t do that, right now. I need to find out why Verity has shown up, out of the blue, with my kid in tow. But, I’ll be damned if I don’t have to fight the urge with everything in me.

Walking back, and sitting in the booth across from Verity, I address Priss first. She’s been standing there the whole time watching over my boy. I saw her out of the corner of my eye when I was talking to Ronnie. She was standing like a sentry guarding its charge. It was almost as if she expected Verity to take off.

I nod in my son’s direction and give him what I hope is a warm smile. It’s surprising I can manage it, after the last ten minutes, but I do. I ask, “Priss, you think you can take Kellen, and get him one of those sundaes Lexi loves so much?” Looking at my son, I say, “You like sundaes, buddy? They make real good ones here, if you do.” He nods bashfully with a little grin on his face, tugging at Priss’s hand to get her attention.

Priss doesn’t look convinced by my request, but I know there is no way she will let Kellen hang around to hear what his mother and I have to discuss.

“Sure, Arrow. You want me to call Tank and get him to check on our girl?”