Bren had filled me in on what had gone down between my girl and Hulk. Couldn’t say I didn’t understand where he was coming from, but I still wanted to rip the guy’s head off and shove it up his ass. My Little Warrior was hurting—no doubt about that.
But she never lost her shit. She talked about telling Hulk thank you for a couple days, but she never did. I think she knew he didn’t want her gratitude.
After a while, even though I hated that my child was in pain, a part of me was glad that Trix was forced to stand on her own two feet for a bit. It made her stronger. As the days went by, I listened to her bitch about the heat and complain about how tight her clothes were getting, but she never fell back into the pit she’d been in before. She still dealt with nightmares, especially after Micky’s small funeral—but she snapped out of them faster and faster with each one.
Trix was getting her shit together, visiting a shrink and talking to her mother and nan. She fucking worked for it, and slowly, we all began to see a difference in her. The girl I’d raised gradually made herself known again.
She smiled. A lot. She went to yoga with Amy and Brenna. She made her brother paint her toenails. She bought a small, plastic pool and made Brenna sit in it with her, sipping on what she called virgin margaritas. They were fucking smoothies—she put fruit and ice in a blender. Smoothies.
One day about two months after she’d come to live with us, my girl cornered me as soon as I’d taken my boots off after a long day at the garage.
“Hey, Pop?” she said quietly, making the hair on my neck stand up. I wasn’t used to a quiet Trix, and it made me itchy.
“Yeah?” I asked gruffly. I really fucking hoped whatever she had to say wasn’t bad news. Couldn’t take any more of that for the next few years.
“I’m sorry I asked you to help me with Cam. I shouldn’t have done that.” She rested her hands calmly on her belly, but I saw her thumbs slide between her palms and the fabric of her shirt.
“Water under the bridge,” I mumbled back, raising my eyes to meet hers.
“No, you deserve an apology.” She swallowed hard, and in that second I wanted to tell her to stop talking, but I knew that whatever she was trying to say was important to her—even if it hurt. “You stepped in when I needed you to, even after you’d said you wouldn’t. I know that wasn’t easy for you.”
“You can always count on me, baby—”
“I know, Pop,” she cut me off with a small smile. “I know I can. And I know this seems kind of silly, since I’m living in your house.” She laughed a little, and I felt my lips twitch. “But I’m going to stand on my own two feet. I want you to know that I’ll never ask you to do something like that again.” She started to cry and I was on my feet in an instant.
“None of that, Little Warrior,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her.
It was weird as fuck, hugging my kid when she had that huge ass belly.
“I just—I want to be able to take care of shit on my own, you know?” she said against my t-shirt. “I don’t want to rely on you or anyone else to make the hard decisions for me.”
“Then don’t,” I said simply, ignoring the swear word that grated on my nerves. I fucking hated it when she cursed. She was my baby girl. Ugly words shouldn’t be coming outta her mouth.
“I love you,” she said on a sigh, resting her weight against me.
“Love you, too, Little Warrior.”
And that was that. She started doing exactly what she’d said. Making her own doctor’s appointments and making lists of things she needed for the babies. She even started looking for jobs, though I wasn’t sure how she thought she’d be able to work any time soon.
She still drove me insane leaving her shit all over the house, but…
She grew.
She laughed.
And finally, she glowed.
I was so fucking proud of her.
Through all of it, the radio silence between her and Cam never faltered. They kept their distance all the way through summer and into the fall.
Chapter 25
Cameron
“We got him,” Poet yelled, limping his way into the clubhouse. “Fuckin’ got him.”
I glanced at Dragon, who was watching Poet carefully, then followed his lead when he got to his feet. “Church,” he barked, striding through the room.
The small meeting room was silent until everyone had taken their seats.
“Got a call from my contact in the office at U of O—” Poet began.
“How the fuck did you get a contact there?” Will asked incredulously.