Page 17 of Blue

Well, fuck. Even his daughter doubted him. That was a kick in the teeth.

Running his hand across his forehead, the disappointment in his daughter’s tone traveled through the phone and pushed down on his chest. He’d let her down, he’d let River down, Blue, Angela, fuck himself. He’d failed them all. The pussyfooting around needed to fucking end.

“I’ll be home soon, and it’ll be fixed,” he promised.

Once he got off the phone with his kids and spoke to his own mother, he checked the time. Blue was definitely home—probably sleeping.

He could call her. She’d hate him for it. She wasn’t a morning person. Hell, he wasn’t either. The only time he saw this early was when he pulled all nighters. Like tonight—or was it today?

His lips curled up involuntarily at the idea of hearing her voice. She’d definitely tell him off. Especially if he woke her up.

But he’d get to hear her. He missed her voice, and his chest pinched. She might not have ridden on the back of his bike much, but once he had her on there, he knew it was where she belonged.

The machine felt as though it lacked something without her there. The long ride home would be infinitely better with her behind him. Closing his eyes, he recalled the heat of her body against his and her soft thighs against his own.

If he tried hard enough, he could almost feel a ghostly reminder of her. The real thing was infinitely better.

He had to win her over. He needed to get on the road soon, but one more call and he’d be on his way.

Unfortunately, that one wouldn’t be to Blue. He had nothing to update her on. Their situation was exactly the same as it had been before he left. He couldn’t dial her number until he hadsomethingto tell her. So, a quick discussion with Nate was long overdue.

No more mediation. No more playing nice. Get it done.

Angela would agree to his terms or she’d get nothing. No more Mr. Nice Guy. While Mooky may not have actual dirt on her, the club or Nate could get it. He knew she wasn’t the sweet little stay-at-home victim she wanted her lawyer to think she was during all this. So, she played hardball? Fine.

“Step up to the plate, bitch,” he muttered to himself.

Tapping his phone, he found the lawyer’s number. When it rang, he put it to his ear. Odin’s Fury officers didn’t go through the answering service. They didn’t talk to the secretary. They had a direct line.

“Nate, no more mediation. I’ve had it. Do what you have to. End it. I expect to be divorced by the time I’m back in Ohio,” he said after the ringing had stopped but before the lawyer could complete his greeting.

The weighted pause on the other end should have made him nervous. Mooky didn’t know how the law worked. He didn’t know judges. He didn’t know if he had to be present to sign things or appear to testify or anything.

But he knew, when he had to, Nate could get the shit done. Right now, this needed doing.

“What’s my timeline?”

Okay, by the time he got back was unrealistic.

“Two days.”

“It’ll be a week.”

Grinding his teeth, Mooky clenched his fist. He’d been far too patient. Rolling into Ohio, signing on the line, and being free of Angela sounded fucking outstanding in his head. Impossible. Two days seemed doable.

Apparently, he was wrong.

“Okay,” he agreed. What else could he do?

He’d waited this long. What difference would another seven days make? One week. He could handle that as long as he knew he’d be divorced at the end.

One week until he fixed everything. One week and he could make amends.

“I’ll get started now.” The line cut out.

Staring at the ceiling of the gas station shelter, Mooky let his arm fall to his side. He’d be home in two days. In seven days, he’d be free. That’d give him four days to fix all the shit he’d broken. Four days to get shit set up proper for his kids and four days to figure out how he could win Blue back.

Totally doable. Right? It didn’t matter. He’d get it done.

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