Page 48 of Mile High With the Bikers
Such a simple question, with such a messy, complicated answer. “Why?” I try not to sound too defensive.
“I don't know. I don’t feel like I had a horrible childhood. My mother signed me up for all the right things. I went to a very highly rated school with excellent teachers. My father paid child support on time and then made sure that my education and career were taken care of, but… I don’t think either of them really wanted me. I’ve never even really thought seriously about if I want kids or not. All I know is that I don’t want to bring a kid into the same situation I had.”
“You'd be a great fucking mom.” It just slips out of me, not even questioning it. But I believe it, too.
“Would I? I got to hold Kaylee’s new baby, and she was so small! Alessa was excited to hold her, and Kaylee seemed tired but like this little pink blob was the love of her life. Just seeing them withtheir kids and the way they talk about their families, it made me wonder if anyone ever smelled the top of my head and smiled.”
“That’s a really fucking specific thing to wonder about.”
Rory laughs. “It is, isn’t it? But do you know what I mean? Was my relationship with my mother always broken? Or was I just a difficult baby?”
“Uh, I’m not sure I’m the one to judge, but I think your mom’s just a shitty mom.”
She snorts skeptically.
“She fucking sold you out to your father. Maybe she’s an okay human being, but that doesn’t mean she did right by you.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She kicks a big chunk of gravel that's gotten onto the courtyard. It rolls into the grass.
“Fuck that shit. You have a bitch for a mom and a fucking cartoon super villain for a father, and somehow you're still fucking amazing. So none of this bullshit about what kind of mom you'll be. If you decide you want kids, you'll be fucking great because you’ll go full nerd attack on it, and newsflash, giving a shit about your kids is part of raising them, not just picking a good school.” I slide my hand around her waist and tug her into me. She grunts when we bump together, but she doesn't pull away.
“You didn't answer my question.” She snakes her arm around my waist, too.
“Doesn't matter.”
“Of course it does.” She sounds hurt. Fuck, of course she is, but my story ain't easy listening. Hard enough to think about it on my own, never mind telling someone else.
“Leave it.”
She stops, forcing me to turn to her if I don't let go. She wets her lips, picking her words carefully. “Don’t run away screaming, but I think we’re good together.”
“You and me?” I do too. That's why I don't wanna make her the one that runs away.
“You and me. Shrapnel and me. Bull and me. All three of you together.”
I try to laugh it off. “The old ladies got to you? Thinking we can give you what they've got?”
“You think it’s dumb?” Her voice is light, but there’s a current of hurt there that makes me feel guilty. “Maybe you’re right and I’m just thinking too hard about things that don’t matter. I’ll probably be gone in a week, right? So what’s the point in asking each other questions?” She starts to walk away.
Fuck. I hold her in place. “No, that’s not what I fucking mean. I like what we’ve got going on. It feels good, and not just the sex. But that doesn't give you the right to my?—”
“Right?” She huffs, sounding annoyed. “Nobody has the right to anyone else’s story, but it's not about right. It's about trust. How much do you trust me?”
I'm an idiot sometimes, but even I see the danger signs if I choose the wrong answer. If I want this to go any further, I'm going to have to trust that she'll still be here when I'm donetelling her. And if I don't, she’s got no fucking reason to stick around. “You might hate me afterwards.”
“Because of your parents? I find that hard to believe.”
“Because of what I did to my parents.”
She goes still, waiting.
Fuck, I said too much already. Whatever she’s thinking is gonna be just as bad as the truth, if not worse. So now what? I tell her just so she won't draw her own conclusions? That's not trust, that's just fear of being caught out. “Why do you need to know?
“Being here, being around you guys, it’s the first time I’ve ever really considered if I want anything more in my life. I was happy with my work, or maybe not happy, but content. Now I’m wondering if I’m just screwed up, and since you’re one of the people that are making me feel this way, I… You’re right. It’s dumb.”
I look up with a sigh. “It’s not. I’m not good at this.”
Suddenly, her little hand is clasped around my wrist. I can tear myself away anytime I want, but I don’t.
