Page 131 of 12 Months of Mayhem

I laugh, a harsh sound that echoes through the unfinished room. “Real mother? You gave up that title when you walked out on her. Remington’s been more of a mother to Birdie than you ever were.”

“She’s not her mother!” Meredith shrieks, her face contorting with rage. “I am! And I want to see my daughter!”

I step closer, towering over her. “You listen to me carefully,” I growl, “you stay the fuck away from Birdie. You stay away from Remington, from Beaux, from all of us. If I so much as catch a glimpse of you near my family, I’ll make sure those people you’re running from look like saints compared to what I’ll do to you.”

Meredith’s eyes widen with fear, but there’s a glint of something else there too, defiance. “You can’t keep me from her.”

I turn to leave, my boots crunching on the debris-strewn floor. The tension in the air is thick enough to choke on, and I can feel Meredith’s eyes burning holes in my back.

“This isn’t over, Rex,” she calls out. “You can’t just erase me from Birdie’s life. I’m her mother, whether you like it or not.”

“Fucking watch me,” I yell over my shoulder before striding out of the room and away from her. Each step away from her feels like shedding a poisonous skin, but the anger still simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

I inhale deeply, trying to clear the stench of Meredith’s desperation from my nostrils. The construction site is quieter now with most of the workers having packed up for the day.

I hear her before I see her, Meredith’s frantic footsteps echoing behind me as she tries to follow. “Rex, please!” she calls out, pleading. “We’re not finished!”

I don’t turn around, don’t give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her existence. Instead, I keep walking, my eyes fixed on my Harley gleaming in the twilight.

Suddenly, Coffey materializes from between the construction equipment. His massive frame blocks Meredith’s path, a human wall of muscle. I hear her gasp of surprise, followed by the dull thud of her body colliding with Coffey’s immovable form.

“That’s far enough, darlin’,” Coffey rumbles with a thin veil of false sweetness.

“Coffey,” I call out. “Make sure she understands that if she comes near me, this clubhouse, or my family again, there won’t be a second warning.”

“You got it, Prez,” Coffey replies, his tone leaving no doubt that he’ll carry out my orders.

“Let me go, asshole!” she screams at him.

“By all means, struggle. It makes it more fun for me,” Coffey chuckles back at her.

“Let me go!” she bellows again.

“You club whores never learn, do ya? When my president says it’s time for you to go, you’ve got to go.”

Meredith continues to yell trying to get my attention, but I leave her to Coffey.

I make my way over to my bike, and swing one leg over. The familiar leather seat a comfort after the tension of the last hour. The engine roars to life beneath me, drowning out whatever desperate pleas Meredith is trying to make. I don’t look back as I peel out of the lot, gravel spitting from beneath my tires.

The wind whips against my face as I navigate the darkening streets of New Orleans. My mind races faster than my bike, replaying the confrontation with Meredith. The anger, the disgust, and the fleeting moment of pity all swirl together in a toxic cocktail that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I try to shake it off, focusing instead on the road ahead and the promise of home. Of Remy’s arms around me, of Beaux’s laughter, of Birdie’s smile. My family. The one I’ve built, the one waiting for me.

Chapter Three

Remy

I swear, if I have to chase this little girl around the house one more time, I’m gonna lose my damn mind. My feet are killing me, and this baby feels like it’s doing somersaults in my belly.

“Birdie Reed, you get your butt back here right now!” I holler, waddling as fast as my pregnant self can manage down the hallway. The pitter-patter of her bare feet echoes off the walls, accompanied by high-pitched giggles.

“I don’t want to wear a dress, Remy!” she squeals, ducking into the living room.

I pause, leaning against the doorframe to catch my breath. The ridiculous pink monstrosity of tulle and sequins dangles from my hand, taunting me with its frilly layers and plastic tiara. How the hell did I let her talk me into buying this thing in the first place?

“Come on, sweetheart,” I try for a gentler approach, rubbing my swollen belly. “Don’t you want to be the prettiest princess at the Halloween parade?”

Birdie’s blonde curls peek out from behind the couch, her blue eyes wide and mischievous. “Why can’t I dress up like you and daddy? I wanna be a biker.”

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