Page 9 of His Wild Storm
“No,” I bark the word and then soften my tone, “I made sure to protect Wilde. But I don’t know how long I would have been able to keep it up.”
“You did good, mama,” her voice is soft, but her words pack a punch. “Did he have any involvement in caring for him? Like in making sure his needs were met or taking him to appointments or anything of the sort?”
I scoff, unable to hold the sound back. “No, he was never involved. I don’t think he changed even five diapers when Wilde was still in them. He never went with me to the doctor when I was pregnant or to any pediatrician appointments.” I know the smile on my face is bitter as fuck, but I can’t help it. “He didn’t even show up at the hospital when I gave birth.”
Avery sits up a little straighter in her chair, her voice cautious, “Did he sign the paternity paperwork in the hospital?”
“Nope,” I pop the p, “he’s not on the birth certificate.”
Avery leans back and blows out a relieved breath. “That’s perfect. He could petition the court to prove paternity and be put on the birth certificate. We can come up with a plan for how to deal with it, if it were to happen, but from a legal standpoint you aren’t tied to him.”
Some of the weight from my shoulders disappears. Not all of it, not by a long shot, but enough.
Now I just need to figure out if Denver is where I want to set down roots and then make it happen. As safe as I feel here, I don’t want to take up space if someone else needs it more than me. And I think I’m ready to figure out what life really looks like with true freedom.
CHAPTER 4
KNOX
Not heading to work and instead going to the women’s shelter, Safe Home, this morning feels kind of strange. But it also feels good because I know I’m going to help some kids express themselves through art. It feels like an opportunity to pay it forward.
Because without art, without a teacher back in the day taking notice of my interest and talent, I have no idea where I would be right now. Art kept me out of trouble, even though I found plenty of it with friends when I was younger. But that’s part of growing up; at least that’s what I tell myself.
Picking Avery up on the way into the shelter wasn’t an issue. Hopefully, it means Bridger, her man and the father of the child she’s cooking, won’t call her a million times to check in on her. It’s not like I don’t understand why he’s anxious about being away from her and her leaving the house. I’m quite sure if my woman were as pregnant as she is then I’d be the same way.
That doesn’t mean I’m not going to take every opportunity given to me to annoy Bridger and get under his skin. Frankly, it’s too much damn fun and watching him get bent out of shape is amusing to me. He knows it’s all in good fun, anyway.
Everyone who works at Vibrant Ink, the same people whomake up the little family we’ve been able to cobble together, is thrilled that Bridger has found happiness. The man used to be insular and quiet. I think most people would call him grumpy or broody, but I never saw him that way.
What I saw was a guy who was afraid to let people get close. It’s not like I didn’t understand it, especially when he would share little crumbs about how he grew up. As much as I wanted to relate to him, to understand his hesitation, it wasn’t easy.
I was lucky to grow up in a household with two parents, who are still married today, and an easy childhood. The biggest problem I came up against was when I wanted to do art instead of playing sports. Dad wasn’t thrilled about it for a while, but my mom was there to run interference for me.
Now, Dad even has a tattoo, one I designed and inked on his skin. I think it was his way of showing me he does accept the path I took and is proud of me for it. It took us a little while to get there, but sometimes that is what is needed in life. Not everything should come easy, right?
Even though I haven’t been able to get Mom in my tattoo chair, I know she’s proud of me. She never expected anything from me beyond being myself. It was my mom who showed me how to keep a smile on my face and to find a reason to laugh and have fun, even when things were hard.
Because that is part of life. Even with my parents together and in love, it’s not like life didn’t take its own shots. Of course it did; everyone gets that treatment at some point.
There were fights. There were a few years there when I thought for sure my sisters and I would get the ‘we’re getting a divorce’ couch sit down any moment. There were times when allI wanted was to get out of the house and to start my own life because family life is hard.
We made it through.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” Avery’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I look over at her and realize we’ve been sitting outside Safe Home for far too long without getting out.
I chuckle under my breath, not surprised that she’s called me out on my shit or read me so well. Avery coming into our lives hasn’t just been good for Bridger, it’s been good for all of us.
Who knows, maybe one day I’ll find the woman meant to be mine.
Since it’s been a few years since Wyatt and Tenley found each other, I didn’t think their love was the start of some domino effect intent on overtaking the shop or anything like that. Well, maybe I was a little bit hopeful about it.
Shouldn’t things have moved fast, more like what happened when Beckett Banks found his wife Amelia over at Banks Ink.? It seemed like every time we talked to someone over there, there was another love match or baby on the way.
“What if the kids are afraid of me?”
The question slips past my lips, the one thing I’ve been worried about since I agreed to teach an art class at Safe Home a few weeks ago. I jumped at the chance then because it sounded like a lot of fun, but since then fears have started to creep in. I know I have a damn good sense of humor—and a huge side of humility, clearly—but a kid doesn’t know that. A kid with trauma?
Shit. I don’t want to make anything worse.
