Tough kids, though. Respect. Can’t even think of a tattoo badass enough to mark them with, and that’s saying something.
The fact I’m thinking of inking them doesn’t escape me, either. Marking them with a distinctive symbol. In my mind, they’re already members of the Brotherhood.
How did that happen? It took me a while to accept the Damage Boyz as a part of our tightly-knit group, to trust them enough to let them in.
I should cool my guns, take a step back. Just because they were abused by the same man who abused me doesn’t mean we’re meant to be one happy family. Doesn’t mean anything at all.
And the man is still free. Jesus F. Christ. That raises my hackles and sends my heart into overdrive. I don’t feel safe while he’s out there. The kids don’t feel safe.
A plan starts to take form in my mind, and it terrifies me so fucking bad I shoot it down instantly.
No. Let the police catch him. That’s what they do.
“I think talking to you did the kids good,” Rafe is saying as we return to our cars. “Talking to a psychologist is one thing, but talking to someone who’s been through the same ordeal is different.”
Yeah. And if talking helps, then I need that help. Though I’m not going back to my therapist, not after seeing Kenneth’s car there.
Or did I? Sorting through real memories and flashbacks is fucking complicated. If I decide to believe that he chased after me… Fuck.
I’ll find another therapist. I need to get better.
I lean back against my pick-up truck, waiting for the girls to reach us. They’re talking to the officer. Rafe opens the car door for Megan and helps her settle the baby in the baby seat, circles her waist with his arm and kisses her.
I look away, heat building in my chest, in my dick. It’s been so damn long since I got off. First Dakota gave birth and couldn’t bear to be touched, and then the nightmares came crashing down on me and sex was off the menu.
Still is.
But what I wouldn’t give to hold my girl naked in my arms. Try again. She seemed to wanna give it a go the other day. It’s been over two months now since Emmanuel was born, and I…
I want it. So fucking bad. If only I don’t flip out on her and scare her, if only I don’t get lost in the past and puke because she touches me…
Yeah, that’s my fear. But as Dakota reaches my side and stands on tiptoe to kiss me, as I open the door for her and look into her bright eyes, I know it’s time to go all in, or lose the war.
And that’s not an option when you love a girl the way I love her.
***
Lee sleeps all the way from Dylan’s apartment to ours, and then barely stirs when I carry him upstairs in my arms and lay him in his crib.
“Did Dylan wear you out, little man?” I pull the blanket over his tiny body, and I gaze down at him, lost in thought. I admit I’m still kinda in awe that Dakota and me created this new life. This perfect little boy with his tiny fists and chubby face, the pursed lips and dark hair.
A baby who tends to fall asleep as he breastfeeds, snuggled in Dakota’s arms, who likes it when I make him fly over my head, who is perfectly happy sleeping belly down on my thigh while I stroke his hair.
Our baby. He’s ours. We’re a family. He’s mine to protect, and I’d do it with my life. It’s a powerful feeling, even more powerful than the protective urge I have with all of our friends. Maybe because he’s so tiny, so innocent. So ready for life’s opportunities, and I want him to have them all, to grow up with love and laughter and safety.
I want him to have everything I didn’t have, and more.
“Is he asleep?” Dakota comes to stand beside me, looking down at the baby. “Awww, he’s knocked out.”
I grin at her, feeling lighter than I have in ages. “Are you tired?”
She shoots me a questioning look. “No more than usual.”
“I wanna take you to bed and undress you.” I slip my hand behind her back, down to her ass. “Kiss you all over.”
Her breathing speeds up, and her blue eyes darken. “Oh God, yes.”
“Told you before, it’s just Zane for you,” I mutter, then swing her up in my arms and kiss her, swallowing her squeal of surprise. “Shh. I’ve got you.”