Page 15 of Outlaws' Single Mom
“He was mostly asking about Georgia. Kept pushing to make me say things that would make her look bad.” I wrinkle my nose, remembering. “A jerk, basically. Oh! He did ask about you guys and why you were with me at the hospital.”
“What did you say?” Jackal asks. There’s tension in the question.
It suddenly occurs to me that if I was in his shoes, I probably wouldn’t be thrilled with the police nosing around in my business. The Outlaw Sons have been nothing but good to me, but I’m not dumb. It hasn’t made me forget their reputation. I doubt they are on great terms with the local police.
“Nothing. I told him I wouldn’t answer. I’m sorry if that makes him think I was hiding something. I probably should’ve just said that you weren’t involved at all and you were just being nice, but I was so freaking angry at how he talked about my sister, and then he implied that if I didn’t cooperate, I might be held accountable for her accident. I had to get him out of my place before I gave him a reason to arrest me.”
“What the fuck? Why would you be responsible?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it right now.” I lean in, and he pulls me the rest of the way until my cheek is resting against his chest. A broad hand strokes slowly up and down my back. Our swaying doesn’t even really fit with the music, but neither of us seem to mind.
“You look real nice tonight,” Jackal says quietly. “Thebun was cute, but this is better.” His fingers tangle in the ends of my hair, tugging gently.
“Really? Are you sure I’m not overdressed?” I nod my head in the direction of a girl who’s wearing shorts so short I can see the bottom of her butt cheeks pop out when she moves. “It’s November. She must be freezing.”
“She’s countin’ on someone else keeping her warm.” He chuckles. “Not that I would complain about seeing more skin, but I think you’re just fine. Those jeans are doing God’s work.”
I’m glad my face is at least partly hidden, because I don’t want him to see my flustered smile, or the heat I know is rising on my cheeks. His hands skirt lower, resting just at my hips with his fingers spread so I can feel them just touching my ass. We stay like that until the end of the song, before heading back to the bar. Stiff and Lash watch as we weave through the crowd. Stiff stands up and offers his stool, sliding in right behind me close enough to act as a human backrest. I keep waiting for them to show those subtle signs of staking a claim that happens when things get a little flirty, but either I’m reading too much into biker body language, or they genuinely don’t mind.
Either way, I’ve got too many real things to worry about in my life right now to worry about dating. If they weren’t already aware of my situation, there’s no way I’d be here, but this is nice. I don’t have to put on a fake smile. I sip my fake beer and lean back into Stiff as Lash breaks into a story about how the guy who lives next to him keeps waking everyone up with his screaming because he’s trying to start cold water swimming by taking ice cold showers.
“But is it working?” I ask, laughing.
He shrugs. “Only if his strategy is to piss us off until we tie him up and drop him off the pier ourselves.”
9
DAKOTA
After a lazy Sunday with Logan,I’m ready for my big evening plans with a book, a fuzzy blanket and as many candles as I can light without setting off the fire alarms. I still haven’t told my father or Logan about Georgia. Both for about the same reason. I don’t want to say anything until I know what’s happening. I did call into work to let them know I’m taking a few days off to start figuring out what I need to do. My boss wasn’t happy, but she can grumble all she wants. I’m one of her most reliable aides.
I lean against Logan’s bedroom doorframe, watching his lower half wiggle as he messes with something under his bed. “Hey Lo? It’s bedtime, kiddo. Time to brush your teeth.”
He was so focused on what he was doing that he jumps and his head bonks against the underside of the bed frame. “Ow!” he lets out, sounding more surprised than hurt.
“You okay under there? Did you lose something?”
He stills. “I a’ready brushed.”
“Uh, I really doubt that, babykins. Should I go check to see if your toothbrush is wet?”
“No! I’m not ready!”
I sigh. “Honey, it's bedtime. If you don't get enough sleep, you're going to be really cranky at pre-school tomorrow and no one's going to want to play with you.”
“ ‘K.”
If it’s possible for one syllable to sound miserable, he manages. I sit on the bed next to his legs. Maybe avoiding the elephant in the room was the wrong strategy. It’s too bad parenting doesn’t come with nearly enough instructions to cover all possible scenarios. “Is everything okay? You know you can tell me anything, right? If something made you feel bad or scared, maybe I can help. Why don't you come out from under the bed so we can talk?”
His legs vanish under the bed.
I wish I wasn't alone in this. Losing Georgia makes me sad for myself, for losing my sister, but I’m also mourning the loss of all the futures I’ve dreamed about where she pulled free and we could do this together. I’m probably doing everything wrong, but Logan needs someone, and I’m it. Him and me against the world.
“This would be a lot easier if I could see you while I walked to you, Lo. It's okay. I love you. If something is hard, we'll figure it out.”
A long pause. I'm starting to think about grabbing his legs and sliding him out when I hear him shuffling around under the bed and his head emerges. He's looking everywhere but at me. Does he think he's in trouble for something? Why?
“I'm not going to be mad at you. Is that what you're afraid of?”
